Tom Sizemore’s one sorry bastard. He fucks up in Hollywood, then makes some greasy-ass porn, and now he’s admitted to taking meth, which could land him in the pokey. Let’s hope it does. The world could use a lot less Tom. There’s no point in anyone giving him any more money to “entertain” us. I don’t think they guy ever successfully did that, anyway. Just another sad sack ready to be buried early through cheap hookers and drugs. Wahoo. R.I.P. Tom Sizemore.
Year: 2006 (Page 201 of 228)
A friend of Ron White’s tells him that Ron’s girlfriend said sometimes, she just wanted to stab him. Then the friend tried to soften the blow by saying, “Well, she was drunk.” Ron says, “Fuck, that’s the only time I tell the truth!”
Though it was only 10:00 in the morning on the west coast when Bullz-Eye chatted with Ron White, he must have been drunk, because he positively lays into Dane Cook towards the end of the conversation. A sample:
BE: Mitch Hedberg seems to be one of those comedians’ comedian. Dane Cook was talking about how much he loved him, and…
RW: Who?
BE: Dane Cook?
RW: Who’s that?
BE: Dane Cook is a wildly popular comedian. He’s a Boston guy, but he spends a lot of time in L.A. He just hosted “Saturday Night Live” recently. Very manic, funny guy. Very nice. He was pretty broken up about Mitch Hedberg as well.
RW: Did he know him?
BE: Not intimately. I think they were acquaintances, but I don’t know if it was any deeper than that.
RW: I was kidding, I know who Dane Cook is.
BE: I was gonna say, I was hoping you were pulling my leg.
RW: (He) does not make me laugh, at all, in any way, shape or form.
BE: Huh.
RW: It looks like smoke and mirrors. But it works for him, so…
White goes on to call Cook out for exaggerating about his album sales, putting down the Blue Collar guys, and putting himself in the same league as Bill Cosby. Harsh stuff, but he also takes the time to send some love to Lisa Lampanelli, Jim Gaffigan, and even found nice things to say about the girl who wanted to stab him; apparently, she could suck a golf ball through a straw, which is a pretty valuable skill for a woman to possess if she’s nuts.
You can read the full interview here.
Get a load of this: Scarlett Johannson and Keira Knightley, naked.
Word has it that Rachel McAdams was also going to appear on the cover, but modesty overwhelmed her, presumably after getting a look at the racktastic Johannson in the buff. Last month, VF subscribers got a nude shot of Lindsay Lohan, and now this. Whoever graces their cover next month is toast.
There’s also a video of Knightley and Johannson getting ready for the big shoot. And before you ask, no, they’re not naked in it.
Holy smokes, we are not going to get anything done today. Boom shacka lacka lacka lacka.
Ah yes, From Justin to Kelly, starring everyone’s favorite American idols Kelly Clarkson and Justin Guarini. Clarkson has since disavowed the project, but dammit, it’s one of those pieces of poo that you should sit down with and view while ingesting a few beers and tasty snacks. Clarkson’s always good eye candy, and Justin’s hair is too damn much! It’s true rock and roll, kids, and you know me likey that.
The plot is pointless. It’s Spring Break on Daytona Beach! Kelly’s workin’ in some dumpy-ass country bar dreaming of being a big time singer (more or less), and Justin and his buddies set up yearly parties and activities to help pay for their pad when school is in session. Of course, the two randomly bump into each other, but Kelly’s hussy southern belle bitch of a friend doesn’t think she’s party girl material for Justin and tries to sabotage their attempts at meeting over and over. Justin claims he’s not really a partying, multiple-sex partner kinda guy and really digs Kelly. See, I told you it was pointless.
And so are the songs! Man, during one slow tune, Justin and Kelly start singing telepathically to each other and then burst out into song. It’s beautiful. There’s also a cool scene later on in the movie where Justin has to play some sort of stupid hovercraft game in the ocean against a local yokel from Kelly’s hometown to prove his love for her! Then there’s also a shitty cover version of The Go-Gos “Vacation” playing over the opening credits as sung by Clarkson. Justin’s wild hairdo also gets wet twice!
It’s all too much and easy to see why Kelly scratched this one off her resume. But there’s enough so bad it’s good shit here to make it worth sitting through drunkenly at least once. Especially when the first musical number is nothing but an ode about getting it on sung by a beach full of horny kids all doing synchronized dance moves. What’s more, the DVD has two versions of the movie – the regular theatrical release and a longer one with two extra songs! I watched the longer one for maximum torture.
From Justin to Kelly was a fine ebay purchase for $1.99. With shipping and all it came to a little over three bucks. Anyway, we all know Kelly’s gone on to greater things, and Justin…well, his website is pretty bleak. Let’s just say he’s probably hoping for a sequel. Ah well, maybe he’ll get his own pinball game. That would be awesome.
So call me behind the times, but I recently just got done finishing reading Gregory McDonald’s novel, Fletch, which the Chevy Chase flick was of course based on. Might I say loosely based on. For those like me who might not have stuck their noses into the book, let me just say that it’s a terrific read, far funnier and much darker than what the movie became. Entire characters were removed, names changed, subplots deleted, etc. A damn shame. The movie was always one of my fave Chevy flicks, but after reading the book, I can’t say it is anymore. Bottom line is the thing needs to be remade faithfully to the novel. There’s no slapstick bullshit in it, for once, and secondly the dialogue in the book is brilliant. All of this was lost in the movie. In fact, you could turn a shitload of the Fletch books into great movies, I’m sure. I know Kevin Smith was at one time going to film Fletch Won, but other projects got in the way. Fine by me. And as much as I dig you at times, Chevy, you’re just really not Fletch at all. Not once during my reading did I ever picture you, and that’s a good thing.
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