Thursday, September 22, 2005

celebrities disappoint me.

don't get me wrong, i love celebrities as much as the next person who doesn't have a life of their own. but sometimes they really disappoint me.

take Zach Braff. this post was going to be about how great scrubs is (an opinion that is all the more surprising given my intense over-exposure to it in the last three days). a new housemate has entered my tiny village world, and he brought dvds of the first two series and, more importantly, a massive collection of trivia: did you know that when Elliot and JD bungee jump, Sarah Chalke wanted to do it, but Zach Braff refused? that the two stunt people they brought in to do it fell in love and married?

but i digress. Zach Braff has disappointed me. And as pointed out by one J Clarkson in his magnum opus Born To Be Riled, that is the worst insult of all, its use usually reserved for mothers and headteachers.

how has he done this? by dating Mandy Moore. Yes, that Mandy Moore, of the cute Bambi eyes and the sub-Jessica Simpson warbling. (Also, I am irrationally annoyed that she is younger than me. Celebrities should not be younger than me, it makes me feel bad.) Then I discover that Braff has form: he's also been dating Natalie Portman, and no, the fact that she is fantastically attractive and shockingly intelligent does not make it better.

Zach Braff is funny, talented and 30. Why is he dating these mainstream twentysomething beauties? He should be going out with pale but interesting indie film makers and the like - not such a bland human being, a 'beige' person.

I want my celebrities to do things properly, dammit. The craft of being unpredictable, outrageous and downright stupidly reckless has gone, with only a few brave souls such as Elton John, Kate Moss and Jordan to carry the flag.

Take Jordan's wedding, to which I say: good on her. I could have a tasteful, restrained, minimalist wedding with 20 guests. I'd never have the balls (or the money) to wear a giant pink frou-frou affair and get my intended into stingray skin shoes.

Or Elton John's party, where naked skydivers sailed in. Or Queen's notorious alleged use of dwarfs bearing trays of cocaine on their heads at backstage parties. Or troubled coke-snorting supermodel Kate, having it away with all her fantastically attractive friends in a haze of champagne and cigarettes.

I can't do any of those things; I'm destined to spend my life in front of a computer, writing poor puns and wondering what would have happened if I'd finished writing that novel. I'd get sacked if I celebrated a good day at work with a drug-fuelled binge. None of my friends are models, or will sleep with me.

So celebrities of the world, I plead: stop buying houses in the country, and telling us how normal you are, and how you like nothing more than a cup of tea and a sit down. Get out there, get wrecked, and have the decency to earn your money by giving me some entertainment.

1 Comments:

Blogger Butterfly Jones said...

Mandy 'Feckin' Moore! It's a crying shame.

9/25/2005 2:08 am  

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