Category Archives: Entertainment

#36: Ryan Gosling

Hey Girl.

Hey Girl. Riots, not Diets.

Hey Girl. Riots, not Diets.

Caution. Ryan Gosling uttering these words into any woman’s quivering ears may lead to a complete and total psychological break. Hell, just looking at him melts me into a pile of stupid. If I met him, I’d certainly look like a stalker. Or an imbecile. Probably an imbecile.

The simple truth is, Ryan Gosling is the perfect man. He oozes a combination of sex appeal and sensitivity that no mere mortal can reproduce. He can make a 1990s goatee/pirate beard seem cool again. Aaarrg! He worked an awesome scorpion jacket in Drive. An effing scorpion jacket. He wears Levis like they were meant to sit on those perfect, muscular, cut hips. Look at those eyes. I know you want to. He’s like a puppy dog. A puppy dog that needs a home. A puppy dog that needs a home and a female companion that can love him. Change him. Caress him. Adore him.

Oh, I'm sorry. Were you saying something important?

Oh, I’m sorry. Were you saying something important?

What? Oh, I’m sorry. I think I just blacked out. What were we talking about? Sex? No? Ah, yes. I remember now. Mr. Gosling. So, technically sex was the correct answer. Suck it.

The thing is, many of Hollywood’s elite males get women going for all of the right reasons. Brad Pitt was Numero Uno for most women for an entire decade (Just a note: I was totally Team Angie). Bradley Cooper is also delightful. The dude speaks French. Fluently. That’s pretty hard to contend with. But Ryan? This guy is different. He gets us. He understands our wants, needs and desires. He wants to make women happy. All women. There’s an entire feminist blog  that proves this point. I swear.

I’ll pretty much see any movie this man is in. He’s batting at about a 99% on the awesome scale anyway. One word: Drive. I don’t care what the man does after that film. Perfection. Ryan Gosling spends most of the film without dialog, yet he says so much. I think it was something like, “Hey girl. I saw you over there looking sad. Want a hug? I’ll take you for a ride in my car. Smile.” Side note though, where in the hell was his Oscar nomination? The Academy saw fit to nominate (and choose) a Frenchman, but they never recognized a classic American-God-like- wonderboy, with acting chops to match? I should have known The Academy was full of shit after Crash won the Oscar. I effing hate the Oscars. Dicks.

Everyone needs this jacket.

Every man needs this jacket. I’m not joking.

That brings me to Blue Valentine. Admission: I thought Blue Valentine was going to be a romance. A fucking romance. I was  profoundly wrong in this assumption. I’m possibly retarded. Still, Gosling made this two-hour Odyssey of Depression bearable. Spoiler Alert: This movie is not happy. Not at all. I felt gutted afterward. I wanted to drink. Then cry. Then drink again. If that’s not your cup of tea, look away. Run. Don’t look back. Just, sprint.

But ladies, if you value your life, please don’t bring up The Notebook around me. While Ryan is adorable in it (I can call him Ryan because he understands me), I’d rather remove my eyeballs with a spoon than sit through something that Nicholas Sparks is responsible for. OMFG he sucks balls. While I’ll admit that The Notebook is probably his strongest…um… novel, it doesn’t mean too much when your life’s work is a steaming pile of shit.

I’m clearly off track. Back to business.

I’m pretty sure Ryan Gosling is here to stay for the long haul. He just wants us to love him and accept him for who he is. No strings attached. He’s all man. All real. Perfection. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I feel the urge to watch old episodes of Goosebumps. Yep. I went there. I bet you thought I’d bring up The Mickey Mouse Club. Guess you were wrong. Boom.

And gentlemen: Try the scorpion jacket. For realz.

#35: The Royals

More specifically? Royal weddings.

The concept that a rational, American woman would wake up at 5am, make some tea, eat some fancy sandwiches, wear a hat and weep over a wedding that isn’t even a fundamental part of our current American society– well, that befuddled my poor husband. It irritated him so deeply that he demanded I stop speaking of it in his presence. Seriously. It kind of sounded like a threat. I decided not to test him. So, I called my sisters instead. On my cell phone. At least 50 feet from my house. Like I said, I didn’t want to test him.

I’ll admit it. I cried. And all of you other American, hat-wearing, tea-drinking, waking-up- early bitches cried too. Did you see Prince William tell her she looked “beautiful?” Did you? DID YOU? Well, I did. And then I wept for about 15 minutes. Uncontrollably. Seriously. I looked like Claire Danes in My So-Called Life. And I wasn’t ashamed. And OMFG, did you see Kate’s dress? Alexander McQueen nearly killed me with its blinding beauty. And Pippa’s dress? Sweet Jesus, I died and went to heaven. Yes. I know her sister’s name. In fact, I follow her for fashion secrets on People.com now.  And you do too. Admit it.

She looks like a fucking demon. And she's not even the ugly one.

Just a note: Fergie’s kids did not win the looks lottery. Just sayin’.

Why do women care about this nonsense? What broke inside of us when we were 5, just after we saw The Little Mermaid or Beauty and The Beast and we all individually decided– I am soooo into princesses? I know more about British Royals than I should as a red-blooded American girl. I have to trace it back to Disney on some level. I mean, it has nothing to do with Historical references, so I have to assume that the evil bastards at Disney have ruined me and are now hell-bent on ruining my daughters. Note to self: Research female mental difficulties and their connections to the Disney Empire (Insert the Imperial March here).

I have to admit (I mean, I have nothing to lose at this point, do I?), I fucking love everything royal. I love their clothes. I love their accents. I love that they all do charity work because they don’t have real jobs and they’re bored.  I think they bring some class to the entertainment world– a type of  class that we lack with celebrities like Paris Hilton, Kanye West and Sarah Palin (If you think that she’s anything more than a C-List celeb, blow me).

As the ceremony neared, I couldn’t wait to see what Kate was going to wear, what the overrated Anglican ceremony would be like or what the Queen would say/do/or wear. Oh, and this just in England:  You are clearly Catholic. Don’t try and pretend like you’re anything else, you pompous bastards. Only the Pope could put on a show bigger than that and he’s too busy advocating abstinence in Africa and ignoring the AIDS epidemic altogether (“If I ignore it, then I don’t have to explain why God hates Africans”).

Look, if you didn’t already figure this out, women love a good wedding. Throw in a Princess, a horse drawn carriage, high fashion and a true love story straight out of a classy upper-class British romance novel– you’ve got yourself a winner. All women can just imagine the witty dialogue than ensued during that courtship. To us, Kate and William seem like a normal couple. They seem like two people all of us could hang out with. Hell, they invited their pub owner to their damn wedding– that is admirable and awesome. More than this, I think every woman out there recognizes the fact that Princess Diana still has a hold on most of us. Insert Disney hypnosis + tragic death here.  That equals pure gold as far as entertainment value is concerned– no matter how grotesque the concept may be. Women want William and Kate to be happy.  We actually care if they are. We also want to be able to say later in our lives,  “Yep. I watched it. it was amazing.”

Go ahead and mock us. We don’t care. Sure, we were tired that day. Sure, we spent too much money on collector’s magazines instead of that hair dye we needed to buy because ‘my hair has gotten a little bit brassy this spring and I really need to highlight it.’ Sure, we watched every E! highlight on the wedding after the fact and raved about hats, dresses and flowers. Sure, my husband threatened to shut down my cable TV if I talked about “that damn wedding” again. Still, I hold my head high. As do you, my sisters.

Just think, we have a Royal visit coming up soon. I wonder what Kate will wear? I wonder if they’ll dine at the White House? I guess I need to turn on E!

Let me just check and see if my husband is in the house. Nope. I’m home free.

Royals away!

#34: GLEE

You knew this one was coming.

Intrinsically tied with Musicals, GLEE has something for every woman. It’s like a stereotype bonanza. I’ll just list a few– you know–to get your feet wet.

  1. The outsider with inexplicable talent
  2. The really, really hot Jock with a Heart of Gold
  3. The Gay kid with a killer falsetto and fashion sense
  4. Song
  5. Dance
  6. More song
  7. Witty reparte
  8. Teen Angst

We freaking love it. Seriously. Where else can I  hear a Broadway-like rendition of “Don’t Stop Believing” AND “Bohemian Rhapsody” in one episode? I think my head exploded watching the Season 2 finale. I actually teared up. I’m a Gleek. I admit it. Bite me.

Just sayin’…

I’ve tried to figure out what it is about this show that makes most women sit down at 9pm on a Tuesday and shssssh everyone in the room, ignoring the fact that they have a DVR and this behavior is unnecessary. I’ve already mentioned that being a theater nerd, the singing gets me every time. More than that though– GLEE brings a sense of joy to the room when I’m watching it. My suddenly mediocre day seems a little shinier with a bit of song, dance and sarcasm. Plus, Brittany’s one-liners about Gay Sharks and her cat reading her diary are epic. EPIC. I quote her constantly. She is the true hero of my Tuesdays.

This show also connects with more people than the typical musical. Would you rather hear a ballad/dirge, or a rocking rendition of “Total Eclipse of the Heart”? Hmm? Ladies? I rest my case. (On that note– I heart you Bonnie Tyler. Thank you for this song, as well as “I Need a Hero”. Footloose would not be the same without your genius.)

But there’s the ‘Joy’ element again. Women of all ages watch GLEE, singing their hearts out with every song. It’s like a glorious Karaoke contest in our minds. Well, at least in my mind. You want these kids, these misfits, to succeed. You feel pain when they don’t, and joy when they do. It’s a bit sweet– like how High School could have been with a little improvisational song in the hallways. The solos by my locker would have been awesome…

Lastly, we cannot forget the genius that is Jane Lynch, AKA Sue Sylvester. Whether you like the show or not– this woman is the shit. Hilarious at every turn, she never falters. I swear she makes half of her lines up and they are all good. Why she doesn’t have her own damn show, I will never know. I often use her Will Shuster hair jokes on other people, just to see if they’ll work for me. They don’t. Why? Because I’m not motherf^&*%@* Jane Lynch, that’s why.

We can only hope that a meteorite falls on the studio that they film in. Assholes.

My husband hates GLEE. He would rather light his face on fire and dance a sexy jig at the BP station down the road than sit with me and watch it. I think most men feel this way about things that are musical related–he simply defends himself by saying that it’s contrived. I accept this fact, but I still watch it (knowing that he’s a TV snob). I just think the show should be accepted for what it is. It’s just fun. It’s not a depressing period piece, it’s not a formulaic cop-drama. Hell– it’s not a even the typical American-30-minute-shitty-sitcom like Two and a Half Men. I effing hate that show. Charlie Sheen– go fuck yourself. Seriously. John Cryer too. Eff you. And that fat kid actor in there– go outside and run. For like, 15 miles. Then, don’t eat for 4 days. That should help. How is this show still on TV? How? Tell me dammit! Good God.

I digress again. Okay, so GLEE isn’t Mad Men. I am totally aware of this. Still, it’s unique and it has spontaneous song. I love.

On that note, I leave you with this. My favorite Brittany and Sue Sylvester quotes. I defy you not to laugh.

Peace out and enjoy.

Brittany: “I’ve been here since first period. I had a cold and I took all my antibiotics at the same time, and now I can’t remember how to leave.”

Sue Sylvester: I don’t trust a man with curly hair. I can’t help but picturing birds laying sulfurous eggs in there and I find it disgusting”

#30: Ice Skating

I discovered The Cutting Edge when I was about 12.

I was watching the end. You know the part. They are at the Olympics, they do that crazy trick-thingy and he finally tells her that he loves her. My mother found me lying on the floor, crying. I told her that I wanted someone to ice skate with me and tell me that he loves me. She clearly thought that I had an imbalance.

Thus my love for ice skating was born.

Women adore this winter sport. It’s probably the only one that gets any ratings during the dismal Winter Olympics. I mean, what’s not to love? Ice, Bach playing to the rooftops, sparkly costumes–it’s a woman’s (and a gay man’s) wet dream. I would rank this on an entertainment scale, right next to Queer Eye for The Straight Guy and the Miss America Pageant. It’s a guilty pleasure of sorts. Still, it’s one of those pleasures we are not embarrassed to be fond of and it is certainly something that we will ALWAYS make our partners watch with us. You do know that your man hates this shit, right? He’s only watching it with you because he’s hoping to get lucky. Really.

If you are a straight man and you do enjoy ice skating, for the love of humanity– don’t tell anyone. Even if you were in musical theatre and dance class in High School, that does not excuse this behavior. Stop now. (Oh, and the part about your attachment to theatre and dance? Better leave that out of your argument. Not helping your case.)

I digress.

What I have always loved about ice skating usually didn’t involve the sport itself. It was the drama behind the scenes. Specifically the drama of 1994.

Nancy Kerrigan anyone? Tonya Harding? Oksana Baiul? Let me just school you on all three of these ‘situations’ in a nutshell.

Nancy Kerrigan was the All-American girl. Pretty, cuddly and a damn good skater to boot. Her nemesis? That other skater. The butch chick. The ugly one. Tonya Harding. She was also a pretty good skater–but not as good as the pretty one. The Winter Olympics of 1994 were coming up. People said Nancy had a great chance of winning it all. So, what did Tonya do? She hired her ex-husband to hit Nancy’s knee with a steel pipe. The result? Amazing TV gold.

YouTube Excellence.

Don’t you remember? “Why me? Why anybody?” It was awesome. To be quick, Kerrigan recovered and won the Silver Medal. Harding was banned from U.S. Figure Skating for life, released a sex tape, then she became a scary butchesque-boxer. Awesome.

*On a side note, I never liked Nancy Kerrigan. If Harding hadn’t put a hit on her, somebody would have. She gives me the creeps.*

What about Ms. Oksana Baiul?

She kicked Kerrigan’s ass in the Olympics and won the Gold. She decided to celebrate a few years later by inhaling about SIX Long Island Iced Teas and driving her car off of the road. I don’t know about you, but that chick can drink. 95 pounds and six of those drinks? What a champ.

Don’t you get it? Ice skating is the bomb. What girl hasn’t imagined putting on a sequined leotard and prancing around to a classical rendition of Living on a Prayer? What red-blooded, competetive lady hasn’t dreamed of clocking her nemesis with a club, a pipe or, well, something hard?

My shoelace came untied. And my costume is amazing.

When your guy says something like “Ice Skating is so lame,” kindly remind him that you would “never mess with an ice-skater because those bitches are crazy.” When he asks you about the male skaters, just give in and agree with him.

Why? Because men skating on the ice to classical renditions of Living on a Prayer in sparkly costumes… Well, that’s just gay.

#28: The Bad Boy

edI can save him. I can change him.

I swear. All he needs is the love of a good woman. That woman is obviously me.

In all seriousness, this tape will play through a woman’s clouded mind at least once in her little life. Probably more than once.

The appeal of the Bad Boy to the average woman can be completely befuddling to the average man. Why is it that women will stay with these jokers when they cheat, beat people up, smoke, drink, throw phones and otherwise are total douchebags? Cause They are extremely hot. Those chiseled cheek bones, the cigarette, messy hair, leather pants and philandering nature are all appealing. He won’t be that way forever silly. He just needs my undivided attention, love and loyalty. I can change him; make him a better man. One day he will realize that I am the one.

Duh.  It’s Science.

This concept really irritates my husband. “Why in the hell do women do this to themselves?” he questions– looking to me for an answer. Honestly? I don’t really have a good one. The Bad Boy is just so damn sexy. Maybe he’s the guy ladies  get all naughty with but never marry. Is that his role? To be a sexual teacher? I married a nice guy (who, mind you, is also a sexual tiger), my friends married nice guys. In general, those that married a Bad Boy are now divorced or headed that way.

Maybe that is it. Bad Boy= Sexual experience (sans strings). Maybe it’s just the fantasy of it all.

Let us discuss some fictional and non-fictional examples, shall we?

Hey Preppie.

Hey Preppie.

1. AC Slater (The Clean Bad Boy)

This is the PG Bad Boy.

He’s the Bad Boy to Zack Morris’ insipid California boy. He was, for many my age, the first real Bad Boy we were secretly coveting. I know that Mario Lopez is a total douche. I didn’t know this when I was 12 and strangely attracted to the guy that threatened to beat up Screech and danced in a leotard. I bet he could of taught Kelly Kapowski a thing or two about Sexual Education. Besides– the Jheri Curl mullet was amazing.

Take off your shirt and stop talking.

Take off your shirt and stop talking.

2. Sawyer (Bad Boy with a Heart)

What woman doesn’t want to spend months on a magic island with a shirtless Southern boy who breaks all of the rules? I mean, good God. Sawyer is the ultimate example of the Southern Bad boy. He puts the fat guy down, drinks, shoots guns, sleeps with the hot chick– did I mention he is usually shirtless? To top that off, he is heeelariously sarcastic.

The thing about Sawyer that is so appealing (setting aside his six-pack), is that although he is seriously flawed (which the right girl can ‘fix’), he has convictions. He has a heart. He shows it rarely, but when he does, women everywhere swoon. We are so effing dumb.

I love guns.

I love guns.

3. T.I. (Reformed Bad Boy)

I kind of want to ravage him.

Sure, he went to jail for a year after being caught with semi-automatic weapons, automatic weapons and silencers. Perhaps someone failed to mention to him the illegality of that particular purchase? He was probably going to kill someone. They probably had it coming.

Then, he got caught. Then, he reformed.

Hell, he had a whole record about how he had changed. He won awards for it! He Rocked the Vote. He spoke out against violence. See? Proof that Bad Boys can change. It wasn’t about getting a lighter sentence. Quit being so negative. He might shoot you.

Yep. He can eat me. I said it.

Yep. He can eat me. I said it.

4. Eric Northman (Evil Bad Boy)

Uh…I know I’ve mentioned him before– but damn.

He will straight murder your ass. He will not love you. He will eat you. He may have sex with you but then you will be his lunch. Let me just be the first to say that if I’m going to die, I’m okay with going that way.

Alan Ball and Charlaine Harris(True Blood Creators) came up with this Bad Boy character with no real redeemable qualities. He just is, simply, a Bad Boy. By this I mean he’s a killer. And it is really hot. A good woman might not be able to change him, but she will sure as hell die trying.

Dirty Hot.

Dirty Hot.

5. Colin Farrell (King of the Bad Boys)

What can I say here?

Irish? Check. Smoker? Check. Bad Mouth? Check. Sex Tape with a huge Wanker? Check. Man Whore? Check.

H-O-T.

May I present, Colin Farrell. The Ultimate Bad Boy.

I think that as we grow up and become more experienced sexually women begin to understand that the basic Bad Boy is not a keeper. Maybe we learn to use him like he uses us. I think that most of us just wish we had figured it out when we were younger so that we could maximize his usefullness– that whole ‘Sexual Teacher’ thing.

The truth is, you can’t change a Bad Boy. I blame Hollywood for making us think we can. It’s just stupid.

Take the Bad Boy for what he is–a blip on your sexual radar. No stings, no hearts broken.

Thoughts?

#27: Titanic

I wish they would fall.

I wish they would fall.

Dude.

Near, far, wherever you are (I’m at the bottom of the ocean you splintered-board hogging bitch), I believe that the heart does go on.

There are so many cliches in Titanic– it seems women are just destined to love this movie.

“I’m the King of the World?” Celine Dion? Tragic Love?

Yep. It’s all here.

Thanks must be given to James Cameron for this gem. Women across the universe lined up to witness a story about Leonardo DiCaprio, Kate Winslet and a boat. Women swooned, cried and fainted. They saw the film 10,11,12 times each. It is the highest grossing film of all time. Thanks to women.

Men, on the other hand; men loathe this movie. All males may love Aliens, The Terminator and The Abyss–but I’m not sure if James Cameron will ever be forgiven by the countless souls that were dragged to the theatre by their significant others to see this sap fest.

It’s been like, 12 years and I am still trying to figure this whole thing out. This Titanic thing. I saw it in high school. To me, it seemed like a 3 hour soap opera until the damn boat sank. The most memorable scene was the propeller guy. You know what I’m talking about. That had to hurt. I exhaled cherry coke out of my nose I laughed so hard. Perhaps I have no empathy. Carrying on…

What makes this film work? What elements made it an utter hypnotic cash cow for James Cameron? It’s a tragic love story with pretty dresses and Leo DiCaprio. That’s all ladies need. Still, there are elements that seem so oddly placed, I can’t get past them.

1. Casting

Let me first begin with Leonardo DiCaprio and  Kate Winslet. For starters, Leo may not have been the best choice for the hero. He weighed all of 100  pounds in 1997 and he still has a head the size of a watermelon. Put him next to Kate Winslet and he looks like a 15 year old boy lusting after his teacher–even if Kate was all of 22 when she made the film. Let’s face it–she was a voluptuous gal. I don’t know if Leo’s character (Jack for the idiots) could handle all that lovin’.

Ew.

Ew.

Then there was Billy Zane. What the hell is up with him and scary boat movies? If you’ve seen Dead Calm, you know what I’m talking about. And–is he wearing eyeliner? Is that a toupe? Jesus he gives me the creeps. I will give him this: Great villain. He does scare me. Still, if he bought me The Heart of the Ocean, I would marry him and then have numerous affairs. I like sparkly things. Just sayin’…

2. Theme Song

Did anyone else want to strangle the Irish girl ahhhing in the background the entire effing movie? Maybe that was just me…

Why does she hit herself?

Why does she hit herself?

Enter Celine Dion. Sure, she was a star in her own right by then–but Titanic allowed her to take off to megastardom. My Heart Will Go On was an enormous success. I sang the shit out of that song my junior year in high school. Every woman on the planet was singing and beating the crap out of their chest, trying to imitate her. She seriously needs to eat. I want to force-feed her a pizza or just a simple sandwich.

Thanks Titanic. Thank you for that Canadian stick figure that married her Dad…uh I mean, manager.

3. Love Story

I don’t know if I buy it. There. I said it.

4. Obvious and Blatant Comparison of Rich and Poor

Rich people have no soul. Poor people love to dance and feel alive. Fuck rich people.

5. Death Scene(s)

Some scenes that were meant to be horrible ended up being heeelarious.

  • Fabrizio (Jack’s buddy) getting hit and killed by the smokestack. Awesome.
  • The Propeller Guy–already discussed.
  • Move over fatty!

    Move over fatty!

    Jack Dawson- The hero of our story. He and Kate make it. They are in the water, waiting for rescue. They find a large board to rest on. For some reason, that bitch doesn’t share any space. At all. And so Jack freezes to death. ‘Thank you poor boy that drew me naked and had sex with me–thank you for dying and letting me sleep on the floating board. I didn’t know that you wanted to share. Ooopps. My bad. Now, let me pry your frozen, dead hand from mine and watch you sink to the bottom of the ocean. Never Let Go Jack! Yeah, thanks.’

  • Old Lady Rose- Who in the hell throws away a multi-million dollar shiny thing? Dude. At least hand it off to your granddaughter you B. Then you can die.

That’s all I have for now. I get it– women loved this movie. Love story with a tragic ending, yada yada yada. A tragic ending that you knew would happen because we ALL knew that the boat sank. Cause the boat sinking actually happened. In 1912. It’s History. You all know that, right?

I liked it when I saw it.

I was 16.

If it’s still on your Facebook fav movies list– I question your maturity and taste. By the way– James Cameron? You are a total Douchebag.

I still don’t forgive you.

#25: Justin Timberlake

JTHe brought Sexy back.

He can sing, dance, write, act and improv on SNL.

He is Justin Timberlake.

Women adore him, men want to be him. He is the shit. What woman on this planet doesn’t have a tiny little crush on this man? What man doesn’t envy the fact that he is banging Jessica Biel? Bootylicious indeed. The man is like a tiny, Southern, adorable Golden God with a mean falsetto.

Justin Timberlake took what women loved about ‘Boy Bands’ and actually survived their inevitable demise in 2000. JT was a prominent member of the Boy Band 2.0’s. You know…The Backstreet Boys, 98 Degrees and N’Sync (Note: Boy band 1.0’s include NKOTB and Take That).

How did JT survive and come out on top when his bandmates didn’t fare so well? Setting aside the talent question, Mr. Timberlake reinvented himself.

justifiedFirst Phase: Justified A.K.A. F-U Britney Spears

He shaved off his cute, curly locks from his N’Sync years. I admit, I shed a few tears over this, but when he emerged with the short crop and the man-stubble, I fell in love with him all over again. Then Justified came out. Ladies, you remember. “Cry Me a River”?

Hooker.

That was the big F-off to the Princess of Pop and his cheating ex-girlfriend, Miss Brit Brit. Women wanted to comfort him and kill her in the same breath. Skank. Men still saluted him for tapping that before she got fat and crazy. All in all… a great start.

Second Phase: Super Bowl Sexiness

Get some.

Get some.

Justin performed at the Super Bowl. With Miss Janet. Awesome. Although halftime shows usually blow, I watched this one. About the time I got up to grab another beer and lament yet another championship for the Patriots, Janet’s booby flopped out–and Justin was the one who exposed it. It was kinda hot. I called it Titty-Gate. I’m sure there is another connotation for this event that is cleaner– but if given the choice between classy and funny, I go for humor.
You know you’re laughing.

Anyhoo, this ‘wardrobe malfunction’ was just more excuse to talk about the sexiness that was and is JT.

Step 1...

Step 1...

Third Phase: Timberlake the Actor

Like all singers, JT soon got the acting bug. The thing is, he was kind of good. Black Snake Moan was interesting. Alpha Dog had some potential. And then he did SNL in December of 2006. That was when we were all witness to the brilliance that was and still is Dick in a Box. If you have never seen said short, click here.

Oh yeah. He has gone on to do several spoofs with Andy Samberg and the cast of SNL including my personal fav, Motherlover. Geniuses.

The Trifecta of 2006-2007

The Trifecta of 2006-2007

Phase 4: Future Sex/Love Sounds–Cameron Diaz

He brought Sexy back. Women didn’t even know it was gone until we saw him strut into that club on his music video. And damn– did he bring it back! He had everyone on this album. Snoop Dog, will.i.am, and Three 6 Mafia all participated. It was amazing.

Thank you Timbaland. Thank you for working with JT and helping to nurture his true sexiness. I would thank Nelly Furtado too, but she kinda sucks.

Not only did he put an album out there that kicked ass (I still listen to it),  he did the world tour AND the HBO special. On top of that, JT started dating Cameron Diaz. Sexiness abounds.

Phase 5: Fashion, Food, Collaboration and Biel

In one short period, JT soon became a fashion icon. Hats, Skinny suits and Chucks. Delicious. He opened a few restaurants. Namely, “Southern Hospitality” in New York. He can scoop up some southern hospitality on me any damn time. JT also started collaborating. Whether is was on SNL or with Madonna, dude was everywhere. Women rejoiced.

Dayyyamn. Not fair.

Dayyyamn. Not fair.

And then there was Biel. Jessica Biel.

The ultimate woman. Tall, lean and gorgeous– she has the body of a goddess. They are beautiful together. Her ass is amazing. I mean, I want to squeeze it. I have to say that.

Justin Timberlake ladies and gentlemen. Women love this dude. I honestly don’t think that men can argue with this one. They kinda have man-crushes on him. Look at what he has! If anything, he took Brit’s virginity and has slept with Cameron Diaz and Jessica Biel. Pimp.

One final rumination– JT, I think you should do another Music Video with Andy. Instead of the Color Me Bad vibe, go for the actual Boy Band feel. Maybe get in a fight with Nick Lachey?

Just sayin’…