I started the year as I always do, with the Year In Film Awards. I mused about which actors were The Most Unwatchable. I kept my ears to the Celebritard ground and heard Things Overheard on the Golden Globes Red Carpet. My numbero uno celebrity crush broke my mighty heart by getting herself knocked up (and by a grody civilian no less!). I considered the things other Celebrities Are Considering. I gave my reactions to the Oscar nominations. Jamie Foxx and I considered the Mysteries Of Life. I jotted down my Most Anticipated Movies of the year (and boy was I wrong about Numbers 15, 12, 4 and 1. Yikes, Sorkin, please go back to TV and let Tom and Julia embarrass themselves on their own.). I acknowledged a Mitzvah for Eddie Murphy. Good old consistently batshit crazy Anne Heche, the one constant in my life. I am wowed by the many inexplicable practices of nutball celebrities. And I shook my head at the possibility that uber-talented actress and current The Next, Rachel McAdams and oddly-dressed pop icon and ska-punk genre abandoner Gwen Stefani may in fact be separated at birth.
I told the world what I thought about Sarah Silverman. I mused on the first trailer of Phantom Menace-level awesomeness that is the possibility that Robin Sparkles was going to be Wonder Woman. I finally catalogued all the signs to tell that you are watching a Bad Nicolas Cage Movie. I made the revelation that the Small Wonder is kind of a slut. I did triple Sachows of joy in my head because Captain N was coming. Young adolescents in need of hot tween stars yelped for locked door joy when we found out that Hilary Duff had returned to Hottie stature. I dropped my early American Idol favs and was rewarded by my homegirl Melinda D making the Top 3 and Sanjaya becoming a crazy-haired phenomenon. There were more than 23 reasons not to see The Number 23, but I like a good cliche as much as the next online humor writer. I liveblogged the cheesy wondermints of The O.C. series finale. My ears were burning at both the Oscars and the Razzies. And I was thankful that the Die Hard 4 poster didn’t completely suck Sharon Stone balls (I even came around to the totes lame title.).
I uncovered what goes on at a Vanity Fair Cover Meeting. I interviewed Billy Zabka. ZABKA!!! I researched the worst crimes perpetrated on movie franchises by kids. There were many. I told you all about the pop culture statements I hold to be true. For all those looking to get in shape and get famous I designed a 300-style Workout for Celebritards. The Mii Lebowski is the best Wii movie adaptation in the history of Wii movie adaptations. I interviewed the winner of Helltrack, Mr. Cru Jones! After much deliberation I finally figured out why William Shatner kicks so much ass. Despite my beautiful words, this is not how the average night at UCSB goes. There are MUCH more well-choreographed light saber fights. And I wondered about the possibilities of what Harry might be holding on the cover of Book 7 (turns out it was a big bowl of kick ass flakes!)
I gave you just one of the 4,365 reasons why I miss Arrested Development. Here’s how the lives of some classic video game characters went after they beat their games. A movie poster tribute to the bald badass of action movies, Mr. Bruce Willis. Celebrities deduct the weirdest things on their tax forms. You’ll never guess what the best movie to watch on 4/20 actually is (HINT: It does not involve Dave Chapelle.). And I asked some questions about Messirs Corey Haim and Feldman.
I gave The CW eights kinds of shit for canceling Veronica Mars. I marveled at the ease of which Peter Jackson could command a budget the size of a small country’s GDP for his little inter-personal drama. I mean, really, was there ever any wonder that we’d eventually see Lindsay Lohan’s nipples? I still haven’t decided which format to go with, and I don’t plan to any time soon. I live-blogged the bloated but supes-sweet season finale of American Idol. And here’s a recap of my coverage of Star Wars Celebration IV.
With Paris and Lindsay down for the count, the paparazzi had a lot of time on their hands. Me and a cavalcade of celebs heap well wishes on Julia Roberts are her new kid. And I posted my well-loved piece about my time as a Movie Line Waiter.
I gave a 21 shots of Patron salute of the hottest pre-approved hot redhead tween star who inexplicably became the Queen of celebritards and ruined her chances of a legendary career, in the history of US Weekly. Peep the site on the iPhone! There are some good excuses for Britney’s umbrella attack. These are not those excuses. i considered what types of things celebrities would transform into, if they had those powers. I upchucked part of my childhood after seeing the grosstasstically awful Alvin and the Chipmunks movie poster (I can’t believe sane people are telling me it’s a cute movie. I want to El Kabong myself in the frontal lobe). I make the Best! Simpsons Avatar! Ever! I, and only I, uncovered the REAL reason Mandy Patinkin left Criminal Minds. Snape. Snape. Severus Snape. DUMBLEDORE! On that note, what Harry Potter meant and means to The Jay. TomKat gets their groove on, I get my hurl on. And I vow never to write about the Lost Girls ever again. And I have kept my promise so far…
I rule against reviving canceled TV shows (unless it’s Veronica Mars). I drop a review bomb on Dane Cook’s wildly unfunny Good Luck Chuck movie poster, and guess what? He gets an F-. I clued the world onto the most important pop culture dates of the Fall. As much as I try to help, seriously, Keanu Reeves is just NOT helping matters. I filed a rushed, insensitive (though funny) report on the ailing health of The Butterscotch Stallion and later regretted it. Steven Seagal is hilariously delusional. True Story. I am McLovin. A sardonic Irish pop star who blasts celebritards online. I revealed just what really happened on Quentin Tarantino’s infamous Trans-Atlantic flight (and consequently befriended renowned screen nymph Tiffany Limos in the process. Hey, Tiff!). And I noted something the world already knew: that KT Tunstall is a cleva girl.
Why do the Celebritards make it so easy to roundhouse kick them in their constructed faces? I offered Halle Berry some potential names for her new baby. My faves were Hit N Run Berry and David Justice Sucks Berry. I honored 9/11 the only way I know how, by lambasting celebs. Pwned, terrorists! On TheJay.com’s two year anniversary I outlined 21 Ways To Build A Better Pop Culture Blog. You know what helps make a crappy Emmy telecast better? Pictures of Kristen Bell touching Hayden Panetierre. I got my journo on when I chronicled the dubious box office achievement of Evan Almighty. Mel Gibson wishes everyone a joyous Yom Kippur. Unless you are Jewish. Then he wants you to go start another war and run Hollywood and have hook-noses. And I laid the scene down of the DUI arrest of Kiefer Sutherland.
Were you aware than Benicio Del Toro likes to look pretty. I dropped my official Fall TV Schedule and Gossip Girl and FNL were the tits of the crop. I checked in on how Renee’s BitchFace recovery was coming along and was distressed by her regression. There might not be anything more we can do except to just ease her pain. I considered the box office potential of The Bucket List based solely on it’s poster. As it turns out, I was dead wrong. The movie blows and it’s tanking at the box office. I guess Rob Reiner is a bigger detraction that I thought. And a Happy Halloween from The Jay!
Were you aware that I run the Greatest Pop Culture Site Alive! Britney unleashed the most genius celebrity motto EVA! Ben Affleck Is NOT A Tool, And I Can Prove It. I drilled into the braincase of Mrs. Tom Cruise and relayed just what the one time Joey Potter was thinking as she bralessly attempted to escape captivity by running the NYC Marathon. The inevitable, but no less important, Strike post. As a favor to me, please, Support Reggie. Why does Stallone think his varnished Mahogany-bodied Reagan-era bringer of stunt-coordinated death is worthy of being compared to an ACTUAL historical icon? Take a note: He’s FABIO, bitch! I offered some runner-up excuses for all the less-attractive dude actors who lost the race for People’s Sexiest Man Alive Award to the pig-nosed Matt Damon. Ten “That’s What Se Said” Jokes about the Get Smart poster. Like I did for the third year in a row, I detailed your movie choices on Turkey Day. A photoshopped salutation from The Jay on Thanksgiving. I wondered just what in the hell is giving Keira Knightley a LemonFace. And I had some fun with the Disneyland Sign. Spoiler Alert: Tonight At The Pit, Everyone Gets Laid!
There are so SO MANY things I’d rather do than go see P.S. I Love You. What kind of geek are you? I am many. In honor of the release of National Treasure: Book of Secrets, I give you even MORE signs that you’re watching a bad Nicolas Cage movie. The op-ed Jericho’s out of me when discussing the Anti-God controversy surrounding The Golden Compass. When dealing with the coming together of Veronica Mars and Summer Roberts you have to re-calibrate the cuteness scale. Because G-damn, that is the cutest picture of two cute actresses taking a cute picture of two cute actresses being cute. Ten Burning Questions About Lost Season Four. As a cheap-ass way to throw some Holiday love at my peeps, I pimped everyone’s wares. I swear to jeebus I will stab the next asshalf in the thorax who whips their Blackberry out in a movie theater. I wish a muy Happy 61st Birthday to the bearded master, Steven Spielberg. And also to his low-costing mexican substitute, Steven Spielbergo. And finally, I gave you my goals for 200JAY8, The Year of the Jay.
Now let’s get 200JAY8 on!