There are certain things I need to bring to your attention.

Beyonce is a god.
Not even a goddess because she defies all boundaries.
Repeat Beyonce is a god.

I often find myself talking about Beyonce. In particular I try to preach about Beyonce to non-fans, because lets face it EVERYONE should appreciate B. I have this conversation with my friends “who hate the mainstream” and can be found sulking in corners listening to something FAR LESS appealing than Beyonce. And my fight always remains, even if you do not like her as a person or as an artist you have to admit that she is one of the most talented females in the world.

And how did the title of Queen of Pop go from Madonna to Britney to Lady Gaga? That’s a serious questions my peeps. How can Beyonce be passed up like that? If you look at Beyonce’s innovation and raw talent she blows everyone else out of the water. Specifically in this moment in time, the question of Beyonce vs Lady Gaga doesn’t even need to exist. There is no competition, they aren’t even in the same arena of talent in my opinion.

In the past month alone Beyonce has release three music videos. And they’ve all changed my life. Most recently she’s released a video for Party with our boi J.Cole.

Yes this has been a rant, but please enjoy the video.

And preach the gospel of Beyonce.

England’s Metronomy have been a cascade of different styles and members since their formation back in 1999.  Founding member Joseph Mount started everything on an outdated computer fashioning glitchy, electronic sounds that made up their first album (Pip Paine) into the tight indie pop quartet that they are now.

With their upcoming North American tour leading them into Toronto on October 26, 2011 at the Mod Club, I had the chance to speak with Joseph Mount over the phone during a heat wave in England about their latest and most successful album The English Riviera, being nominated for a Mercury Prize and the upcoming tour.

Pink Mafia: Tell me about English Rivera.  You’ve had a great response so far from fans & critics alike.  What was it like working on the album and creating the sound?

Joseph Mount, Metronomy: We were all really excited in putting this record together. We had different techniques that we wanted to use.  Frankly, we were all in a different environment (musically) than we were when we made the first album. But making English Rivera, we can really stand behind it and say we’ve made a record and music that we enjoy and not just a studio record.

Pink Mafia: You just released the music video for “Everything Goes My Way” from the album.  The video is very light and airy.  How did the treatment come about.

Joseph Mount:  Most directors assume we want something really clever to go along with our music.  Some kind of different expression of the song within the video.  We had just been on tour for awhile and we received the treatment from director Alexander Orlando Smith.  We noted in Alex’s treatment that while the concept was very simple, it also didn’t feature us that much and we really liked that. (laughs)  But we wanted our fans to at least get a feeling from it.

Pink Mafia: English Rivera was just recently nominated for a Mercury Prize alongside some big acts like Adele, PJ Harvey, Elbow, Katy B and Tinie Tempah.  How did it feel to be nominated and what has changed since the nomination?

Joseph Mount: You know, being nominated was strange and also interesting.  Once you’re nominated, record labels really get excited.  It brings new life to your album and people who didn’t once know who you were start to recognize you.  Plus, the Mercury Prize brought a lot of international exposure that has been really useful for us.

Pink Mafia:  You have a pretty extensive remix catalogue having done remixes for Goldfrapp, Gorillaz, CSS and Scissor Sisters (just to name a few).  Are there any remixes you’re working on currently or any artists you would like to work with in the future?

Joseph Mount: Well we just finished up the Lady Gaga – You & I remix.  I couldn’t say no to Lady Gaga.  Thinking about the legacy that that one remix could leave behind.  Someone else that I would really like to work with that I know others might be surprised with is Britney Spears.  I know she’s in the UK right now but of course, when she starts her tour, that’s when we leave for our tour.

Pink Mafia:  So tell me a little bit more about the upcoming tour.  What can people expect from the show?

Joseph Mount: Well, this will be our first time in North America so we’re hoping to really surprise our fans.  We don’t want to replicate the album.  We want to create something that isn’t perfect sounding but fans can walk away knowing that was the first time that sound was created.  We’re really excited about this tour.

To find out more about Metronomy, check out their website: http://www.metronomy.co.uk/

I knew I was in for a fun-filled night the first time I got a glimpse at side-boob. It did not come from Lady Gaga—though I can think of countless girls who are aiming to ape that bedazzled and be-spiked deep vee—but from the infinitesimally pint-sized fille d’amoure of similarly pint-sized Canadian heart-throb, the Biebs.

It kind of felt like catching my younger sister out in my favourite, Parkdale-combing, slutwalk outfit, with her sleazeball boyfriend totally trying to cop a feel. And it made me uncomfortable.

Unfortunately for ‘Canadian Music,’ (woe is it to everything good that’s happening musically at the moment if the MMVAs are to be representative of you!) this was just the first of many crimes against sartorial discretion. Let’s start from the bottom.

It seems that no matter how loudly I scream, the sick, sad world of cross-seasonal cross-ups continues to persist. While Biebs was trying to get an eyeful, I was trying to look away, as S.Go apparently lost the will to decide between white gogo booties and silver and gold sparkly, strappy disasters. What started out with an innocent one-shouldered dress turned into a horrific scroll-down fug as I realized that this girl will never outlive her fashion crimes.

Nevertheless, the show must go on. While we were (luckily) spared the tormet of gladiators and grecian sandals, the crimes against thighs continued. Ignoring Gaga’s “archived Versace” Lichtenstein-esque prize-collecting get-up, one of our own native-borne dared to brave Queen St’s red carpet in a dress shorn from a rooster.

The worst thing that managed to top my worst-of-the-worst-of-the-worst was the fact that Simple Plan (remember Simple Plan? Apparently they’re still a band and still making pop punk tunes for junior high dances) is so committed to outdoing themselves they tried to convince everyone they were important by showing up in this:

It’s so hideous I can’t even look at it.

A few general pointers can be gleaned from the events of the previous evening. If you’re a girl attending a party in Toronto—and are not S.Go or Dev and sporting a, hold on, wtf, white vest?—thou shalt abide by the following commandments:

• Thou shalt wear something white, sparkly, and thigh-grazing
• Failing that, thou shalt don all thy leather and pleather apparel
• If thou wearest not white nor leather, thou takest part in superfluous frills and ruffles
• If thou dost none of these, by decree, thou must grow thy pits and pubes a lovely mermaid hue

It’s so infrequently that my final thoughts regarding an evening of fashion exhibitionism find in favour of menswear. All around (mostly—Simple Plan are obviously excluded from any reckoning), the dudes showed up cleaned up: dapper suits, crisp lines, able to walk normally. Whether it was the coordinated three-pieces of Far East Movement, the slim-cut look of puke-worthy crooner Bruno Mars, or Beiber’s subtle homage to a television show that stopped airing before most of him and his fans were natal, suits were the name of the game. And I’m not complaining. (Mostly.)

The few douchebags that showed up in jeans and wrinkled button-downs deserve as little attention that we pay to the (unnattractive) Abercrombie adolescents on the subway. As in, maybe I’ll take a look in five years (when you’re close enough to legal to be able to operate an iron) but in the meantime, I’ll put up with the fact you exist without acknowledging your actual existence. To wit, Ian Somerhalder (who will perpetually, in my mind, be a poor-mans Chace Crawford).

All in all, this years MMVAs were a disappointing testament to how little Americans care about Canadians. Underneath all the pandering (“We’re going on a Canadian tour! We love Canada! Toronto is amazing!), the MMVAs this year appeared to be a warm-up run for the rest of the populist music and video awards that will come this summer. I don’t know about you, but I feel ripped off a little. No meat dress, no flaming Madonna bra, just proof that bush is back, in a mean, mean way.
At least we didn’t get Miley on a stripper pole again.

Ah, February. Beginning with the eternally pessimistic groundhog, rounding the bend with the world’s number one excuse to make you feel like a sad, single slob, and topping it all off with endlessly dreary puddles of grey-brown slush. If it weren’t for awards season (which, admittedly, I can never be bothered to watch, but which always results in a flurry of internet activity on Monday morning to see what everyone wore—seriously, Gaga, an egg-womb-vessel?) and the various fashion weeks, it would be intolerable.

Not that fashion week, ipso facto, doesn’t pursue its own logic of melancholy. Fashion is a fickle thing. It works on its own internal clock of consumption, ensuring that just as we approach the hot heights of summer we start hating hangover tanks and flourescents, longing for wool coats and uber-rich reads and purples and greys; naturally, when winter’s at its most bitter, we’re teased with the ethereal, floating fabrics, crayon-box brights, backless dresses and strappy sandals that will be de rigeur this spring.

Peter Som Spring/Summer 2011

Even though I’m dreaming of when it will be warm enough to wear shorts that show that much thigh, I always retain a healthy dose of contempt for everyone who wears things that show that much thigh. So consider me befuddled when, lo and behold, I come across pages and pages of sheer white blouses, shorts, skirts (maxis, no less), jackets, everything. This is seriously some stupid joke, right? Surely no one in their right mind thinks that this is office appropriate:

Jason Wu S/S 2011

Just as I was trying to sort my head around the famously stupid idea of the sheer maxi-mini—in any colour—(seriously who the fuck came up with this?), everyone decides to go into over-production of this particular disaster in the most unforgiving and STUPID hue of stark white. What next, head-to-toe white macramé for spring?

Emilio Pucci S/S 2011

I always speak too soon.

I get it. Of all thousands of super stark eyesore colours that will be spewing their multicoloured vomit from the depths of your local F21, the number one (most overexposed) on-trend colour was white. In any iteration, preferably in clean cut or sheer varieties. Of course, leading the vanguard of pure white minimalism, Chloé, Céline and Calvin Klein come to the fore. We’ve all come to expect this. Calvin Klein has been sending down totally de-tinted looks since before time began; Chloé did a beautiful ballerina collection of ultra-femme frocks with strong bodices, bitty waists and full skirts in the typical be-nuded hues; and nary a non-white separate could be seen from Céline. These guys almost get a pass. White and minimal is what we’ve come to expect from this lot over the years, so it kind of sucks that everyone decided to up and ape their steez—regardless of how notoriously un-spill-proof said steez may be.

Calvin Klein S/S 2011

Chloé S/S 2011 (photos from the cherry blossom girl)

Céline S/S 2011

And while there were some great contenders (The Row sent a pared-down, minimalized collection with a simplified palette of whites, blacks, and blushes with a few simple maxi dresses that might float beautifully off the skin in the height of sticky season, and Dolce and Gabbana, certainly a far cry from minimal, sent some texturally magnificent and ultra-hot lace minis that I simply love), the vast majority of white looks were just inexcusable. To wit, we get the pajamas-trend (scroll down to number five—’The All-Day Pajama’—and go get fucked) as relaxed, easy, breezy, sheer, wide-legged, and alarmingly white. Obviously no one has been paying attention. Lose the jacket off of this look from Reed Krakoff and you essentially get what I wear to bed at night, when I wear things to bed at night. Aren’t sweat pants (oh, I’m sorry, ‘luxury lounge-erie’—cough-cough-barf) banned from ever seeing the light of day yet?

Reed Krakoff S/S 2011

Same goes for my man Michael Kors. Lots of his collection wasn’t as woefully under-fabric-ed, but when you send the luxe equivalent of sheer terry down the runway you essentially get haute bathrobes. Just because they’re wearing belts doesn’t make it real clothing.

Michael Kors S/S 2011

And please don’t get me started on something as terribly betokened as all-white ‘Futuristic Militaristic’ (thanks again Refinery 29):

I guess my lasting concern with white isn’t so much the oft-abused ‘don’t wear white after Labour Day’ dictum. As far as I’m concerned white is never the appropriate shade. Unless you’re the bride, in which case, it’s overused. I don’t understand the appeal of a look that’s guaranteed to make it blatantly obvious how much you’re sweating, that ends up smeared with about fifteen layers of orange fake-tan or super-dark ‘sun-kissed’ concealer, that you can’t wear anything under lest your knickers take front seat to your outerwear, that you better not wear out in the rain, and that you can’t get drunk in for fear of spilling shit all over yourself.

womp womp.

Then again, neither do I understand wanting to dress up like a shiro cream puff, or anything at all prairie-inspired. So maybe this whole all-white thing should be left to the professionals. I’d rather keep as far away from it as I have from my virginity.

I can’t say enough nice things about Lissie. She’s beautiful, sweet and incredibly humble for an individual chock-full of so much raw talent. She embodies auspiciousness and has been named the best and/or biggest (and most bad-ass?) breakout startof 2010 by countless sources. If you’veever heard one of her covers or caught one of her captivating live shows this comes as no surprise, but for those who haven’t heard the absolute gem that is Lissie, boy are you in for a treat! I caught up with Lissie at Bobbette & Belle before her sold-out show at the Opera House for some quality girl talk to discuss her YouTube covers, Hollywood friends and the wild year that was 2010.

Growing up in the Midwest before packing up and heading for the (Beverly) hills, she took with her just the right amount of no bullshit attitude that lends itself so complimentary to her brand of folk-rock: “I don’t want to do what I do baring in mind like how people will react or what they think.” It may have taken making waves across the pond before she was truly appreciated back on her home turf but since then it has been non-stop for Lissie and she deals with the accolades in strides: “its reassuring and its heartening. If something cool happens I’m like ‘yea!’ pat on the back and ‘this is awesome!’, but I don’t get too caught up. They are definitely all little milestones that show that I’m on the right path.”

The covers she has released may not have been intended to grab attention but they certainly served the purpose of giving her that extra push she needed to break into a more mainstream audience. They spread wide across the musical spectrum and include Lady Gaga, Lionel Ritchie and Metallica. “It started really with Metallica because ‘Nothing Else Matters’ was like one of my favourite songs in high school. I remember on New Years Eve like crying myself to sleep because the guy I liked made out with my best friend, and I just always loved that song and I love ‘The Black Album’.” Interestingly enough, since the songs were chosen out of likeness, they have allowed for an easy cross-over to her original material. A similar tactical approach has helped fellow singer/songwriter Ellie Goulding’s increased following and the two have even collaborated together on a few songs including Lissie’s “Everywhere I Go”.

Despite the howling requests at the Opera House Monday night for her Kid Cudi “Pursuit of Happiness” cover, she effortlessly proved she can hold her own with her songwriting chops. She has a very classic approach to making music; writing songs, strapping her guitar on her back and exhaustively touring. A true Stevie Nicks of our generation. While her songs may not all be boot clacking, foot-stompers or about shaking your ass in a club, she tackles issues that people deal with daily because as she points out, “why don’t we talk about the real things in life? Not to be a bummer, but like bring it up and be like its OK to talk about it. Things that are hard and a bit challenging or the way that we feel wounded or lost because everyone does.”

She has nothing but respect for her fellow artist, even if they approach performing a little differently. While she might not always agree with the means, she isn’t bothered one bit by other female artists tendency towards more eye-catching performances compared to her bare-bones approach as she insists she “couldn’t do that. Even if I tried to be like that, I would be so embarrassingly bad at it!” And on the topic of boob cannons and Katy Perry, Lissie boats “she’s smart and she has a sense a humor and she knows what she’s doing. She could probably sit down and write one of the best folk songs you’ve ever heard.”

She is finding fans and friends in all kinds of places including…Perez Hilton? Hardly the first name that comes to mind when thinking of notable music critics, but he certainly did right by her when he caught her SXSW set and flooded his blog with support for her. “He’s really nice. I mean I read his site and I know he’s mean to people sometimes, and he might be a little bit superficial but then you meet him and you’re like he’s really cool. He’s got a good thing going.” You can check out the interview/performance here.

Her debut album Catching A Tigeris out now. Here is the official video for “Everwhere I Go”:

Words by Kate Masewich
Photos by Katherine Alicia Snack

Should auld acquaintance be forgot… et cetera, et cetera. The dawning of a new year, my friends, means the possibility for turning over a new leaf, rectifying past ills, and relinquishing former wardrobe trangressions for a good many of us. 2010 was a pretty remarkable year. Fashion seems to have taken a profoundly reinvigorating gesture over the course of the last decade—moving from the leopard and hot-pink incrusted juvenalia of the early naughts to an extremely interesting and profoundly unexpected affectation for the bizarre, the tense, the uncomfortable, the wonderful, and the occasionally downright heinous. Whatever the case may be—from the onslaught of colourful, unconventional ‘young’ designers joining the ranks of Fashion Weeks in New York and Toronto, to the devastating passing-of-the-torch from the delightfully rebellious infant terrible Mcqueen to his sartorial forebears, to the swelling ranks of young bloggers who professed to be the unsolicited, un-bought new voice that would topple the teetering ivory towers of fashion publications (…yeah right!)—there’s been a hell of a lot of fantastic steps and missteps that I’ve culled, recovered, investigated, and presented for your consumption. Because surely I’m not the only one furiously flipped through twenty million tabs of blogs on Safari still trying to recover from my New Years hangover three days later…

If one thing can be said that will encapsulate the attitude of the style industry over the last year it can be summed up by outrageous. Fashion’s darlings (and demons—these epithets are mostly interchangeable!) have never ceased to shock and amaze, whether it’s ridiculously good or just ridiculous. So I’ve culled and selected for you some of the most outrageously over-the-top trends in the hopes that we can all, unanimously give these looks a not-so-fond farewell.

While the last year was an enormously popular year for leather and tweed and luxe textures, these were sometimes not enough. Hence, we all started walking around in 2010 looking like mutant ostrich/muppets:

Whether they were adorning our miniskirts or bulking up our bulky shoulder pads we succumbed, in some variation, to this fowl (see what I did there?) trend.  And it wasn’t the odd peacock feather adornment, it was shaggy, preposterous, all-over uses of our fine feathered friends that made this look so laughable. Whether looks like the above, that resemble the pelt of the love-child between Animal and Big Bird, or a more constrained incorporation like Lea Michele, where the colour, the cut, and the proportion on any other dress would be out of this world, there’s no way to rock a look that suggests your nether parts have had a nasty run-in with Rogaine…

But I guess there’s no competition between this and a look that actually was inspired by superfluous hair—behold, Lady Gaga:

Combine that with the infamous meat dress and it’s quite clear who takes the cake for bizarro, out-of-this-world looks. But there were loads of starlets and tartlets nipping at her notoriously pants-less heels. While no one can outtrash Ke$ha (it pains me to have to spell something using a dollar sign)…

…and we have her to thank for the spate of hipster headdresses (no matter how culturally insensitive nearly everyone with a brain thinks they are) luckily I haven’t seen many (read: any!) West Queen West-ers rocking body paint and feathers. Here’s to hoping that this one was washed away with the rain on New Years Eve. Instead, this year marked the year where we all decided to sift through our parents (and grandparents) old closets and wear the most ill-fitting and ill-adapted clothing:  the busted high-waisted daisy duke and the slouched and bunchy collared blouse, the hipster uniform of 2010:

Or, even better, all the above with the added benefit of a layered pair of tights. Because all we needed more of this scorching summer were sweaty crotches—

In excesses of the harder-textured variety, it’s impossible to write a review of the year’s trends without a nod (or a giant six foot sign) to this year’s obsessions with metallics in both fabrics and accessories. Combining attitudes of both ‘more is more’ with literal pounds of accessories…

or and ‘less is more’ with studded minis—presented for your disapproval the dress-qua-weapon—

it was all about taking cues from hair-metal leather looks—even if you happened to be a pop tartlet. So whether one dressed in something borrowed from Gene Simmon’s stage garb, or dressed in (I use the term loosely) something akin to a groupie’s walk-of-shame the next morning, it was all, horribly, somehow on trend. Of course, no one rocked the underwear as outerwear more appropriately than kinderwhore Taylor Momsen, who really made 2010 her year to shine… or something.

There was honestly nothing this prostitot did that didn’t garner a frenzy of commentary (Tim Gunn, you’re my boy!). From stripper heels (replete with tip slot) and garters, natty blonde extensions and an inability to remove her eyeliner for what seems like weeks on end, there’s only one thing this girl needs—everyone to stop paying attention to her, or, contrarily, a handler to start paying attention to her.

Alas, of course, she wasn’t the only one flashing her unmentionables (ignoring how intensely I want to never have cause to think of her unmentionables again). Her Gossip Girls costars, several years her senior and who ought to have known better, also decided to flirt with undressed disaster. Blake Lively (more aptly known by the monicker Boobs Legsly) trotted out in this runway look

only to have been outshone by the crazy of her castmate, Leighton Meister, who tragically managed to take one of my most beloved fabrics (lace), combine it with one of my most detested pieces (a jumpsuit) and thus wear both too much and too little simulatenously:

I guess the moral of the story is that at least Hollywood seems to now be familiar with lingerie, unlike the pantiless trend of a few years back. No one, I trust, is eager to repeat that.

As style is known for its penchant for extremes, while these girls were barely sheathing their lady parts, the other half of Hollywood seemed keen to pile on as much volume and fabric as possible. While Lindsay has an excuse here—you may recall her hilarious attempts to camouflage her alcohol monitoring anklet—that doesn’t explain the bizarre proportions that were strutting around everywhere.My hate-on for parachute pants is well known, but it bears reiteration. Looks like these prove you’ve got balls. Looks like these also suggest that you are deftly trying to hide your balls. In your pants. Somewhere. But that’s all in keeping with the gender-play that was happening all over the place—inspired, I’d like to think, by the late 2009 Purple shoot when Kaiser Karl shot model-darling Baptiste in drool-worthy stilettos:

but most deftly incorporated by the reams of women who pulled off the menswear trend so fantastically…

…a far cry from those that didn’t quite get the look off the ground…

Or, even worse, for the dude’s who didn’t even know it was possible for menswear to look good. Is the universe about sick of Ed Hardy? I thought we were done with this shit last year.

There are loads and loads and loads of other notable mishaps, but I’ve vowed not to start this year off too depressingly. Lessons learned, dear readers. It’s been a long year. With any luck, this one will be better, and we’ll have far less to regret.

Ever notice that some of the best work your favourite actors pulled out were in movies Juliette Lewis was in? Cape Fear (Robert De Niro-she was also nominated for best supporting for that one too), Kalifornia (Brad Pitt), Romeo Is Bleeding (duh, Gary Oldman’s best to date), What’s Eating Gilbert Grape (Leo), and of course, Natural Born Killers where she machine gunned and peyote’d her way into our hearts, dragging Woody Harrelson with her. We always knew she was a rockstar on the inside and when Lewis made the move from the screen to the stage, it seemed like a perfect fit. She’s in town this Sat at Lee’s Palace thanks to Union, and she was kind enough to take our 20Qs (below). If you are in need of tickets, click right HERE.

1. What is your dream of happiness?

Love. Sunshine. Water

2. Blonde or Brunette?

Blue

3. What is the quality you like most in a man?

Talent

4. What do you fear most?

Would never say it for fear it would manifest

5. 808s or 909s?

808s. Love that boom.

6. What’s your biggest regret?

That i didn’t stick with karate and piano as a kid.

7. What’s your fav bar or club in the world?

Anything where people are actually dancing.

8. What’s the one thing you can’t live without?

Vitamins.

9. What are the 3 musicians dead or alive you’d like to see perform?

James Brown. Nina Simone. Janis Joplin.

10. What is your favorite decade in music?

70s.

11. If you had to choose, would you rather go blind or deaf and why?

Don’t even want to consider it. But I do rely a great deal on “vibes” to intuit and perceive people and energies.

12. How old is too old?

For what? As long as you have breath in your lungs and a beating heart, you can dream and create new adventures.

13. Where do you see yourself in 15 years?

Teaching. Writing. Singing. Acting. Loving. Nurturing.

14. Who’s your hero?

My sister.

15. What’s your favourite colour?

Depends. Sometimes canary yellow, sometimes royal blue.

16. What song could you live without ever hearing again?

Anything by Lady Gaga or Black Eyed Peas.

17. Metallica or Madonna?

Madonna.

18. What’s your most hated vice?

People doing drugs, antidepressants etc. They are a quick fix solution that don’t fix anything.

19. Who is the most tragic figure in history?

Joan of Ark and Tesla.

20. What are the top three live shows you’ve seen in your life?

The Who. Queens Of The Stone Age. Joseph Arthur.

Googly Gaga, Lindsay won’t be needing a manicure in prison, Clyde, himself, and Clyde himself, and inappropriate behaviour  involving a festive special. These are the days of our lives.

I am horrified at the number of Lady Gaga replicas I encountered on the streets this weekend, inevitably headed to one of her two shows in Toronto at the ACC. There were little Gag-lettes of every possible version of the “pop princess” roaming about, distracting the normal touristy-types from the commuters also caught in the hustle and bustle. Follow the trail of glitter and diamond shards of left-over thinking-for-ones-self and you may find an impressionable girl with anime eyes. Yes, the very same (but not really) as those seen in Gaga’s video for Bad Romance. Apparently there is some sort of Gag-spawned trend to stick cheap giant eyeball-effect contacts onto your eyes in order to achieve that creepy, computer-generated look of the Lady’s. Girls are getting eye infections because of this quest for originality by imitating someone who imitates others. According to CBS News, the “trend” originated in South Korea, and is actually illegal in Americanland. Figures.

I’m sure the Hello Kitty brand “circle lens” contact lenses bought online in wholesale used in this tutorial are completely medically tested and approved. Now, if only I could implant a computer generator to transform my face in day-to-day life. I would be a kindergarten craft project circa 2010.

Side note: I just Googled “Lady Gaga imitators” and photo results of Peaches appeared. No. Just…no.

*  *  *

Lindsay Lohan has an awesome manicure (“F*CK U” uncensored, naturally). Is sentenced to 90 days in prison. Cries. But here’s the REAL story (via Fox News): “Lesbian Prison Gangs Waiting to Get Hands on Lindsay Lohan, Inmate Says”.  Oh, my God. “Tamara Haley, 38, is doing time for heroin possession and prostitution. She said Monday: “Everyone will want a piece of her. It will make them famous if they hurt Lindsay Lohan.” Obviously, Lindsay will be “segregated from the general population, but where she’s going it is even worse. It’s the wing where the murderers are.” Oh, perfect. “I don’t think they will actually be able to get to her, but you never know. At the very least some of those hard cases will try to scare her. They’ll scream stuff to her from their cells.” Are you also shuffling all sorts of mental images within your mind? Little Parent Trap-Lohan, huddling in a cold corner in an orange jumpsuit that does nothing for her ginger complexion, while angry ball-cutter-off-ers make obscene gestures. She’s going to come out of there all hardened and tough, with a tear-drop tattoo and soap-carving skills. Who’s the bi/utch now, Sam Ronson?

*  *  *

You may have heard of this kid via his Facebook fan page – Colton Harris Moore. A 19-year-old American fugitive, infamous for assorted burglary, as well as stealing cars and even planes. The FBI has been chasing him for 2 years, after escpaing from juvy and slyly evading authorities . They finally caught up with him in Bahamas, after a high-speed boat chase. Nick-named “The Barefoot Bandit”, he was shackled and escorted (sans shoes) to be held in a Bahamian prison where he pled guilty to charges of illegally landing/crashing a plane on the island. He’s been sentenced to three months in jail or a $300 dollar fine – which doesn’t account for the multiple burglaries he’s wanted for in the United States. (The Vancouver Sun). This kid is a modern-day outlaw. He outsmarted the FBI at age 17, and managed to steal more than one plane? It’s an art which he claims to have learned from video games – flying, that is. I’m sure virtual theft-simulation has nothing to do with his mad skills. In other news, I just got ahold of an Xbox console. Beware.

*  *  *

Roman Polanski is free! The film director had been recently charged for having sex with a thirteen-year-old girl in 1977, when he was 44. For the past 9 months, the now 77-year-old Polanski has been on house arrest in a Swiss chalet. May I suggest he be transferred to THIS Swiss Chalet? At least they have cranberry sauce. All sorts of Stockholm Syndrome going on here. Or as the mainstream like to call it: Creepy girl and…dad?

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P.S. — Happy Birthday to my Twittering buddy, Courtney Love. She turned 46 on Friday. Rock on!

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Twilight fever challenges sanity, The Black Eyed Peas will forever be around, Amanda Bynes makes news for the first time in “?”, Chris Brown cries, Gossip Girl’s Little J has a band, and a few visual highlights of ridiculousness.

Grab your waterproof mascara and graphic tees from Zellers, because Twilight fandemonium has officially been reignited, via the release of yet another installment to the series which causes so much heartache and concerned parental units. Unless, of course, you’re the proud daughter (or sometimes son?) of a patented Twi-Mom. Fankids. Shanty towns. Twilight premier. All of these things are exactly like the other. Welcome to the wonderful world of the Twilight saga. A land where no one grows old, a fantasy dreamville of raging hormones and mass accumulation of lost, confused souls.

The Twilight: Eclipse premiere was held Thursday in Los Angeles, and fangirls were out in full force, coming prepared, armed with tents, coolers, and shamelessness. An extensive makeshift campground was set up on the pavement outside the Nokia Theater, 4 days prior to the event. I would really, really, really like to get inside the heads of these tweens. Not just Twi-hards, but the Bieb-a-holics, as well. Is this entire generation completely certifiably insane? Or is it like a Josie and the Pussycats brainwashing sort of thing? Oh my God, the government  is controlling the minds of today’s youth with metaphorical characters injected with seductive charm and pale skin due to lack of personality and functionality sans attention.

Meanwhile, in real life (that’s the parallel universe in which your precious Robert Pattinson resides); Rob and Kristen Stewart continue to remain calm and composed during these baby-riots, somewhat unaffected (or deaf) from the daily shrieks they must endure. I still think they’re each other’s beard. Also, they seem like those somewhat nerdy, unpopular kids in high school who get thrust into the spotlight and forced popularity due to sudden recognition outside the realms of suburban culture. They’re super cool, but they can’t really comprehend as to why. And, in that, their cool points rise (as former Queen Bees stand huddled in a circle, silently scheming their demise). Taylor Lautner can play the role of the younger brother who becomes effortlessly attractive overnight – for an underager. And just for the record, I’m Team Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

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Breaking news! The Black Eyed Peas are splitting up for the hundredth time since before they were born. Just kidding. The ever-so reliable RadarOnline just reported that BEP have fallen victim to ego-maniacal rumblings and personality clashes, specifically Fergie vs. Will.I.Am. I don’t know who verifies these mysterious “sources” tabloids seems to fall indebted to, but I can tell you this little tidbit of nonsense is completely false. How dare someone mess with the hearts of rabid BEP fan-children? This type of fan may seem less-enthused than the Twilight breed, but trust, they are fully emotionally invested. Case in a point, a BlackEyedPeas.com user with erratic input. (Don’t ask me why I have access to this.) Earthquakes, tornados, flooding, and riots. Then The Peas will split and the world will come to an abrupt end.

Anyway, my sources, as well as Will’s Twitter (who needs a publicist), have confirmed that everything is fine in camp BEP. Still, The Black Eyed Peas remain a staple of the rumour sewing circle, having to deny multiple break-ups throughout the tears (that was supposed to be “years”, but gossip blogs are fueled by crying fans, you know). Also, LEAVE FERGIE ALONE! She’s not pregnant, she’s not fat, don’t perpetuate infidelity rumours, don’t be an mindless moron. Don’t provoke me to make a video blog.

Here are my darlings, very much together at Sunday’s BET Awards. (Even though, I’ve been informed, Will had previously been banned from attending the award show a few years back, for undisclosed reasons. Scandalous!)

The Black Eyed Peas are currently in the middle of the second leg of their The E.N.D. tour, which includes two back-to-back shows in Toronto July 27th & 28th. They promise to turn stadium venues into one huge club party. Check that out.

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I’m sure you’ve all seen or heard about Chris Brown‘s little episode at the BET Awards, but to sum up: After a lovely tribute to Michael Jackson, Chris broke down and simply could not get through the final moments of his performance. Don’t they rehearse these shows for days beforehand? I’m leaning toward the side of skepticism and calling out unnecessary dramatics. “Look, I can cry too! I’m emotional and sensitive. I am hurting, love me! P.S. I have a new record out.”* What…a tool. In the eyes of the majority of the public, Chris Brown will forever be pegged a woman-beater . That’s the consequential reality. Even if one chooses to overlook the “incident” with Rihanna, you can’t deny that that f*ckery will be the first thing coming to mind. Chris Brown’s past will haunt him forever. In the media, at least.

* (Not actual quote, obviously)

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Amanda Bynes has announced her retirement over Twitter, after 24 years of apparent slave-itude. She doesn’t “love” acting anymore. That’s it. Again, no publicist required. Are you going to miss Amanda’s overly-expressive faces and obnoxious characters? She started young. Check out this uber-annoying-yet-totally-adorable-because-she’s-ten video of Bynes doing stand-up at the Laugh Factory.

And here’s a stalky photo of Amanda from a 2006 Black Eyed Peas afterparty, grinding with some  dude while in Toronto filming Hairspray. The guestlist was obviously super exclusive. Just a fun fact to add to this somewhat irrelevant retirement news. She’s the man!

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This leaning tower of skeezy is brought to you by Black Bloc latex. It’s probably wrong to laugh-out-loud at someone’s bruised-knee, but Gags was finally brought down by her plastic ego, aka Lady Gaga falls. In the words of my quotable mother, “She’s so gross!”.

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It’s Alt-Miley, Taylor Momsen! She’s definitely going for a Cherie Currie (The Runaways) kind of thing, and I approve. Corset and amazing stockings aside, I think Taylor is a lot less provocative than Miley Cyrus, who writhes around the stage like a woman selling herself in a brothel. This 16-year-old encapsulates the shock-value without coming off overly skanky — which is what The Runaways were about in the 1970′s. Throw in a guitar and it works.

Check out this video by Taylor’s band The Pretty Reckless. Thoughts? She’s totally living out my own personal rockstar-image fantasy.

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Joey Tribbiani is all grown up! Matt LeBlanc‘s big night out.

(Image via TabloidProdigy)

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Maury. I watch this sh*t when I’m feeling down about myself and contemplating the current status of my life. Then I realize I can’t relate to Maury’s topics and everything seems clear. Nothing brings me up like knowing I veered down the correct path by not getting pregnant in elementary school. [Tip: Try watching this with the limited-edition vuvuzla-your-video soccer ball button option. It's just fun for everyone in your immediate vicinity and will drown out the shame you feel while listening to Misguided Youth #1 brag about rolling in pacifier options.] NECKTITUDE!

I truly thought the last girl featured was a parody. On the contrary, a parody of herself. Check out this Stevie Ryan‘s high-larious reenactment of said potential tween mom.

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Speaking of questionable life choices, my advice to children directly parallels that of Eminem‘s, specifically numbers 4 through 1. Keep it real.

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This week, in ridiculousness: Jodie Foster vs. teenager, loco Lohans, Sarah Palin, more Bieber, Miley vs. Perez Hilton; life fail, and I’ll be at the MMVAs.

Best. Story. Ever. Jodie Foster has been accused of assaulting a 17 year old boy at The Grove. Apparently, some kid accosted her as she was leaving the theatre with her kids, trying to get a photo and autograph, and dun dun dun…..that’s when Foster struck. According to the teenager’s father, “She came after him, poked him in the chest and said, ‘Do you even have a mother you slime ball?’” Totally visualizing this alleged scenario. Jodie Foster’s victim’s parental unit claims his kid was a huge fan. I’m calling bullshit. A teenage boy is a Jodie Foster fan? I was a Jodie Foster fan as a 7 year old girl idolizing her bell-bottom wearing 70′s on-screen rebellion.

A police report was filed with Jodie’s first name spelled incorrectly, information that would have been supplied by said “victim”. Way to be a fan. She fired back saying the punk was a paparazzi, with the kid’s father calling it a ridiculous statement, that he just has a “nice camera”. Seeing as this traumatic Academy Award-winning assault occurred in the parking lot of a public place, one would think a simple conclusion to this misdemeanor would be watching the security video, right? Well, the particular incident’s monitoring tape has mysteriously disappeared. And so the plot thickens! I will be following this story as the poking accusation develops.

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The Lindsay Lohan saga continues. I could care less, but my easily unimpressed monotone inner voice is being trampled by the amazingly frivolous antics of LL, so much so that the need for over-sharing becomes quite necessary, causing an equally ironic tiresome essay about the daily struggles of Lindsay Lohan. So, in the past week, Lindsay has set off her alcohol-monitoring SCRAM bracelet (which she contemplated decorating with Chanel something or other, and yes, that is forbidden), denied violating the SCRAM rules, partied at celebrity crack den Chateau Marmont as per usual, got another bench warrant for said violation, dropped 10K for the slip-up even though it was someone else’s drink that trickled down her spray-tanned leg, and finally, was dropped by her assistant. What a dizzying monsoon of erratic unimportance. It’s a hard-knock life, Gingy.

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In other superfluous Lohan news…

I hope you’ve booked your seat on the Hampton Jitney because a new club is about to open up. Brought to you by father-of-the-year Michael Lohan, the new ho-down hotspot is to be called Controversy. Moment of eye-rolling for that gem, please. The Lohans are quite the entrepreneurial fame-whoring Brady Bunch, with ML wanting his son to help manage the joint. I do not wish to acknowledge the existence of this hole any further.

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Sarah Palin has been hit with the boob job accusation. Her denial: “’No, I have not had implants. A report like that is about as real and truthful as reports that [my husband] Todd and I are divorcing or that I bought a place in the Hamptons or that [my son] Trigg is not my own child,” the former governor of Alaska, 46, told the host after being questioned point-blank.” To me, that all seems plausible. Especially the Hamptons hang out. In close proximity to Controversy, no doubt. But fake tits might distract during hunting season, so I’m going to go with obvious lame rumour on this one. Albeit a hilariously amazing one.

Above, the white crew neck that began the distorted right-wing hullabaloo.

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Lady Gaga‘s newest musical short film for single Alejandro just premiered. It is basically Lady Gaga as some robotic world leader-ice queen goddess with unlimited access to peroxide, being stifled in a Siberian nunnery and corrupting its overly sexually expressive in-patients. Anyway, it’s loaded with bowl cuts. Martina Dragonette totally did that ‘do first. This pertains to you too, Rihanna.

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Justin Bieber. Frolicking in the Bahamas during a photoshoot with Kim Kardashian. One must be careful if planning to spend time with Justin. A while back, Biebs jokingly Twittered that Kim was his girlfriend and she was immediately inundated with @’d death threats from insane Bieb-a-holics. This 16 year old is such a little player. He hits on any and all female interviewers. Keep holding on, tween dreamers. Everyone loves a restraining order.

Portia and Ellen 2.0

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A rough situation with a rap demo. That is all.

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Check out Miley Sluts-R-US making me proud, performing at London’s club GAY.

Kidding. I’m sure she’s still wholesome. But Perez Hilton is in trouble for posting a full-on crotch shot of Miley Cyrus, blasting the link on his Twitter. It has since been removed, but the photo showed Miley in a car with her vagina hanging out. This is being considered child porn distribution, as Miley is only 17. Fake or not, I’m hoping for serious legal backlash concerning Perez aka Mario Lavandeira. As much as respect as can be given for creating an empire out of nothing, PH uses his mediocre influence to exploit and bully. Bottom line, he is a douche bag. That’s it.

Regardless, both Perez and our princess of conservativeness will be attenting this Sunday’s MuchMusic Video Awards, and yours truly will be backstage observing the hectic shuffles and frantic flusters of stressed publicists, getting stuck in a high-traffic hallway between a wall and Kim Kardashian’s ass (true story). She won’t be present, but I can’t f*cking wait to get style tips from Snooki. Debauchery tends to develop up in Toronto, so stay tuned. Remember 2009?

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I will be out and about all weekend, prowling for scandal and pussy punches outside of after-parties. Of which, there are many, when every mediocre celebretard and their illegitimate career takes on vodka-induced hosting duties. Follow @pinkmafia4life for real-time updates from the streets of shame. Unless I involuntarily die of Bieber Fever. It’s possible.

Hourglass pear shape whateves, I respect the curvy women out there, but frankly if I wanted to see curvy women I would gawk at Kirstie Ally’s fucking Twitter all day. There’s an old saying that goes, “You can never be too thin or too rich”, quoted by basically everyone from Paris Hilton, Kate Moss to Nikki Sixx. Well my friends it is entirely true. And lets be honest if the Vera doesn’t fit you, well then, you alter yourself to fit the Vera.

For instance: the Kardashian sisters designed a recent line for BeBe, a medium is a small a small is an extra small, and well…etcetera, etcetera. We’re in a generation where if your not skinny well then lets face it, your not that cool. It’s clearly obvious that we are more attracted and drawn to thinner more fit people than larger/curvier people…clearly. And when everyone and their mom has and effing diet book or diet plan out there, how hard can it be.

I’m not saying starve yourself. Come on, enjoy those amazing pizzas from big slice, those poutine’s from Poutini’s, but if you’re going to indulge in such things, then you’re going to need some heavy workouts. If that’s not your style than do it my way and skip 3 or 4 meals and DANCE, DANCE, DANCE the carbs away.

I’m not saying saying drop everything and become a total skelator, but really you’re not the only one that has to look at yourself. Just love yourself and the skin your in and don’t stretch it out. And if that doesn’t make you feel any better, this will…SPOTTED KE$HA…TOTES GAINED A FEW POUNDS!

Words: Gay Rob

Lady Gaga has definitely become the new ‘Madonna’, and I don’t expect her to go away anytime soon. Gazing through the Metro this morning I noticed an article entitled, “Music videos are an endangered species on TV but online they’re thriving.” It then described the artist who hasn’t lost faith in the music video, Lady Gaga.

Most of you have probably seen her new video, along with, probably since this morning, more than 30 million views since it was aired on Vevo and Youtube last Thursday: Telephone. Lady Gaga is single handedly recreating the music video.

The Quentin Tarantino inspired video (which again has had 20 million + views since Thursday) of course has a lot of deeper meaning than we think. Lady G quoted that she is “trying to convolute everyone’s idea of what a pop music video should be.”
Apparently, according to MTV in the UK, Quentin wants to use Lady Gaga in his next movie as an assassin.  I’m not sure how that will work out, but of course we’re excited. Kill Bill volume III maybe?

All I have to say is one word. Ferosh.

If you haven’t seen the video yet (which you should have), take a look:

We LOVE Lady Gaga.