Why I Might Not Hate Angelina Anymore

I used to have a serious vendetta against Angelina Jolie. (And I hesitate to use the past tense there because I'm pretty sure I'm still not sold on her.) But then I read this Esquire article (that I highly recommend you read before going any further, as otherwise I think you'll just be lost, because I'm too lazy to even try to summarize it for you), and it kind of changed my life. Not really. But, it did make me kinda, maybe, sort of like Angelina (a little bit).

Read it? OK.

Besides the relatively awkward and uncomfortable fawning the author does over her "moistness" (eeek...), the whole thing was really, really interesting. And well written, and refreshing. And really, the fact that she did that whole thing with the Asian tigers and the Asian Elephants (and the subsequent creation of the "largest elephant migration area in Asia"), and the Asian Millenium Village (which includes ten villages, 6,000 people, and 72 employees), all of which is directly paid for by Angelina and Brad, well, that stuff was pretty awesome.

Whew. Who knew? (Probably the bajillion people that actually read, or read about, this article back in July when it was published...)

In any case, I might have to retire my Team Aniston shirt. But don't worry, I won't be picking up any Team Jolie shirts (or any other Team shirts for that matter; I'm notoriously non-competitive. Unless we're playing Monopoly, or Connect Four, or Taboo, or any other board game really, but that's a whole other blog post.), because what I'm trying to say here, is that while I don't officially love her yet, I don't hate her any more.

And to boot, my whole "OMG, I, LIKE, TOTALLY HEART AJ NOW" moment was a little bit tempered by this Slate writer who apparently hated the article, [and probably hates Angelina, though to be fair, I did (do?) too.]

So, there.

Oh, and thanks to Jezebel for opening my eyes to this whole thing, and also writing about it in a far more original and coherent and interesting way.

I'm out.

Question:

Am I the last person on the face of the earth to realize that Razorlight is kind of awesome?

I'm In Desperate Need of Your Help (And Approval)

I've got news, people. BIG. NEWS.

I now have my own HuffPo Style column (a bi-monthly / every-other-week / whichever-one-sounds-more-frequent occurence), which, in my humble opinion, is quite shocking considering the Holy War I managed to start over this dude. (And no, it's not who you think it is! I told you: No More C-Man Posts.)

But, dear readers (and haters, and anona-commenters), I need your help in deciding the title of my column. So, send me your ideas, and in the meantime I'll pretend to do some brainstorming on my own, and to round it all out, I'll narrow it down and have a reader poll to decide what title wins. Kapish? Kapish.

Congratulations, me! Congratulations.

Also - feel free to throw out ideas for posts as well. I'm feeling pretty lazy.

Adios.

Say Hello To My Little Friend

Psst! I've figured out the secret to blogger fame:

Write about Constantine Maroulis.

But, since I have not had any more C-Man encounters, nor do I have any (apparently) recent photos, and, more importantly, I have neither enough admiration nor disdain for the man himself to warrant another post, I have dedicated this one to my favorite OTHER greek: Peter K. I'm not giving you his last name, but trust me, it's Greeker than yogurt and goats and My Big Fat Greek Wedding all rolled in one.

Also: He's cuter than C-Man, and a way better singer.

Peter loves Pete Wentz and hearts Ashlee, but only slightly less than he loves his BlackBerry Pearl. He's the hippest 'ster to have graced the streets of Chicago, and can bounce you past a line at Debonaire faster than you can say "Who? Me?". He gives great hugs, drives a Volvo with no A/C, and is true Hollywood royalty. On a more related note, he's also a fan of the Guest-Blogging genre, which is the point of this post, as I will be hopping on board with an appearance on his blog, Peter's Second Thought.

But most importantly, and less relevant to anyone who's not me, he's coming to visit soon! And then he will be mine! All mine!


This is Peter.

And this is Love.

I Spy, Part Deux:

UPDATE: And finally! The piece de resistance!

Constantine Maroulis, with a mystery blond, in line at the Pinkberry knockoff on 30th and 3rd. (Yes, Murray Hill. Rub it in, why don't you?)

Note: I have two fantastic and, more importantly, hilarious photos to post in here, but since Blogger has decided to call it a night (unlike the rest of us) and give me error messages like they're going out of style, the photos will have to wait. (Ugh. I can feel the comedic value decreasing exponentially as I type this. Although, some might argue that there wasn't that much to begin with. And those "some" might be blind. Have you seen the guy? Comedy gold, my friends, com-ed-y gold.)

UPDATE: Below: My raison d'etre. Am I laughing at him? I'll never tell.

I Spy:

Stacy's Mom / Rachel Hunter at the Gramercy Park Hotel. With fab hair.

...

And yes, I am aware that isn't exactly a photo of "Stacy's Mom", but she is wearing a red dress, no?