We can always depend on the Daily Mail to skip the unnecessary stuff and get to what’s really interesting:
Forget the football, who will lift the cup for most glamorous partner?
A quick sample:
Follow the link to see the rest.
We can always depend on the Daily Mail to skip the unnecessary stuff and get to what’s really interesting:
Forget the football, who will lift the cup for most glamorous partner?
A quick sample:
Follow the link to see the rest.
Here’s a picture of the lovely Helena Bonham Carter at some insignificant red carpet event or other, looking quite unlike her normal scraggly self (other than the hairstyle and boho sunglasses):
However, knowing Our Helena as we do, we can have no doubt that her long spotted dress most probably conceals a pair of Army boots. Some things just don’t change… for some reason, leopards come to mind.
Here’s a pic of some ancient (49-year-old) model prancing barefoot through the streets of London, clutching a bottle of wine. (One of those “candid” i.e. posed paparazzi events.)
I have to admit that she’s not too bad for an older broad — apparently she was a model, or still is (see more pics at the link). However, that’s not what I want to talk about here, but the “barefoot in the streets of London” thing.
1) Considering the chances of spearing or slashing one’s foot on a discarded beer bottle in the Brit capital, I wouldn’t prance barefoot through the streets of London for a bet.
2) Given that London’s streets are cleaned about as often as are the streets of Johannesburg, the chances of catching some flesh-eating disease from said injury are higher than the average rock musician in the 1970s.
2) Even assuming that our streets are cleaner than London’s (which they are), if one were to try doing the same thing here in Plano, there is a distinct chance of the blazing-hot surface searing one’s foot in a manner similar to this:
It makes me wince just to think of it.
Okay, I took enough guff from y’all about my Sunday post of Toyah Willcox (sheesh, she’s almost my age, cut the old lady some slack, willya?) so here are a few random hotties floating around my hard drive.
If one of those doesn’t satisfy you, you need help.
The other day I was skimming Teh Intarwebz, idly looking at smut pics of pretty women, and saw this creature:
I had (and still have) no idea who she is, but my lecherous gaze was somewhat tempered by my feeling of guilt for ogling a teenage girl. (Of course, it turns out that she’s actually 30, so my guilt was misplaced.)
Which brings me to my point.
As we get older — I’m fairly sure I’m not alone in this — everyone not looking like the late Prince Philip looks about twelve years old, and I often wonder when we started promoting adolescents to positions of power and authority.
I’m not even talking about celebrity women, who with the aid of surgery can look decades younger than their actual age. I’m talking about everyday people we see on television, who are supposedly in charge of some important function, but who seem to still need adolescent acne cream.
Then again, who cares? As long as we can ogle the likes of Carol Vorderman, Annabella Sciorra or Jennifer Grey (all aged 60):
…I don’t really care that foreign policy is being run by someone who looks like Doogie Howser, or that Steve Urkel somehow became President of the United States.
Whereas Sabine Schmitz was taken from us at age 51, Jessica Walter — one of my favorite character actresses of all time — held out till 80.
Here we go:
In later years, she just aged like the finest wine:
And now [sigh] I’ll just have to take Malory Archer off Ye Olde Buckette Lyst:
R.I.P. Jessica. You were always one of the best, and one of my favorites.