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Bridesmaids: movie review

July 3, 2011 4 comments

Funniest movie of the year?

Bridesmaids was a great movie; unexpectedly so. I was anticipating Hollywood same-same, but what I saw was a more mature (and simultaneously, immature) group of fantastic comedy actors blitz a script and win over a cinema full of women. I counted only seven men in the audience. The humour was face-splittingly good (although, I would issue a warning about course language and crunchy blankets… Don’t take your son with you to see it. Might be awkward.)

So, what do you do when your life is falling apart, romantic relationships seem hopeless and your best friend gets engaged and asks you to be maid of honour? What happens when you’re thrust onto a bridal party of people you don’t know, who seem alarmingly weird (the bride’s future sister-in-law), competitive in a sociopathic way (the bride’s other, newer bestie) and are otherwise wrongly-wired in a more harmless way? Well?┬áRose Byrne, Melissa McCarthy, Wendi McLendon-Covey and Ellie Kemper made for the funniest bridal party.

I, for one, have been on such a bridal party (although, they weren’t intentionally funny). I’d bonded to the best of my abilities with people I’d never otherwise come across in life, through strip shows and arguments over dresses, heels, hair and makeup. The movie allowed me to laugh about it, in retrospect. Call it therapy. Every girl should go through it. It’s character building.

Annie (Kirsten Wiig), is asked to be Lillian’s (Maya Rudolph) maid of honour. Annie is stuck in a sex-with-no-strings-attached relationship and is privately devastated that her best friend is getting married. However, she does her best to be supportive. Unfortunately, everything she does goes horribly, horribly wrong. Some scenes are dry-wretchingly reminiscent of American┬áPie. Everything the new, other best friend does, trumps poor Annie’s thrifty and well-intentioned attempts.

Being Hollywood, there is a happy ending. Go see it with your best girls.

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Categories: Life, Love, Movies, Review, Sex, Uncategorized

An uplifting corporate uniform

February 13, 2011 4 comments

Something on the grinding, awful bus trip from work on Friday made me smile, so I simply had to share it (at great risk to myself, I might add).

It was at my eye level, as I’d scored a seat, so it’s not like I was looking for mischief… Anyhow, take a look at this uplifting corporate uniform and note which way the little plane is pointing on the belt buckle.

A perky, corporate belt buckle for a travel agent (Flight Centre)

Now, think what message it might send should the little plane be pointing down.

Assuming we both keep catching the same bus, I shall be avoiding eye contact with this man all year.

Have a great day!

Curly Question: Explain this to a nine year old girl

September 10, 2010 2 comments

Here’s a curly question for your Friday cup of coffee…. How do you explain this advertisement to nine and six year old girls, who happen to pick it up in the mailbox? It was the back cover of a new free mag distributed around Brisbane last week, called Brisbane’s River Wrap Magazine.

Arty, but too much?

The female actor has purple bruises on her face and upper body, suggesting strangulation… The man looks like he forgot to attend a few rehab appointments and didn’t make the cut for MasterChef – or is he advertising kitchen knives? (“Look Mummy, he has the same knife as you…” Hmmm). Or, could this be the cover of the new Spring-Summer catalogue for Relationships Australia?

Sex with knives doesn’t belong on the back cover of a free family magazine. We didn’t ask for it to be in our letterbox.

Thank you so much, Brisbane City Council and the Queensland Government for putting funding towards this – maybe you could have some guidelines on how grants-funded projects use the money in appropriate promotions? Just sayin’.

Sex, Drugs and Golf?

August 3, 2010 Leave a comment

I have a confession to make.

I’ve never understood the pull-power of golf. Now, thanks to Mark Gimenez’s latest legal thriller, I’ll be checking out at least 60 seconds of the next major tournament on the telly. Any more than 60 seconds will put me into a catatonic state, but curiosity has got the better of me, so I’m willing to risk it.

I’d always wondered how women like Tiger’s ex (which one?? I know, I know) could feign interest in watching blokes hit a ball across a paddock day in, day out, and now I know … money and lots of it. And where there’s money, there’s sex and lots of it. And then there’s the drugs – which I assume help with all kinds of faking interest, so to speak.

Apparently, according to this nifty little read, tv cameramen have to be careful to avoid crotch shots at all the tournaments because the golf groupies forget to wear undies, and specifically sit in ways that invite closer examination.

I’d thought that golf had strict dress standards (but maybe that’s just for the players). Imagine security asking the ladies on entry, “‘scuse me Mam, proof of knickers required …” But that’s why they’re called the 2-piece brigade – they only wear 2 pieces of clothing – a tiny top and a shorty-short, short skirt.

Enjoy Gimenez’s latest offering. Meanwhile, I’m off to find the sports channel.

Categories: Books, Life, Sex, Social Commentary