MRS CARTER'S APOLOGY

Cryin' real tears for mah fans!

I have never postponed a show in my life, but the shock of somebody getting bigger headlines and more column inches than me during my world-wide tour just made me feel ill. Thanks to Angelina Jolie's selfishness and headline-hogging attention-seeking news, millions of my fans in Antwerp couldn't get to see me perform. My life is so hard sometimes but I want to share some of the pain with you. I was bravely trying to put on a pair of strappy sandals all by myself when my PR team broke the terrible news about Angelina. Hearing that she had her own op-ed in the New York Times just devastated me!  What? I had so many questions. How could this be? Why have I never been offered this opportunity? How could I possibly go out and perform in front of my adoring fans with this eating away at my ego? No offence to Ms Jolie, but she ruined my day and all the many fans who were hoping to see me that night. I whipped my rumour-production team into action and while they wrapped me in more cotton-wool, (because yep, I might be pretending to be pregnant again!) I spent the night thanking the Lord for keepin' me humble and praying that Angelina never knows  real pain - the pain of disappointing her fans.

MEOW! 

THANK YOU, I'M BACK!

SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGE!

Hello! Yes, I know what you're thinking "Didn't that drunk bitch quit blogging five minutes ago?" YES! But, I changed my mind. I have unpacked my gin-soaked handkerchief, dusted my velvet-lined basket and put my catnip stash within easy reach in a fire-proof safe. I am good to go, but things will be different. 

Like many bloggers, I comment on a lot of other blogs. I haven't been blogging as long as a lot of people, but I realise that's how you build up some sort of blogging presence and attract a readership. At last count, I was commenting on around 30 other blogs, and when you think that some people are quite prolific, this was taking up quite a bit of my time. This was due to the fact that I  don't like to just leave a "thanks for sharing" comment, or be insincere, or not actually read the post. But I no longer want to spend my time doing this. That's really why I decided to stop blogging, the ball & chain of constant commenting was getting heavier. However, I do enjoy writing the blog, and thanks to all the emails I received, I know that a few of you like reading it. So, I have decided to continue.

What I will not be doing is commenting on all the other blogs I read in the way I used to. I will still be reading them and may occasionally comment, but no longer religiously. I won't be expecting anybody to leave a comment on mine either. I really mean that. Honestly, life's too short. If you read it and enjoy it, and then move on - that's great. If you really want to leave a comment, do so. I could always tell when someone left a comment because they felt obligated to, and I'm sure a lot of you can as well. I suspect that a lot of bloggers would like to free themselves from this built-in somewhat insidious aspect of blogging. On the other hand, there are plenty of bloggers who simply never comment on other blogs and they aren't struck by lightning!  I know that comments are a good way to form a bond with other people and these friendships are an easy way to connect with other people. So, if that makes you happy, keep doing it. The main thing is that whether you choose to comment or not, you PLEASE YOURSELF without feeling any sense of recrimination or guilt. It's only a blog - not a cure for cancer. It wasn't until I started blogging that I realised how much time it took up.  However most people already have a never-ending list of commitments on the go, why add to it needlessly? So, I'm back to blogging, but I'm jumping off the crazy merry-go-round of full-time commenting. I hope for the blog's sake that this is the most boring post I ever write, but I wanted to explain my reasons to those who read it. Back soon!

PAWS UP!

MEOW!

THANK YOU AND GOODBYE!

HARD AT WORK

Hello!

I have decided to call time on my blog, but before I go, I'd like to say a huge Thank You to everyone who's ever taken the time to read it and especially to all those who commented. Thank you so much, it's been fun!

Paws Up!

MEOW! x

REESE WITHERSPOON

POOR ME!

So, Hollywood Princess Reese Witherspoon and her husband were arrested - she for disorderly conduct and he for suspected DUI.  She has now shifted her focus to damage control and issued a statement

" Out of respect for the ongoing legal situation, I cannot comment on everything that is being reported right now. But I do want to say, I clearly had one drink too many and I am deeply embarrassed about the things I said. It was definitely a scary situation and I was frightened for my husband, but this is no excuse. I was disrespectful to the officer who was just doing his job. I have nothing but respect for the police and I'm very sorry for my behavior."

Reading between those drunk and disorderly lines I have ascertained what she really meant to say! Let me translate.

THE REAL ME!

" Out of  the greatest respect and self-regard for my career, I refuse to say much about this incident in the hope that it will simply fade away and I can resume wearing my Princess crown. I may have slipped and fallen headfirst into a cocktail pitcher that evening so it's not my fault at all that I was drunk. ( But I reserve the right to use the "somebody else spilled alcohol down my throat" defence). When I asked that police officer if he knew who I was, I just wanted him to know that he could have my autograph, because I thought he might be too embarrassed to ask for it. My mistake, he is clearly not a movie fan. Or worse, a Reese Witherspoon fan! On reflection, I should never have had to ask this question in the first place and I deeply resent that he didn't have a clue who the Hell I was. I mean, I was shocked and horrified when the officer revealed that he couldn't name even ONE of my movies. How are we supposed to place our trust in people who don't even recognise us? Am I supposed to carry my Oscar around in the car? Was he confused because my hair is currently dyed brown? NO EXCUSE! It was a really scary situation to be in, and I was terrified for my career. I mean, I'm supposed to be America's Sweetheart! Plus, I knew they wouldn't have make-up artists and lighting experts at the jailhouse, so I feared that my elfin beauty would not be shown to full effect. My chin alone requires its own entourage and Special Effects team. It is so disappointing to discover that police officers do not undergo any form of special training in how to deal with Big Famous Movie Stars and I will be complaining to the Governor as soon as these handcuff scars have faded. However, to show how sorry I am to the officer I will be sending him a copy of every movie and TV show I have ever made in the hope that if we  meet again, I will not have to ask him if he knows who I am. It's the least I can do. I will also send him a signed photo of my Star on the Walk of Fame. ( But if it's a dark night, rest assured that I will mow his unappreciative ass down). I will totally understand if the Police Department fires him, because if he doesn't recognise me, what hope is there for him capturing real criminals who have actually done something wrong?

Elle Woods

MEOW!

BEYONCÉ - ME, MAHSELF, MY

UNBEWEAVEABLE ME!

Just as I'm about to enter the luxurious penthouse suite where Beyoncé is staying, I think I hear the sound of a fleet of helicopters landing on the hotel roof. Then I remind myself that it's probably just Queen Bey revving up her flotilla of wind machines to get that weave-wig combo of hers a-dancin' and a-prancin' around her shoulders like a hairy halo. I know that she loves to look like she's standing in the middle of a tornado at all times. A tornado of adoration and praise. I lick my paws, slick back my gin-soaked, furry ears and hope I can live up to her expectations. One of her subjects leads me over to her as she sits curled up in her favourite "so vulnerable" pose on the over-sized sofa. She motions for me to sit on a footstool opposite her. Underneath her two weaves, a full wig, four layers of artfully applied industrial strength make-up and a fake smile, I suspect that she is someone you wouldn't look twice at even if she was saving your life.

SULKY: It's a pleasure to meet you Beyoncé. Now, will you actually be speaking live to me or will you be lip-synching to pre-recorded answers?

BEYONCE: (massive hair flip) Ah'll be tawkin' to yuh fur reeal, Sulkeh! Straight from mah big ol' harrrt! Ah feeyul so fagile 'bout evrathin' because....to quote mahself,  mah soul has bin tarnished.

SULKY: Jesus! Can we get an interpreter? Look Beyoncé, I love a Southern accent, but listening to yours is like having my ears sandblasted. Do you gargle with gravel? I know you've spent most of your life singing, but didn't anybody try to address your poor enunciation?

BEYONCÉ: Mah nunshi-what? Mah soul is still tarnished! Write thet down!

SULKY: You make Forest Gump sound like a Rhodes Scholar! 

BEYONCÉ: Ah feeyul.....hurrt that you're nat seein' mah true perfection! Ahm so fragile! Ahm such a private person, ah struggle with revealin' mahself to people. It's so harrrd.

SHY & PRIVATE

SULKY:  Really? I've just been watching your documentary Life Is But A Dream. Not many normal people who wish to maintain their privacy actually produce a documentary ABOUT THEMSELVES Beyoncé, so why did you?  Were you worried that people weren't seeing the mighty intellect that was lurking under all that wig glue?

BEYONCÉ: Ah feeyul....ah jest wanted the world to see that after mah break-up with mah dad that ah was still fabulous and current. People wondered why I had to let him go as mah manager. Ah needed to smell the cash roses for mahself and push mahself without him.

YOU'RE SACKED DADDY!

SULKY: So, are you saying that the split had nothing to do with him cheating on your mom? Or having a child with another woman? Or allegedly dipping his sticky fingers into the Beyoncé Billion Dollar Piggy Bank when nobody was looking?

BEYONCÉ: Nuthin' at all! We both needed boundaries. It wuz harr..rrd. 

SULKY: I love how you complain about people being brainwashed about celebrities and then you come out with the most obvious attempt at brainwashing I've seen in years. I especially liked all those hilarious video diary entries  of yourself  in your fully made up "no make-up" face telling us in that dramatic, throaty little whisper all about how vulnerable and scared you feel.  There must be saner people locked up!

BEYONCÉ: Ah was jest tryin' to show mah thoughts and emoticons! Ah needed to discover who ah really am. People are brainwashed into believin' lies about me and ah wanted to show them mah truth. Ah wanted everybody to git to see how sensitive and tortured ah am emotionally. Ah need people to see thet ahm jest like them -  except ahm more talented and betteh than them. But still humble - so very humble.

SULKY: Do you and Jay-Z ever look at each other,  and ask "How the hell did two boring, mumbling, dullards like us ever get to be this rich and famous?" Have you thought about officially changing your names to Jay-Zzzzz & Beyawncé, or are you just thankful that people keep buying into it? 

ZZZzzzzzz....

BEYONCÉ:  Jay has taught me so much. He showed me how to be an artist, how to manipulate the media,  and how to make more money. He says thet nobody can hair-flip and shake-ass like me and I believe him. I hope and pray that our business merger will continue for many years.  

SULKY: You were criticised for miming at Obama's inauguration ceremony.  How did that make you feeyul? 

BEYONCÉ: Ah felt like..um... It wuz harrrd! I jest didn't have enough time to practice. I was tryin' to learn the word inag....inog... inig...inugurashun  that week. That is a BIG word! Ah struggled bravely with it and so ah didn't have time to practice mah singin' as well. Anyway, true professionals always mime to a backin' track!

SULKY:  We're not quite sure how, but you now have a daughter. Were you upset by all the fake pregnancy rumours?

BEYONCÉ: It wuz CRAZY - of course ah was preygnant! Ah told everybody a little story about mah previous imaginary miscarriage as well to make them feel extra sorry for doubting me! Ah even went the extra mile and showed a grainy silhouette of some preygnant woman to prove that I was really, really preygnant. What more could I do to prove it?

HEAVY LUNCH

SULKY: How about a film of you actually giving birth called Life Is But A Scream? I'm afraid showing yourself standing with a slightly bloated belly after a heavy lunch isn't going to cut it for all those doubting, suspicious bitches. (like ME!)

BEYONCÉ: But ah gained nearly 60lbs with that preygnancy, I sacrificed mah perfect figure for that baybeh!

SULKY: Well, next time wear a lighter prosthetic!


SULKY: I'm not surprised you agreed to a televised interview with Oprah because she is one of the best Ass-Kissers in the business. She called you the "pre-eminent mistress of the universe" and said that when you start yodelling perform "art meets God in a sacred zone". What the Hell is she on? Did you actually see any of the drugs she takes because I need to get myself some. I have so much to learn  from her.

BEYONCÉ: Ah love Oprah! She always smothers me with compliments and praise and talks about me like ahm a walkin,' singin,' dancin' miracle! 

SULKY: Well, I need to go and have my ears syringed and self-medicate with a few cocktails now but before I lock lips with a gin bottle leave, tell me, what's the best thing about being you?



BEYONCÉ: Ahm jest blessed, I guess. But ah try to stay humble and modest ...it's harr..rrdd! Ahm jest the same as any other woman, except I guess ahm more beautiful... and rich... and famous... and talented...it's jest so saaad that other women can't be me. Ah feel their pain! I'm gonna go film mah pain now for mah video diary....


MEOW!

THE OSCARS!

YAWW..WWW....NN

So, at first I thought I was watching one of those crazy American advertisements for a wonder drug to help those afflicted with Dyslexia and a bad case of Social Anxiety. But no! Apparently this really was the 85th Annual Oscar Ceremony. For a bunch of people who get paid millions of dollars to act for a living, their awkward, stilted, stuttering performances were breathtaking in their ineptitude. These people have made a career out of learning screeds of dialogue but barely one of them could tear their frozen faces and glazed eyes away from their new best friend -  the auto-cue  Most of them looked like they were staring down the barrel of a shotgun, and if I'd had my way, most of them would have been. I hated Seth MacFarlane's smuggy, self-satisfied hosting of the event. But HE loved himself non-stop so that's all that matters.

MINE, ALL MINE!

Well, we can all breathe a sigh of relief that that needy, fake, attention-seeking missile Anne Hathaway, finally got her grasping claws on an Oscar statuette. Did you see the genuine smiles on the other nominees? They were on the edge of their seats because Lord knows what she would have done if she hadn't won. Nobody else wanted to be responsible for this bitch blowing the place up or spraying the audience with acid. She HAD to win. She certainly expected it. So, as far as the other nominees were concerned, losing out on an Oscar  was a small price to pay for remaining alive and unmaimed.  Just as she hoped and planned, there was a lot of discussion about whether those protuberences on her chest were dress darts or nipples. Really? Not that difficult when you recall that this is the demure little flower who showed up to a premiere and flashed her labia at a waiting camera. Then jumped up on her high horse (knickerless, of course) and criticised us all for looking! Do you really think she'd hesitate to showcase her nipples? I'm just surprised the bib of her ugly dress didn't dramatically fall down while she was squeaking out her "It's MINE, Bitches!" speech. (Some poor sucker in wardrobe will get fired for that non-malfunction) "It came true" she gasped, and went on to thank the world for giving her what  (in her opinion) was rightfully hers anyway.

SHAVE ME FROM MYSELF

 I  almost don't mind Ben Affleck. Big of me, I know. Everyone seems to think that it's very touching and romantic the way he keeps thanking his beautiful/wonderful/ gorgeous/amazing/incredible wife every time he wins an award. He also thanked her this time around for "working on their marriage"!   No doubt while he was off "working" on some twenty year old starlet (s). So, I suppose what he really meant to say was. " Yes, she caught me cheating again, but we're still together."  That beard has to go. It has now been around longer than George Clooney's, but at least she has a name.

ANOTHER BEARDED WONDER

DanYell Day Lewis. Jesus Christ, he's only made around two movies yet he's won three bloody Oscars now. How?! (Yes, I know he's made more than 2, but really, for a so-called method actor he always sounds and acts the same to me). I hate it when he raises his voice. He totally ruined Last of The Mohicans for me when he shouted every line as if he was at a cattle auction. I seriously just don't understand how everyone thinks he's some kind of genius. When he won this Oscar he even shook his own head and said wonderingly  " I just don't understand how all of this happened". Yes, you and me both, DanYell. Poor old Sally Field got nothing, except the thrill of putting on weight to play the part of his annoying wife. Usually in Hollywood, when a woman makes the ULTIMATE sacrifice and puts on weight to play a role, this by itself is automatically deemed Oscar-worthy!  Here's hoping they at least let her keep her wonderfully ugly gowns and the ear-plugs she must surely have needed to drown out both her own and Daniel's brain-pulverizing accents.

SALLY FIELD in LINCOLN

I have now come to terms with the fact that I hate Bradley Cooper with a vehemence I usually reserve for child-molesters. He has all the genuine warmth and charm of a psychopath. Except psychopaths are usually pretty good actors.

PSYCHO EYES

Then we had the Bond Movies tribute. Another yawnfest. I love Adele but hated that bloody terrible Skyfall song about the sky "crumbling". I have to bite down hard on a wooden spoon every time I hear it. I don't know how the Hell this was deemed worthy of an Oscar, I wouldn't have awarded it a chocolate button. Then again, look what it was up against - a truly terrible ditty from TED and a reach-for-the-Xanax dirge from Les Miserables. OK, you can keep your Oscar, Adele.

Other lowlights  highlights:

* Jennifer Lawrence wearing a ridiculous sofa on her ass, masquerading as a dress. It must have felt like walking in quicksand.

* Renee Zellweger and Catherine Zeta Jones! If Renee has anything else done to her face she won't be able to open her squinty little eyes at all and will have to be legally classified as blind. And what on earth has happened to CZJ? She appears to be morphing into Victoria Beckham's slightly chubbier big sister. I also can't forgive her for miming. Although that may have been an act of mercy.

JUST WEIRD

*  The mumbling, bumbling, stumbling, shark-eyed mess that is Kristen Stewart. This charm-free little skank makes me want to claw my own eyes out so that I never have to look at her again. I hope her accountant steals most of her earnings and she ends up living in a dumpster having developed a fatal addiction to glue-sniffing. Other than that, I wish her the best!

* Nicole Kidman desperately having to remind the comatose audience to clap every 10 seconds. The ONE thing that audience is there for, and they need prompting?

* Russell Crowe stomping and singing  shouting shamelessly across the stage. This was the funniest part of it all for me. THANK YOU! to whoever give the go-ahead for this fabulous piece of miscasting.

NO SHAME

* Charlize Theron (with her brutal haircut) forgetting that the man is supposed to lead and dragging that dullard Channing Tatum across the floor like a rag-doll. Then faking acting all coy and embarrassed when Dustin Hoffman huddled into her armpit and complimented her dancing skills. Ugh.

* Michelle Obama presenting an award. Of course she was showing off those bloody arms again.  Does she have any other features? I've worked out that even if I used both of my legs, that bitch would STILL beat me in an arm-wrestling competition. Somebody throw her a cardigan. Weld it on, if you have to.

WRESTLING CHAMPION

I'm sure I've missed out loads of great moments, (yeah, right!) so feel free to remind me! Now, I'm off to watch Mr Crowe again, because there's nothing like a good laugh to set you up for the day!


MEOW!

DRESSING TO THRILL..(or not!)

DEMURE IN DENIM

One of my favourite commenters, Kathy Peck, ( whom a lot of you know) mentioned on Dani BP's brilliant blog that she didn't own any tweed clothing because "it reminds my husband of his mother (not in a good way, and btw it's a long list of what I don't wear because of her)". Meow, meow, Kathy - I hear you! I desperately wanted to know what other sartorial forbidden fruit she was missing from her wardrobe due to the lovely David's maternal sensitivities and begged her to tell me. She suggested I take a guess - and so I have done just that! Here's hoping that David (and his mother) forgive me !

THE DRESS

I'm guessing that when it comes to evening wear David is on his knees begging you not to go all Barbara Bushy on him!  He won't like you trussed up in very heavy, stiff, formal attire and reeking of Eau de Fusty. He definitely won't want to feel that he's on a hot date with his own mother. Not when you could be sashaying around in stripper heels and your slinky rubber Cat Woman suit, flicking your little whip over his lusty loins! (Don't even think about telling me you have no such suit!)

THE HAIR

Here we have the Duchess of Kent working a swept back hairdo. This is the kind of hair that looks as if it was carved from granite. Maybe this is what inspired David to take up sculpture? This is the one thing that could have withstood Super Storm Sandy's vicious assault on the east coast, so I think this is the kind of hairstyle that David's mother might have. But David doesn't want this for you Kathy! He wants to be able to run his long, sensuous artist's fingers through your luscious locks with abandonment - not feel as though he's mangled them in a cement mixer. David will have to insure his hands for squillions if you ever opt for this barnet. Think of the premiums!

THE PEARLS

I'm thinking David's mother is the kind who wears her pearls and a tiara to bed, just so that she can clutch them dramatically even in her sleep.  And to let the servants know that she is still in charge, even while she slumbers. So David can probably do without this reminder of  his Mother when he's hovering over you romantically, hoping that tonight he's going to get laid lucky! Stuff the heavy duty necklaces under your mattress, and try to spare David's feelings - it's like holding a crucifix up to a Vampire.

 BIG, BOLD & GOLD (UGH!)

I'm guessing David will throw a fit if you even think about adorning your earlobes with this type of knuckleduster earring! He prefers your ears bare- naked, for frenzied lobe-licking sessions in the back row at the cinema. Because of his Mother's penchant for them, big, crazy, hideous earrings scare the Hell out of David, so just don't go there! If you simply can't help yourself, I think Chanel sell Vicuna wool Ear-Lobe covers for a mere $1,000 each, so get yourself a flesh-coloured pair and cover up those big dazzling diamond clusters when he's around. It's called "showing compassion for your man" Kathy.

KISS, KISS

I'll bet David's Mother LOVES a  day-glo orange lipstick! In her head, it's still the 1970's so she'll still be pulling on a  muumuu and sweeping some orange wax across her lips to enjoy a few cocktails and canapés on a Friday evening. This is her idea of relaxing. If you try swanning around indulging in any of this nonsense yourself, David will be horrified and need electric shock therapy. Again.

SHAPEWEAR

Hearing his mother's tortured squeals as she valiantly fought her way into her girdle, scarred the Boy David for life. He won't want to see or hear you suffer the same fate. A girdle is David's Goliath. Even seeing an innocent pair of Spanx breaks him out in a cold sweat, so just put those shoulders back, suck in that tummy and break out the gold and diamante thongs. For the love of God, just give him what he wants, he'll thank me you!

 TWEEDY TOGS

David probably has treasured memories  of his dear Mama going on a mission in her finest Battle-Axe Tweed suits. When Mother dressed like this it only meant one thing -   some man was going to be on the wrong end of a Good Thrashing! Now, when David sees any woman dressed like this, it evokes unpleasant memories of being cuffed around the ears and a censorious voice telling him to stop snivelling. (of course this is also something he may have grown to like, in which case, carry on!).

 REAL FUR

Now Kathy, when David says that he loves you to look a little Foxy - this isn't what he means. David's mother probably wore so many fur stoles he probably thought he actually was a fox cub until he was 5. Yes, he will love you coiling yourself around his neck from time to time, but you must make every effort to show that you're still breathing. If he ever strokes your hair and compliments you on your beautiful brush, it's too late. He'll be in a catatonic trance thinking about the times he "accidentally" locked himself in his mother's wardrobe with all her furry coats and stoles. I'm guessing that even now, he's a bit of a sly stroker. Lucky you!

Ha! Of course I'm only kidding - apologies to David! I'd be surprised if I got even one thing right. So Kathy - spill the beans! I need to know, don't keep me in cruel suspense. In fact I'm sure everyone wears something that their other half absolutely despises and would love to chuck on to a bonfire. Although I know most of you ladies would rather pierce your jugular with  nail scissors than wear anything ugly or unbecoming, there must be something that makes your other half roll their eyes to the back of their head and foam at the mouth?

GO FOR IT!

 And don't say a stack of unpaid bills or a cattle prod!  So, come on, out with it! I want to know what your other half absolutely despises, but that you just can't part with. (Or something that your other half wears that you'd like to burn?)

I'll set the ball rolling - Mr. Sulky HATES me wearing jeans with any kind of rip or tear in them. I mean it's not as if I'm casually strolling around with my furry ass hanging out like Pamela Anderson, on my way to an audience with the Pope, so I don't see the problem. (Indignant sniff) In retaliation, I refuse to let him wear any type of cardigan - EVER! I hate to see a man of any age in a cardigan. It just crushes my soul, so I can't allow it to happen. Please just be honest, and even if you never comment, don't hold back. Nobody ever reads this blog anyway, so your dirty little secrets are safe with me!

MEOW!