Amanda Seyfried Again

Still in love. Also I saw her!

She shows a picture of her new dog, an Australian shepherd. “It’s so predictable,” she says. “I just left him and I already want to run back and see him.”

Puppies are like that. True. But why lop off the edges of your freedom when you’re young enough to use that freedom fully?

“Most of the time I just want to go home and throw the dog a stick,” Seyfried says. “Can anything be more obvious than throwing a stick? I need to be needed.”


She’s Out Of My League

Obviously I don’t need to go into depth about how this is a retarded and offensive concept for a movie.

I dislike the idea of leagues, because what is a league? There is no way you could be objective about it, especially if the only criteria you are using to define said leagues is physical appearance. And then, if for some reason someone decides they are in a “better” league than me then suddenly I don’t “deserve” them? I hate the concept of “deserving” someone in relationships too. People aren’t objects, and I’m not entitled to them. They are their own person with their own life and beliefs and the only person they are “entitled” to answer to is themselves. If they want to share their life with another person, or me, then that’s their choice. I suppose if there is anything “deserved” in relationships it is kindness and respect, but since those things should be a given anyway I don’t see the point in relegating it to people who only meet the criteria of a particular “league.”

Like I hope I never hear someone say to anyone, “s/he is ugly and fat. They should be happy to take what they can get.”

But, on that note, the most frustrating thing about She’s Out Of My League isn’t necessarily the concept. I can see how “hollywood” feels like there is an equally retarded demographic out there who might go see this piece of shit (but hopefully there isn’t).

The frustrating thing is that this concept is based on “ratings.” Ok, fine, I can buy that premise. Admittedly some people are hotter than others. Admittedly some numbers are higher than others.

But I’m supposed to believe he’s a “5” (middle of the road), and she’s a perfect “10” (can’t be any better)? I’m sorry, but despite this dude’s knack for making goofy, awkward faces, he’s probably not completely average. He’s at least attractive enough to be in a movie, and to be honest if he seems unattractive it is probably no different than how Anne Hathaway seemed “unattractive” in The Princess Diaries.

If I saw these two walking hand in hand I would not do a double take for one millisecond. I would think, if anything, “there goes a pretty normal looking couple walking down the street.” I DEFINITELY wouldn’t think “how did he get her?” and I have thought that before, I’ll confess. But for a movie where the entire premise relies on evoking that question… shouldn’t this guy be uglier?

And shouldn’t she be “prettier”? She is pretty. She looks wholesome. But like, for something as cliched as this movie I would expect a woman as cliched as Megan Fox. I’ve been culturally conditioned by this industry to think of women with big boobs and porn star looks to be “10s”. So, then, this piece of shit movie, coming from the very people who told me to think of Megan Fox as perfect, should at least have Megan Fox! Or some equivalent. I mean I guess a part of me feels like if you are going to come out with an offensive premise for a movie then you should at least commit to it instead of trying to downplay its offensiveness with approachable actors. Like, the fact that you don’t feel comfortable casting a hooters girl says something about the fact that maybe this movie shouldn’t have been made in the first place.

Maybe this will all be explained in the movie somehow so I can stop suspending my disbelief. I’ll never find out because I won’t go see it. But like, maybe we learn that personalities are what count, and that ratings and leagues go deeper than looks. Nonetheless, that’s not the message I personally receive when I look at their promotional website in which hot girls are rated and receive comments from lonely, bored men about how much they want to bone them.

In conclusion:

Really, you thought this would be a good idea?

and then,

Ok, you thought it was a good idea. But you aren’t even bothering to have your shitty idea reach its full potential. Stop wasting my time!

Basset Hounds

Basset hounds are going to make me famous:

Search Engine Terms

These are terms people used to find your blog.


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The Sunscreen Song

This is more important to post:

Wear sunscreen.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they’ve faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you’ll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don’t worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.


Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts. Don’t put up with people who are reckless with yours.


Don’t waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes you’re behind. The race is long and, in the end, it’s only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.


Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don’t.

Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You’ll miss them when they’re gone.

Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll have children, maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll divorce at 40, maybe you’ll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don’t congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else’s.

Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don’t be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It’s the greatest instrument you’ll ever own.

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.

Read the directions, even if you don’t follow them.

Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents. You never know when they’ll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings. They’re your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.


Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you’ll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don’t expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you’ll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.

Don’t mess too much with your hair or by the time you’re 40 it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it’s worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen.

NEWSFLASH: New Girl Crush

Newsflash! Britney Spears and Drew Barrymore are old news. (I still love them though.)

I have found a new celeb to attach my affections to; a girl who seems like a better version of myself, yet who is somehow still “just like us!” But really, I appreciate her honesty.

GLAMOUR: So how do you define glamour?

AMANDA SEYFRIED: Hmm…glamour—something that is beautiful, inspired and…real.

GLAMOUR: I love that!

AMANDA SEYFRIED: It sounds like a lot of B.S.! [Laughs.]

GLAMOUR: No! It’s true: There are beautiful people out there who are not necessarily real. What’s been your most glam moment?

AMANDA SEYFRIED: The Mamma Mia! premiere in London. It was the world premiere of the one project that was going to change my life. I was wearing Miu Miu, and I needed to look amazing, because I was starting to really fall in love with my boyfriend [actor Dominic Cooper, her costar in that movie]. I wanted him to see how glamorous I could be.

GLAMOUR:: You guys look like a glamorous couple—don’t you feel like one?

AMANDA SEYFRIED: When I’m in my pajamas on Skype with him? There’s nothing glamorous about us except when people are dressing us.

GLAMOUR: How does he make you feel glamorous?

AMANDA SEYFRIED: I don’t think you can get it from a man. He says wonderful things to me…but it comes from inside.

GLAMOUR: How do you stay so grounded?

AMANDA SEYFRIED: Maybe people [in Hollywood] wear really nice clothes, and they drive really nice cars—but that doesn’t make me comfortable. And if I’m not comfortable, it won’t be a part of my life. There’s something empty about having your own VIP booth, and people staring at you, drinking and dancing—to get to what? To get drunk and sleep with somebody? I did that once. I went to a party and—this was a long time ago—I was so drunk that I ended up taking this person home and not remembering anything.

GLAMOUR: Really?

AMANDA SEYFRIED: And I woke up the next morning, and I was like, Who am I? I am not this person, I didn’t enjoy that, I wish it could all go away…. So I stopped going out.

GLAMOUR: Do you not go out?

AMANDA SEYFRIED: It’s sad, actually, because my anxiety keeps me from enjoying things as much as I should at this age.

GLAMOUR: Really? I know a lot of young women suffer from anxiety. It’s brave of you to talk about it.

AMANDA SEYFRIED: [I take] pills, long-term pills, Lexapro. It makes me tired all the time. Anxiety, it just stops your life….

GLAMOUR: Do you have panic attacks?

AMANDA SEYFRIED: [Inhales deeply.] I do. It feels like you’re going to die. There’s nothing scarier.