Archive for December, 2007

2007 Vagenius Grants

Published by Rob on December 30, 2007 in Camel Toes and Features. 1 Comment

Although our site has a penis pun in its name, in 2007 it became increasingly impossible even for us to deny the vast, all-consuming power of the vagina. The steadily escalating trend of starlet pussy slips in past years seemed to lay the groundwork for an unprecented vag-splosion of gynocentricity in popular culture.

From the poonhound dialogue in Superbad (”I’ll be the Iron Chef of pounding vazzzzh!”) to the unprecedented rash of career-interrupting premature pregnancies (smell ya later, Jessica Alba!), those twin Americans obsessions - sex and baby bumps - joined forces to create a mini-zeitgeist in which pussy was on everyone’s lips. (Except ours, of course.)

With that (and with all due apologies to the MacArthur Foundation), we’re pleased to award the following Vagenius Grants for 2007:

Brenda Dickson: The deposed soap slag’s cameltoe-drenched 1987 “Welcome to My Home” video was rediscovered through the magic of YouTube, inspiring a gutbusting series of parody voiceovers and prompting at least one “fan” to lash out in the former actress’ defense. We’re just glad the phrase “Notice the slit?” has permanently entered our lexicon.

Alexyss K. Tylor: Public access TV superstar Alexyss K. Tylor was another YouTube success d’vagine.. Her Vagina Power series featured a touching rapport between Alexyss and her mother, who played the benign Andy to Alexyss’ orgasm-obsessed Conan. Bonus points: Alexyss’ Hotlanta accent often causes her to pronounce “vagina” with a B.

The casts of Feast of Love and Tell Me You Love Me: We’re not sure why the year’s two most elaborate mainstream showcases of female nudity both co-starred multiple Oscar nominee and former NEA chairwoman Jane Alexander. All I know is that her septuagenarian sex scene with David Selby (Quentin from Dark Shadows!) on HBO’s otherwise dull Tell Me was an even bigger turnoff than the much-ballyhooed Adam Scott Prosthetic Handjob.

Jamie Lynn Spears: As big a year as it was for Britney, her little sis helped ensure that the Spears name will forever be synonymous with the term “cooter.” Canny trendspotters have already named “keeping the baby” as the hot new fad for 2008. Won’t someone please think of the knitting needles?

MVP(en15): James Marsden

Published by Rob on December 5, 2007 in Celebs and Famous PEN15s. 3 Comments

Every so often, an actor whom you’d written off as a generic pretty boy surprises you with hidden reserves of talent. Usually, this happens through a series of rigorous performances in gritty independent dramas (see Heath Ledger and Joseph Gordon-Levitt).

James Marsden has gone about it another way, by turning out to be a completely charming PG-rated song and dance man - albeit one who, well into his thirties, can still rock a super-hot black-and-white photo shoot.

Marsden was so dreamy as Corny Collins, the Denny Terrio-style Baltimore TV host, in Hairspray, that he singlehandedly threw off the equilibrium of the plot by making Zac Efron look like the skinny Kristy McNichol lookalike that he is. Why would Tracy be so crazy about Efron’s Linc when the host of the show is cuter, a better singer and dancer, and old enough to have a job?

Marsden, unlike Efron and most of the film’s other marquee names, also wins points for having the balls to perform a number from the movie live on The Today Show. He wasn’t very good, but at least he tried (take that, Miss Travolta!).

And now, he’s at it again, delivering a totally goofy, committed, infectious performance as a clueless Prince Charming in the surprisingly well-crafted Enchanted (which I did indeed pay to see, and yes, there were a lot of other twentysomething gay men in the audience, thankyouverymuch). And while Amy Adams deserves every rave she’s getting as the fish-out-of-water heroine, Marsden is every bit as adept in the musical numbers and as a physical comedian. His prince is supposed to be sweet but a little buffoonish - a lightweight next to Patrick Dempsey (and let’s all pause a minute to consider the outlandishness of that phrase) - but he’s pretty lovable nonetheless.

Prior to these two breakthroughs, Marsden had mostly been relegated to stock roles in franchise blockbusters and leads in indies that nobody saw (although he was very good as a Manhattan closet case in the excellent Heights from 2005). Hopefully now he’ll have more opportunities to show off his talents without being typecast in kiddie fare.

James Marsden Hairspray concert [YouTube]
Image source (NSFW) [iCandy]

Suckers and Spice

Published by Rob on December 3, 2007 in Celebs and Rants. 7 Comments

The Spice Girls are officially back on tour, thereby implementing Phase 3 of succubus Victoria Beckham’s plan for wall-to-wall saturation of all major (sorry, may-juh!) forms of media. And the amount of attention this reunion has received - to say nothing of substantial ticket sales - leads me to revisit the old Warhol saw about everyone having 15 minutes of fame.

I don’t think it’s true. I think, if anything, we’ve passed the point where everyone had 15 minutes. That paradigm worked for the Darva Congers and Omarosas and Kristin Cavallaris. No, I believe that in today’s brave new world, the howlingly mediocre get famous and stay famous.

That’s how a ferret-faced cockney slag like Posh can have a higher Q rating with America’s schoolchildren than 9 out of 10 Presidential candidates (okay, I made up that statistic, but it sounds true, right?).

I think one of the reasons I’ve been posting on this blog less frequently is that I’m starting to feel more and more alienated from pop culture. I can’t even find my satirical entry point into a world where people buy tickets to Spice Girls reunion concerts.

The tipping point, for me, was last month’s death of the Osmond paterfamilias. I was still confused as to how Dancing With the Stars had fostered a weird Marie Osmond renaissance, when the next thing I knew, Entertainment Tonight was on at my gym and there was her brother Donny, crying about his dead daddy (who had just expired that day) to Mary Hart in an “ET exclusive.” Then the Dead Osmond press tour continued on Oprah and Larry King, which led to the “Marie’s son is in rehab!” heartbreaker. Then Marie got kicked off Dancing and somehow Donny popped up in the trailer for the next shitty Martin Lawrence movie.

How had these incesto-creepy ’70s throwback Mormon-bots catapulted from obscurity to omnipresence in just a few weeks? If someone had told you, in 1978 (four years before I was born), that Marie Osmond would be receiving widespread media attention in 2007, how would you have handled it? I probably would have headed straight to Jonestown.

At least there the Kool-Aid didn’t come with Spice.