Congratulations are in order for Pamela Anderson and Kid Rock, who threw one fabulous party in St. Tropez today to celebrate their not-quite-yet-legal marriage. In keeping with Canadian tradition, the bride wore a white string bikini. According to Pam's website, "Pics will be out soon, from inside the boat we took." Uh-oh. Pam + amorous husband + boat...
All the best to the happy couple, but let's hope they left the camcorder at home.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Studs With Studs: Discuss
Question: What is the status of the earring in men's fashion these days? Has there been some kind of edict on this in the past five or six years?
Previously worn exclusively by pirates and Ziggy Stardust, the earring became a must-have male accessory around the time I was in the sixth grade (ca. 1990). Made impossibly cool by the likes of the Fresh Prince, the New Kids on the Block, Marky Mark and David Silver (OK, not such a good example), ear-piercing was all the rage among pre-teen boys, taking over where the rat-tail haircut left off (props to Jordan Knight for carrying the rat-tail torch into the 1990s). Fathers everywhere were cursing the day their sons came home with that shiny new gold hoop earring in their left ear. To my recollection, the left ear was the only acceptable ear to get pierced at this time. Getting one's right ear pierce was to risk utter and complete social alienation--that is, until it started to be cool to have both ears pierced. Then all hell broke loose (eg. Dennis Rodman).
It seems to me that the dark ages of the male earring started when AARP members like Ed Bradley and Harrison Ford starting sporting studs. That, and the freaky-freaky stage get-ups of such music artists as Marilyn Manson and Trent Reznor started to make guys who wore earrings look about as bad-ass as Ward Cleaver (actually, I take that back--Ward Cleaver was pretty bad-ass on occasion).
In the three minutes I spent researching this post, I couldn't really find a clear answer on whether the male earring is still cool these days. What I did find was a 1998 Ebony article that cites examples of famous earring-wearers such as "trendsetting actor Malcolm-Jamal Warner" (aka Theo) to make the point that earrings are completely acceptable accessories for men.
The theologians among my readers (?) might be curious to learn that I found two articles that offer biblical answers to the question of whether men should wear earrings. This article makes the argument that men wearing earrings makes God angry. But this other article on the same subject is more wishy-washy. To be honest, I found both quite frightening.
So I will leave this question unanswered. Unlike bandannas, there is no clear right or wrong when it comes to earrings and men's fashion. I think the issue has to be painstakingly reviewed on a case-by-case basis. Now, the rat-tail, on the other hand--dudes need to bring that back.
Previously worn exclusively by pirates and Ziggy Stardust, the earring became a must-have male accessory around the time I was in the sixth grade (ca. 1990). Made impossibly cool by the likes of the Fresh Prince, the New Kids on the Block, Marky Mark and David Silver (OK, not such a good example), ear-piercing was all the rage among pre-teen boys, taking over where the rat-tail haircut left off (props to Jordan Knight for carrying the rat-tail torch into the 1990s). Fathers everywhere were cursing the day their sons came home with that shiny new gold hoop earring in their left ear. To my recollection, the left ear was the only acceptable ear to get pierced at this time. Getting one's right ear pierce was to risk utter and complete social alienation--that is, until it started to be cool to have both ears pierced. Then all hell broke loose (eg. Dennis Rodman).
It seems to me that the dark ages of the male earring started when AARP members like Ed Bradley and Harrison Ford starting sporting studs. That, and the freaky-freaky stage get-ups of such music artists as Marilyn Manson and Trent Reznor started to make guys who wore earrings look about as bad-ass as Ward Cleaver (actually, I take that back--Ward Cleaver was pretty bad-ass on occasion).
In the three minutes I spent researching this post, I couldn't really find a clear answer on whether the male earring is still cool these days. What I did find was a 1998 Ebony article that cites examples of famous earring-wearers such as "trendsetting actor Malcolm-Jamal Warner" (aka Theo) to make the point that earrings are completely acceptable accessories for men.
The theologians among my readers (?) might be curious to learn that I found two articles that offer biblical answers to the question of whether men should wear earrings. This article makes the argument that men wearing earrings makes God angry. But this other article on the same subject is more wishy-washy. To be honest, I found both quite frightening.
So I will leave this question unanswered. Unlike bandannas, there is no clear right or wrong when it comes to earrings and men's fashion. I think the issue has to be painstakingly reviewed on a case-by-case basis. Now, the rat-tail, on the other hand--dudes need to bring that back.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
You Go, Lance!
Today, former N'Sync member Lance Bass officially came out, making the following statement to the media:
“The thing is, I’m not ashamed — that’s the one thing I want to say. I don’t think it’s wrong, I’m not devastated going through this. I’m more liberated and happy than I’ve been my whole life. I’m just happy.”
You know, I never was much of an N'Sync fan, but this was one of the most heartwarming news stories I've heard all week. You go, Lance!
“The thing is, I’m not ashamed — that’s the one thing I want to say. I don’t think it’s wrong, I’m not devastated going through this. I’m more liberated and happy than I’ve been my whole life. I’m just happy.”
You know, I never was much of an N'Sync fan, but this was one of the most heartwarming news stories I've heard all week. You go, Lance!
Friday, July 21, 2006
Running Farrell
My trip to L.A. is now officially complete--I have been to a red-carpet movie premiere. Miami Vice premiered tonight at the Mann Village Theatre in Westwood and I simply could not pass up the opportunity to saunter down the street after dinner and snap some pictures of the divine Messrs. Farrell and Foxx.
Never having been to one of these gigs before, I wasn't exactly sure where the best vantage point for star-watching would be. I first stood on the street corner out in front of Stan's Donuts (where I've been three times in the past week) amidst a pack of professional autograph hounds who, quite frankly, frightened me just a bit. Some of them were kind of like the L.A. equivalent of Comic Book Store Guy from the Simpsons.
Fortunately, a security guard came along and offered to take a group of people to the red-carpet-side bleachers across the street. I opted to go along, which resulted in me gaining a clear view of the stars as they made their way down the press gauntlet.
Using my old-school 35mm point-and-shoot camera, I snapped photos of Angie Harmon and Jason Sehorn, Tyrese, Victoria Rowell, Li Gong, Regina King, Pieter Jan Brugge (the film's producer), and, of course, Jamie Foxx and Colin Farrell. I also took a nice shot of Philip Michael Thomas. Unfortunately, Don Johnson was nowhere to be seen.
All the actors looked every bit as attractive in person as they do on film. Which, of course, did not surprise me. All in all, this is probably one of the most aesthetically-pleasing trips I've ever taken. I'm going to have to ease myself back into reality slowly this weekend.
Never having been to one of these gigs before, I wasn't exactly sure where the best vantage point for star-watching would be. I first stood on the street corner out in front of Stan's Donuts (where I've been three times in the past week) amidst a pack of professional autograph hounds who, quite frankly, frightened me just a bit. Some of them were kind of like the L.A. equivalent of Comic Book Store Guy from the Simpsons.
Fortunately, a security guard came along and offered to take a group of people to the red-carpet-side bleachers across the street. I opted to go along, which resulted in me gaining a clear view of the stars as they made their way down the press gauntlet.
Using my old-school 35mm point-and-shoot camera, I snapped photos of Angie Harmon and Jason Sehorn, Tyrese, Victoria Rowell, Li Gong, Regina King, Pieter Jan Brugge (the film's producer), and, of course, Jamie Foxx and Colin Farrell. I also took a nice shot of Philip Michael Thomas. Unfortunately, Don Johnson was nowhere to be seen.
All the actors looked every bit as attractive in person as they do on film. Which, of course, did not surprise me. All in all, this is probably one of the most aesthetically-pleasing trips I've ever taken. I'm going to have to ease myself back into reality slowly this weekend.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Fun, Fun, Fun
I spent the weekend playing tourist at various sites around L.A. and Santa Monica, some on the beaten path, some off. I did a lot of walking, got a lot of sun and had an awesome time. And yes, I rode the bus everywhere. Although I am now going to have to take back what I wrote in my last entry about the L.A. bus system being underused. It's actually pretty hoppin'. Still too many cars on the road, but the bright spot is that I have seen a lot of Toyota Priuses around town.
Saturday I took the bus to the north end of Koreatown and hopped on the subway up to Hollywood and Vine. Having only ever heard terrible things about Hollywood, I braced myself for the worst--however, I have to say it wasn't nearly as rough as I imagined it would be. Of course, I was there on a Saturday afternoon in peak tourist season. I'm sure it's no picnic at, say, 3 am on a Tuesday night. When I was there it wasn't so bad. It pretty much is what it is. Girls! Girls! Girls!--but not the Elvis Presley version. For my Torontonian readers, Hollywood Blvd. is a shade or two worse on the urban decay spectrum than the most decrepit blocks of Yonge Street. But the Walk of Fame is pretty awesome (except that you forget to look where you're going, which can get you into trouble). And I happened upon this fantastic movie collectibles shop at which I was able to pick up some lovely Rock Hudson production stills from 1952. Now that's what I call souvenir shopping.
If the tourist action at the Hollywood & Highland shopping centre (part of the complex that houses the Kodak Theatre) is any indication, Hollywood's darkest days are behind it. The mall is squeaky clean, upscale, and jam-packed with suburban families. Disney bought the El Capitan theatre across the street and has spruced it up as well. To anyone tempted to insert anti-corporatization grumbling here, can it already. If it's between pimps and Disney, I'll take Disney (and you can quote me on that).
After chowing down at Johnny Rocket's and taking a slew of requisite tourist photos, I journey back downtown to Union Station, which is an absolutely gorgeous building--an L.A. must-see, I believe. As is the Olvera Street marketplace, a fabulous oasis in downtown L.A. packed with vendors selling traditional Mexican goods. It was my first time visiting there and it's definitely one of my favourite places I've been in L.A. so far.
On Sunday I had to make a trip to the beach, so I bused it out to Venice. A totally crazy place, but another definite must-see. I watched both surfers and grafitti artists working hard at their respective pastimes, but was disappointed to find Muscle Beach more or less deserted. I suppose it was too hot to buff one's bod yesterday.
My favourite part about Venice is the Venice Canals Walkway, the network of sidewalks that you can take in and around all the positively stunning homes built on the existing canals. I kind of want one of those houses.
When I left Venice, I headed north to Ocean Park, the groovy southern Santa Monica neighborhood that is much quieter--and hipper, in my opinion--than the 3rd Street Promenade in Santa Monica proper. The retail is soooo Californian: surf shops, yoga studios, organic tea shops, acupuncture clinics, and raw food cafes.
I wound up finishing up my day's travels in downtown Santa Monica, at Ye Olde King's Head pub, a favourite spot from my last trip to L.A. because of its tasty British fare that reminds me of pubs back home in the old country (by which I mean Toronto).
A highly satisfying weekend of sun, surf (watching) and local colour--I think this city is working it's crazy magic on me. Good thing I'm headed back home soon.
Saturday I took the bus to the north end of Koreatown and hopped on the subway up to Hollywood and Vine. Having only ever heard terrible things about Hollywood, I braced myself for the worst--however, I have to say it wasn't nearly as rough as I imagined it would be. Of course, I was there on a Saturday afternoon in peak tourist season. I'm sure it's no picnic at, say, 3 am on a Tuesday night. When I was there it wasn't so bad. It pretty much is what it is. Girls! Girls! Girls!--but not the Elvis Presley version. For my Torontonian readers, Hollywood Blvd. is a shade or two worse on the urban decay spectrum than the most decrepit blocks of Yonge Street. But the Walk of Fame is pretty awesome (except that you forget to look where you're going, which can get you into trouble). And I happened upon this fantastic movie collectibles shop at which I was able to pick up some lovely Rock Hudson production stills from 1952. Now that's what I call souvenir shopping.
If the tourist action at the Hollywood & Highland shopping centre (part of the complex that houses the Kodak Theatre) is any indication, Hollywood's darkest days are behind it. The mall is squeaky clean, upscale, and jam-packed with suburban families. Disney bought the El Capitan theatre across the street and has spruced it up as well. To anyone tempted to insert anti-corporatization grumbling here, can it already. If it's between pimps and Disney, I'll take Disney (and you can quote me on that).
After chowing down at Johnny Rocket's and taking a slew of requisite tourist photos, I journey back downtown to Union Station, which is an absolutely gorgeous building--an L.A. must-see, I believe. As is the Olvera Street marketplace, a fabulous oasis in downtown L.A. packed with vendors selling traditional Mexican goods. It was my first time visiting there and it's definitely one of my favourite places I've been in L.A. so far.
On Sunday I had to make a trip to the beach, so I bused it out to Venice. A totally crazy place, but another definite must-see. I watched both surfers and grafitti artists working hard at their respective pastimes, but was disappointed to find Muscle Beach more or less deserted. I suppose it was too hot to buff one's bod yesterday.
My favourite part about Venice is the Venice Canals Walkway, the network of sidewalks that you can take in and around all the positively stunning homes built on the existing canals. I kind of want one of those houses.
When I left Venice, I headed north to Ocean Park, the groovy southern Santa Monica neighborhood that is much quieter--and hipper, in my opinion--than the 3rd Street Promenade in Santa Monica proper. The retail is soooo Californian: surf shops, yoga studios, organic tea shops, acupuncture clinics, and raw food cafes.
I wound up finishing up my day's travels in downtown Santa Monica, at Ye Olde King's Head pub, a favourite spot from my last trip to L.A. because of its tasty British fare that reminds me of pubs back home in the old country (by which I mean Toronto).
A highly satisfying weekend of sun, surf (watching) and local colour--I think this city is working it's crazy magic on me. Good thing I'm headed back home soon.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Get On the Bus
I feel that I am now fully assimilated into Angeleno culture after making many, many trips on L.A.'s great yet sorely underused bus system today. Over the course of almost twelve hours, I got on and off buses in Hollywood, Beverly Hills, Westwood, Brentwood and Santa Monica today. A couple were packed. One was empty save for me for a while. I met some very friendly people and got to take in lots of the cityscape. For example, I am now extremely familiar with the corner of Wilshire Blvd. and Veteran Avenue that I sat at for about fifteen minutes or more today, watching the traffic crawl towards the 405 freeway entrance. As many times as I've sat on the DVP in rush hour, I can honestly say I've never seen traffic move that slowly before.
The insanely bizarre thing about L.A. is, its residents think traffic like that is completely normal. They willingly sit through it every single day. I watched car after car creep by carrying only one person, a driver chatting animatedly on his/her cell phone and dealing pleasantly enough with the worst gridlock I've ever witnessed. C-r-a-z-y. I talked to a few Angelenos about their transportation situation today. One man had had his car totalled six months ago, decided to try out the bus for a change, and is happy with the switch. He says the subway's great too--I'm going to try that out on the weekend. Another couple of guys I talked to said they couldn't imagine taking the bus at all--they wouldn't even know which bus to take to get from where they lived to work each day. They thought I was properly nuts for even trying.
This seems to be the normal response from city natives when I tell them about my bus travels. I was told I was crazy for trying to take the bus from Westwood to Hollywood, but that worked out just fine today. Granted, I missed the stop where I had to transfer and ended up arriving at my destination about half an hour later than I'd planned, but fortunately, I'd left early. That's the thing about getting around in L.A.--if you have time to spare and can adopt a sort of Zen-like attitude towards the sometimes Herculean effort it takes to get from point A to point B, it's not so bad.
While L.A. makes me appreciate cabs, the TTC (yes, even the Queen streetcar at rush hour), and the possibility of walking anywhere, I can't say it hasn't started to grow on me in its own crazy way. No matter how frustrating the situation on the ground is, you can always look up and see a sunny, bright blue sky above, a palm tree or two, and sometimes, as was the case for me this morning, HOLLYWOOD beckoning to you in the distance. And that's pretty damn cool, if you ask me.
The insanely bizarre thing about L.A. is, its residents think traffic like that is completely normal. They willingly sit through it every single day. I watched car after car creep by carrying only one person, a driver chatting animatedly on his/her cell phone and dealing pleasantly enough with the worst gridlock I've ever witnessed. C-r-a-z-y. I talked to a few Angelenos about their transportation situation today. One man had had his car totalled six months ago, decided to try out the bus for a change, and is happy with the switch. He says the subway's great too--I'm going to try that out on the weekend. Another couple of guys I talked to said they couldn't imagine taking the bus at all--they wouldn't even know which bus to take to get from where they lived to work each day. They thought I was properly nuts for even trying.
This seems to be the normal response from city natives when I tell them about my bus travels. I was told I was crazy for trying to take the bus from Westwood to Hollywood, but that worked out just fine today. Granted, I missed the stop where I had to transfer and ended up arriving at my destination about half an hour later than I'd planned, but fortunately, I'd left early. That's the thing about getting around in L.A.--if you have time to spare and can adopt a sort of Zen-like attitude towards the sometimes Herculean effort it takes to get from point A to point B, it's not so bad.
While L.A. makes me appreciate cabs, the TTC (yes, even the Queen streetcar at rush hour), and the possibility of walking anywhere, I can't say it hasn't started to grow on me in its own crazy way. No matter how frustrating the situation on the ground is, you can always look up and see a sunny, bright blue sky above, a palm tree or two, and sometimes, as was the case for me this morning, HOLLYWOOD beckoning to you in the distance. And that's pretty damn cool, if you ask me.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
The Fresh Princess of Bel Air
Having recently purchased new running shoes, I was excited to have the chance to break them in on my trip to L.A. on some sightseeing runs. So I ventured out for my first run this morning. I'm staying in Westwood village, right on the edge of the UCLA campus, so I figured that Bel Air would be a nifty running destination (originally I wanted to make it up to the Playboy Mansion, but then I realized it would be a touch too far--besides, isn't it more normal for women to run away from the Playboy Mansion than towards it?). I made my way on up north through the campus at a decent clip, feeling energized by the bright sun, blue skies, and deceptively invisible smog. Sure, there were a few hills...well, actually, running north in this part of town is pretty much all hills, all the time. Like, break-ass hills. Like there's a reason everybody around here is so crazy about yoga and pilates and all that jazz--it's because it's too damn hard to run anywhere. Particularly in Bel Air, which I found out has no sidewalks. I don't think residents venture outside the gates of their homes on foot. This morning, the only people on the road were me and legions of garden workers. I wondered if I might get thrown out by a security patrol for being on the street without a leaf blower in my hand.
An hour later and I was finally in sight of where I'd started, feeling very tired and keening for level ground. But the adventure was worth it. Bel Air, like most other locations in L.A., looks just as spectacular in real life as it does in the movies. What amazed me was that within a couple hundred feet of entering Bel Air off of Sunset Blvd., the noise of the traffic seemed to die away almost instantly and became replaced by the serene chirping of birds and hissing of garden sprinklers. The place isn't just a neighbourhood--I'm convinced it's a hermetically-sealed bubble.
An hour later and I was finally in sight of where I'd started, feeling very tired and keening for level ground. But the adventure was worth it. Bel Air, like most other locations in L.A., looks just as spectacular in real life as it does in the movies. What amazed me was that within a couple hundred feet of entering Bel Air off of Sunset Blvd., the noise of the traffic seemed to die away almost instantly and became replaced by the serene chirping of birds and hissing of garden sprinklers. The place isn't just a neighbourhood--I'm convinced it's a hermetically-sealed bubble.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
L.A. Stories
I have ventured once more out to the strange and marvellous world that is the west coast. I have two weeks ahead of me in Los Angeles, primarily shuttling around between Westwood, Beverly Hills, and anywhere else the Wilshire Blvd. bus can take me. Here are a few initial notes on my L.A. experiences over the past 24 hours:
You know you're on a plane to L.A. when a guy sitting in your row pulls out his screenplay for in-flight reading material. Good Lord--does it get any more L.A. than that? It was all pristine and crisp-cornered, with impressively shiny brass brads. I'm thinking, great, excellent, good for you--I mean, hey, I've got one of those kicking around myself--but it's soooo much less pretentious to just kick back with a vacuous magazine like the rest of your comrades in coach. You ain't gonna run into Jerry Bruckheimer at the back of the bus, buddy--better off snagging an FHM.
I actually saw people break into a car-fight today over entering/exiting a parking garage on La Cienega. I think that the car-fight might be an L.A.-specific phenomenon. It's like any other kind of fight, except the participants never get out of their cars; they just yell and gesture wildly as if they were within striking distance of their opponent. What happened was one car exited the parking garage at the same time another car was about to turn into it. They very nearly ran into each other--then both slammed on the brakes and started raising hell. I don't believe it had been resolved by the time I got to my bus-stop. They very well could still be out there.
Rodeo Drive actually sparkles. I think they use Crest Street Whitener (TM).
My cab driver yesterday told me he once gave Ashton Kutcher a lift before he was famous. Except the cabbie wasn't sure of Ashton Kutcher's name. He just said "You know--the guy who's with Demi Moore." Ooooh....SNAP!
More instalments are forthcoming (I'm hoping to write enough L.A. blogs that they can go into blog syndication).
You know you're on a plane to L.A. when a guy sitting in your row pulls out his screenplay for in-flight reading material. Good Lord--does it get any more L.A. than that? It was all pristine and crisp-cornered, with impressively shiny brass brads. I'm thinking, great, excellent, good for you--I mean, hey, I've got one of those kicking around myself--but it's soooo much less pretentious to just kick back with a vacuous magazine like the rest of your comrades in coach. You ain't gonna run into Jerry Bruckheimer at the back of the bus, buddy--better off snagging an FHM.
I actually saw people break into a car-fight today over entering/exiting a parking garage on La Cienega. I think that the car-fight might be an L.A.-specific phenomenon. It's like any other kind of fight, except the participants never get out of their cars; they just yell and gesture wildly as if they were within striking distance of their opponent. What happened was one car exited the parking garage at the same time another car was about to turn into it. They very nearly ran into each other--then both slammed on the brakes and started raising hell. I don't believe it had been resolved by the time I got to my bus-stop. They very well could still be out there.
Rodeo Drive actually sparkles. I think they use Crest Street Whitener (TM).
My cab driver yesterday told me he once gave Ashton Kutcher a lift before he was famous. Except the cabbie wasn't sure of Ashton Kutcher's name. He just said "You know--the guy who's with Demi Moore." Ooooh....SNAP!
More instalments are forthcoming (I'm hoping to write enough L.A. blogs that they can go into blog syndication).
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Like Riding a Bicycle...Or Something
Since I haven't contributed to my blog in quite some time, I figured I should take some baby blog steps toward making a comeback. So I will devote this entry to mentioning one small recollection that made me laugh really hard today. I was thinking for a brief spell about cats and cars, and I suddenly remembered how, about fifteen years ago or so, you couldn't drive anywhere without seeing at least two or three cars with one of those crazy-ass stuffed Garfield cat-butts hanging out of the window/trunk. C'mon--you know you remember those things (maybe you owned one?). I'm not really sure why it was considered hilarious to have half a stuffed cat protruding from your car and those things got natty after being exposed to the elements for a couple of months. But people loved them! And now the very thought of them makes me laugh.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)