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Monthly Archives: November 2012

FrankenWrap

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An unashamedly celeb-focused wrap this weekend. Still guaranteed to furnish you with insights and wisdoms, but unlikely to impress fellow luncheon- and soiree-goers into the breeding patterns of Beluga whales, quantum physics or Kant. Do your best.

Do you think Anna W would recoil from this decor? Thought she hated black. Maybe monochrome’s OK if it’s six stars.

Sandy Shunts Manhattan’s Shiniest to Top Hotels. Hmm, all not sounding too bad to La. Marc J, Anna W, Carine Roit etc have popped their plastic across the mahogony front desk of the Mark — a gaff La’s always dreamed of staying in. (Come on Seriousimo, get your act together, facilitate a debt-for-equity swap a la Nine Entertainment, and discover something called hotels.com.) Know there was much devastation and some loss of life, but fluffy towels at the Mark? It’s what I’d be doing if all goods, chattels and loved ones were in order I needed to charge my Triv Mobile Media Control Console and enjoy a cuppa slash cocktail.

INFphoto.com, via MailOnline

MillAsh Visit The Harbour City; Few Care. OMG, are they here? Sorry, La was too busy inspecting los t-zone pores to notice. This perpetual male kidult has always annoyed me; there’s no place in my world for men over the age of 11 who wear peaked caps backwards. And La srsly doubts he would do better than a straggly ‘tache. And los thoughts on Milla are well-known: having a moment with the Dior campaign, and triumphed as a ladyloving swan. However, wonder how she’ll feel in 2033 when she’s on the cusp of 50 and the gorgeous, talented and youthful Apple Martin, fresh off a world-beating cinematic turn as the wheelchair-bound winner of a vocal talent show, sidles up and pinches her kidult man.

“Her and that director? I thought it was hilarious..!”

All Is Forgvien for RPatz and KStew. La’s always had a cougar-sized soft spot for this fella. Handsome, brooding, and with fabulous hair, he seems to be a cut above the average dumb-as-a-box-of-hair teen pin-up. And this minx? Well, she strayed but paid. That global glare — not to mention the bile she copped from the world’s Twi-Hards — must have been tough to take at 23. Looks like nothing unites a couple quite like the impending propsect of a global blockbuster publicity tour.

Photo by Dave Benett, via MailOnline

Sophie and Jamie Prove Height Mismatch No Barrier To Growing Family.  Love these two. He’s scarily talented, she seems to be too, and outrageously beautiful. Love how the two of them together kind of reminds La of that bit in Sex and the City where Samantha dated the bloke who bought his clothes from the boys’ department in Bloomingdale’s. They’re having their second loin fruit. See, who needs to know about intifadas?

Princess Charlene And Prince Albert Pose Looking As Awkward As Ever. What do we think is going on here? Do we think Princess Char has come to terms with her 27 step-children to 27 different baby mamas dotted about Europe? They always look very uncomfy, these two, as if posing together is yet another step in delivering on some kind of pact. One smile and one click closer to being where — and with whom — they want to be. In a former life, La met Alberto in Lausanne, while I was on some undercover IOC corruption business. He was really very charming. And, during another covert operation, Seriousimo and I passed a blisteringly expensive weekend in Monte Carlo. OMG, that place is surreal. Can see why it sends people a bit la-la.

So — no Kant, and only a passing reference to the intifada. But hopefully you’ve gleaned something that will help you capture the attention of the cognoscenti this weekend.

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Ca-tache-trophe

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Ladies, it’s that time of year again. La time when our aesthetic senses — and sometimes, sadly, even our physical ones — will be assualted by small hairs protruding from the top lips of men we know, and occasionally, men we love.

Yep — Movember. That ghastly invention of a cluster of well-intentioned male health charities, jealous of the wallet-conquering power of pink ribbons. An event created with all good thoughts of funding a cure for cancer, and no good thoughts whatsoever about ladies’ visual pleasure.

Sure, Clarky Gable owned the mo’.

…as did Dennis Lillee, and Matthew Le Nevez as Dennis Lillee.

And, of course, Newk rocked a mo’ like no-one before or since.

Tom Selleck was lucky enough to have one that accentuated his dimples.

And there’s only one man-of-a-certain-age who’s looked better with a salt-and-pepper ‘tache than Sean Connery…

…and that’s Il Pappa Trivialista, channeling his inner Bond on a Yuletide visit to Oxford Street.

But…does the world really need this?

Or this, I ask you?  (As does his mo’.)

As aesthetically offensive as these last two are, it’s the fellas who struggle to grow two hairs to rub together for whom La feels the greatest sympathy. Like…

…Olly Bloom. I know he’s married to everyone’s favourite alien-eyed, fecund breastfeeder extraordinaire (no, srsly, I think MK’s great — if only I could achieve that amount of distance between los boobs and la navel — v jaloux), but am I the only one who’s ever suspected Il Bloomster’s a little — ahem — weak-chinned and straggle-tached?

And that’s being charitable.

Speaking of charitable, better dash — la inbox is threatening to buckle under the weight of requests for dosh from hordes of fuzz-lipped Wordporium men. So how will I apportion los charity spondoolies this mo’ season, I hear you ask?

I’ll tell you how: on a cost-per-hair basis, and only to growths that La deems to be an improvement on the greenfield sites that were.

Suspect there won’t be a pressing need for a capital raising.

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