From Russia with Love

Before I begin, please allow me to take a quick moment to explain to our fellow media agencies how time zones work. Sochi is in Russia. This means that Sochi is in a different time zone. In fact, Sochi is anywhere from 9 to 14 hours ahead of the United States, depending on where you are and if I did my math right. This is all to say that Olympic events have happened long before they air in the USA. Fine. There are people living in this very country who already know who won today’s events. Fine. But I shouldn’t have to fear going online because I might inadvertently discover who won the gold medal in ice dancing – especially when I’m trying to read an entirely unrelated story.

I understand that your job is to report the news. And who the medal winners are is most definitely newsworthy. However, until those medal-winning events have aired in our home country, could you please refrain from revealing anything unless I, the reader, have intentionally clicked on the story? (Did we learn nothing from NBC?) Saying spoiler alert and then immediately proceeding, in the same sentence, to reveal the unsought-after information isn’t much of an alert. Nor is posting a picture which clearly reveals as much as any written story ever could.

Do we understand each other? Good, then we can proceed.

I enjoy the Olympics. They always bring with them many heart-warming, sometimes heart-wrenching, oftentimes scandalous stories. History is made and countries are shamed. It’s good TV.

Here are just a few of what I think are the most heart-warming, heart-wrenching, history-making stories to come out of Sochi so far.

First there was the story about the U.S. bobsledder who got stuck in the bathroom. Johnny Quinn was just taking a shower, minding his own business, when the door to the bathroom somehow jammed. Not having a cell phone on his person – because, you know, he was in the shower and because, you know, he’s not 16; a 16-year-old would have had his cell phone with him regardless – he had to Hulk his way out and bust the door down. 

 Johnny Quinn: The man. The myth. The legend.  

Incidentally, Quinn spent approximately 15 seconds as a wide receiver for the Green Bay Packers in 2008, so I’m fairly certain that the moves he learned on the field also came in handy. I mean, seriously, Packer receivers aren't so different from the Hulk. They’re both large, muscular, and wear green outfits.

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American skier Bode Miller became not only the most decorated American Alpine skier in Olympic history, but also an internet sensation when he broke down in a post-race interview on Sunday after winning bronze in the men’s Super-G. He was asked about his brother who died suddenly last year at the age of 29 and became so emotional that he couldn’t even finish the interview. 

Don't cry for me, Mother Russia.

His overwhelming emotion is all being attributed to the loss of his brother, but what also bears mentioning is that his wife suffered a miscarriage last year. Knowing quite a few people who have found themselves in a similar situation, it seems to me that the loss of a pregnancy can be just as traumatic as the loss of a sibling. And of course we can’t forget the bitter custody battle that Bode currently finds himself in with baby mama #2.

I don’t necessarily care for the way he’s handled a lot of his personal business, but the point is, Bode Miller had a rough year last year and, unfortunately for him, that fact became all too clear on a very public stage.

 

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Forget silver, Daniel's cloud is lined in gold.

And since we’re on the topic of sad things, it seems appropriate to mention Swedish cross-country skier, Daniel Richardsson. In July of last year, he and a friend were standing on the side of the road with a flat tire when an RV drove past, hitting them both. Richardssdon suffered some ligament damage and bruising. His friend was killed. But somehow Richardsson was able to push past the pain – both emotional and physical – to land himself a spot on his country’s 4 x 10 km relay.

And on Sunday, they won gold.

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While we’re on the topic of gold-winning athletes from other countries, it seems appropriate to mention Viktor Ahn. Ahn made headlines when he provided Russia with its first men’s short track gold medal.

He’s also made headlines for not being (born) Russian.

Ahn was born and raised in South Korea, but after winning his native country a slew of medals in the 2006 Olympics, he injured himself and, feeling that he wasn’t provided with adequate support, he decided to move to Russia. He changed his name from Ahn Hyun-Soo to Viktor Ahn, started training in his adopted country, became a Russian citizen and the rest, as they say, is Olympic history.

V for Viktor(y)

 

I would also like to take this moment to applaud Ahn and all Olympic athletes – both Summer and Winter – who train in the country they compete for. If you’re living and training in a specific country, I feel you should also compete for that country. In my opinion, if it’s a good enough country to represent, it’s a good enough country to live in.

But maybe I'm just talking crazy.

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“Do you believe in miracles?!” Who doesn’t get chills when Al Michaels yells that line at the end of Miracle, a movie that is allegedly based on a true story. Unfortunately, I wasn't alive to witness this "Miracle on Ice" so I can neither confirm nor deny its authenticity.

But rumor has it that the  “Miracle on Ice” was a hockey game played between the U.S. and the Soviet Union in the 1980 Winter Olympics. Despite the enthusiasm of the spectators, however, it wasn’t even a gold-medal match. It also wasn’t a winnable game for the Americans. Or so the world thought. But win it they did, which gave them the opportunity to play Finland for the gold medal. 

They also won that.

And the Americans repeated history on Saturday by beating the Russians yet again; but, just like in 1980, it wasn’t easy. TJ Oshie became a household name (sort of, I still had to Google it) and future Wheaties cover model when he led the United States to a 3-2 win over Russia. It came down to a shoot-out – and much like soccer shoot-outs, it involved no guns or dusty ghost towns. I know what you’re thinking: false advertising.

The only guns here are in the bicep area.

The team played again today, but apparently NBC only felt the need to show “highlights” of the game. So in case you missed the 30 seconds they dedicated to it tonight, let me be the first to tell you that the U.S. beat the Czech Republic today, which means they will play Canada in the semifinals. This also means that the United States is guaranteed a spot in either the bronze- or gold-medal game.

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The American men swept the ski slopestyle medals, with Joss Christensen winning the gold. My understanding is that Christensen was a bit of a dark horse and a controversial addition to the team. But he won the spot and the gold, despite the fact that his dad died last August. I’m starting to see a correlation between personal tragedy and Olympic skill. I don’t like it.

Gus Kenworthy (L), Joss Christensen (C), Nick Goepper (R)

 

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Finally, some history-making. On Monday night, Meryl Davis (when your name is Meryl, I’m pretty sure you either have to be an ice-skating phenom or an Oscar-caliber actor, otherwise it’s just sad) and Charlie White became the first American ice dancers since the invention of ice dancing – and America – to win gold. And they looked very cute doing it. They’ve been skating together for 17 years, which is basically since they were in utero, and seeing the way she looked at him and how she’d grab his arm periodically, it was clear that she finds great comfort in his presence. They’re kind of adorable. I hope they get married someday and have lots of little Olympian babies.      

 Make new friends but keep the old. One is silver and the other's, well, you know...  

And now it’s time for me to stop talking and for you to start. (You probably thought this moment would never come.) Are there any note-worthy Olympic moments so far that you would add to the list? 

Practically Perfect in Every Way

It’s official. I want to be Cate Blanchett when I grow up.

I was already fairly certain of this fact, but after watching Lesley Stahl’s 60 Minutes interview with the Oscar winner last night, any lingering doubts I may have had completely disappeared.

Cate Blanchett is perfection. She’s beautiful. Stupidly talented. Tall. Self-deprecating. Low maintenance. Married to a normal-looking man. And has never, to my knowledge, had a nip slip.

She also appears to value her personal relationships over her career. Last year she resigned from her dream job as co-artistic director of the Sydney Theatre Company in order to mother her three boys, because apparently parenting isn’t something she and her husband, Andrew Upton, want to “outsource.”

Cate and her insourcing hubby

And recently she’s made headlines for dedicating her BAFTA win to friend Philip Seymour Hoffman, who died in February, saying, “You raised the bar continually. Phil, buddy, this is for you, you bastard. Hope you're proud." (She even makes the use of the word bastard sound classy.) She was also pictured bringing gifts to “Phil’s” children the day after his death, after having flown in from the west coast for this specific purpose.

  Cate and Philip Seymour Hoffman at the The Talented Mr. Ripley premiere in 1999.   

Unfortunately, there always has to be a hater in the group and, in this particular group, it’s Woody Allen. Allen directed Cate in her latest film Blue Jasmine, for which she won the aforementioned BAFTA, and apparently told her after her first few takes on the film that she was “awful.” Of course, Woody Allen’s not exactly known for his always impeccable judgment. On the other hand, I guess if anyone understands poor acting or acting poorly, it’s him.

As you may have noticed from the above clip, Cate is one of those rare characters that you can watch in an interview and come away liking even more. Other C/Kates might want to take note. Actually, not just C/Kates. There are quite a few people, in Hollywood especially, that could stand to learn that a little charm, class and humility go a long way.

Maybe Cate and I should teach a class.

Australia's Golden Wattle

Cate Blanchett is a very relatable woman but she also seems to get that she’s not “every woman”; that you can’t be “every woman” when you’re making 85 times more than most women – and, let’s be honest, men – make. In this respect, she appears to have a fair amount of self-awareness.

So, basically, she’s like the exact opposite of Oprah.

And I love her for that.

Obviously, though, there are also many reasons to love Cate that have very little to do with hating Oprah.

This is a woman who has made a reputation for herself as being a hard worker; a woman who has had to learn to balance work and family. Clearly she has it a lot easier than a lot of other people, but she’s still a working mom.

The term “working mother” gets thrown around a lot, and certain duchesses women are touted for somehow managing to “work” several hours a week, 2-3 times per year while also finding time to instruct their nannies on how to raise their children. Obviously acting isn’t the hardest job in the world, nor the most important (d’you hear that, Tom?), but I would argue that it’s a wee bit more strenuous and time-consuming than smiling, waving, and shaking hands for approximately 10 hours per month.

I mean, if we’re going to pick celebrities to be our role models, shouldn’t we pick someone like Cate? Someone with a personality? Someone with a strong work ethic? Someone who’s actually accomplished something?

Cate Blanchett is a real working mom. She’s a real role model. And she’s a real classy lady.

Perhaps other C/Kates should start paying attention. They might just learn something.

Love Hurts

In the spirit of Valentine’s Day, my absolute favorite time of year (not), I thought it might be nice to bring you a story of love and soon-to-be marriage. It’s so rare that we get to highlight positive celebrity occurrences – mostly because they happen so infrequently – this seems like the perfect opportunity to live in the love and light for a moment.

If you’re familiar with the show American Horror Story, you’re probably also familiar with actor Evan Peters who’s been on the series since it started; and, if you’re familiar with breathing, you’ve also most likely heard of actress Julia Roberts. So what do these two have in common? Well, in about a hot minute they’re going to be related. Kind of.

Despite what I just made it sound like, however, Evan and Julia are not engaged. (After all, Julia prefers to date men who are already married.) No, Julia’s not marrying Evan, but her niece Emma is.

Emma Roberts. You may’ve heard of her. She was also on this season of American Horror Story, as well a bunch of other stuff that I can’t be bothered to look up right now. And, just like her aunt, she’s entirely overrated. Both as an actress and a human being. But that’s really inconsequential to this story.

Anyway, Evan and Emma are getting married! Apparently this love-struck duo met on the set of their film Adult World and, although Emma spent the entire shoot pulling out all of her favorite man-getting tricks, it wasn’t until after the film wrapped that she actually snagged the hunk of heaven that is Evan Peters. As someone who hasn’t always made the best decisions when it comes to keeping work and personal separate, I can appreciate that Evan made the adult choice to wait until he and Emma were no longer coworkers to start courting her, or as the kids say, hit that.

And the rest is history.

History in the making

Isn’t that the cutest and most romantic story you’ve ever heard? Doesn’t it just make you puke hearts and snot rainbows? Obviously theirs is a love for the ages. Except, oh wait, there is one thing. It’s small, though. Barely even bears mentioning.

She beats him.

Or, she did beat him. At least once. Allegedly.

It was almost seven months ago and, in fairness, some reports claim that both parties were injured, but the fact remains that Emma was the one arrested for domestic abuse last July after police were called to a Canadian hotel room where they found Evan bloodied and sporting a bite mark.

But instead of pressing charges, Evan decided to put a ring on it. I’m sure this is a decision that he’ll never ever, in any way, live to regret.

Anyway, that’s the CliffsNotes version of the saga that is Evan and Emma. A little love. A little violence. They’re basically living their own Lifetime movie. Will this marriage last? Probably not. Do Lifetime movies ever have happy endings?

But because tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, I’m going to attempt to end on a positive note. Although it’s unlikely that this union will last much longer than a bucket of chicken, when it does implode like a faulty firecracker, at least they’ll be able to split their monogrammed wedding gifts equally between them. (Get it? Because they'll have the same initials. Pretty darn good planning on their part.)

So at least there’s that.

After all, aren’t most acrimonious divorces a direct result of people not wanting to part with the guest towels?

And on that note, I hope you all have a marvelous Valentine’s Day.

But remember:

Going for Gold

Apparently I’m very ethnocentric. I didn’t really realize this about myself until I started watching this year’s Olympics, but I quickly learned that if it’s not someone from the United States skiing, skating, luging, or hockeying, I can’t really be bothered to care.

Or so I thought.

I was killing time last night, just waiting for it to be time for bed after a really crummy day at work, when I happened to catch the tail end of the men’s freestyle skiing moguls (I have no idea what that means, but it looks like hell on your knees) where I watched defending gold medalist, Canadian Alex Bilodeau complete his run. I’m told he did well. I couldn’t really tell. Unless the skier falls, every run looks exactly the same to me. What alerted me to the fact that Alex’s performance was especially good was the fact that commentator Johnny Moseley (remember him?!) got very excited.

But Johnny wasn’t the only thrilled spectator. As Alex crossed the finish line, the cameras cut to his brother Frederic and my Grinch-like heart grew almost as quickly as my jean size has recently.  

Brotherly Love

Frederic Bilodeau is a precious, precious man. And, according to his brother, he has the heart of a skier. Unfortunately, his body is afflicted with cerebral palsy, which makes skiing a bit difficult. In fact, according to his doctors, he shouldn’t even be walking. But he has the spirit of a fighter; and the joy on his face as he watched his brother compete was enough to bring a tear to my eye…or maybe that was the vodka.

Regardless, watching Frederic cheer on his little brother and then seeing the embrace the two shared afterwards, well, it was enough to thaw even the Grinchiest heart among us. It was so beautiful, in fact, that it almost made me forgive Canada for Justin Bieber.

Almost.

Where's La Beouf?

Move over Biebs... there's a new cray in town.  Once again proving that celebrity and intelligence are often mutually exclusive, Shia La Beouf has taken his one man crazy train on the road.  Only this time at the Berlin Film Festival.

I mean, you'd think that the weirdest thing about his appearance would be that Shia, former Disney star, is promoting his latest glorified porn movie, Nymphomaniac: Volume 1.  Oh yes, dear reader, you got that right.  There will be a part 2. 

But no, Shia took it to the next level.  In a major fashion don't, Shia wore a tux with paper bag... OVER HIS HEAD. The kicker?  The hand written claim "I AM NOT FAMOUS ANYMORE".

We are inclined to agree.

Shia is calling this performance art.  Listen, we've seen this before.  I mean, am I the only one who remembers crazy bearded Joaquin Phoenix?  Must Shia plagiarize everything?  Or is Shia hiding a monster zit???
 
I mean, I get it Shia.  I often don't know what I want to wear to events.  But you know what?  I put my pants on one leg at a time.  And then I put on a shirt one sleeve at a time.  And then I contemplate putting on a paper bag.  Maybe I even try it on.  But then I hear the eternal advice of Coco Chanel...

"Before you leave your house, remove the last thing you put on, as it is generally unnecessary"

Yes, Shia, in your case it is most assuredly COMPLETELY unnecessary.  Well, that is unless you're trying to revive a bottomed out acting career by any means necessary.  

Wahlbrilliant

I’ve made no secret of the fact that I love the Wahlbergs. Donnie, Mark, doesn’t matter. If it’s a Wahlberg, I love it. So when I found out that the Wahlbergs were getting their own reality show, I was thrilled – not so thrilled that I don’t continuously forget it’s on, but still pretty excited.

And when I finally sat down to watch it on A&E’s website (thank you, A&E, for not sucking like ABC), I wasn’t disappointed.

The boys and their beloved mama

Wahlburgers is spectacular. To be honest, I was surprised at how much I loved it considering that Donnie and Mark are more behind-the-scenes guys and only show up onscreen periodically. The main stars of the show are really Paul, another Wahlberg brother; Alma, the family’s matriarch; and the restaurant for which the show is named, Wahlburgers.

It doesn’t take long to fall in love with Paul and Alma. They’re so unaffected, so unimpressed, so real. They don’t care that Mark and Donnie are superstars(ish). As far as Paul and Alma are concerned, the two better-known Wahlbergs are no more or less important than anyone else in the clan.

And speaking of the clan, if you’re familiar with the any of the Wahlbergs, you know that they’re a small people. According to Donnie’s IMDB profile, he’s 5’10” but I think that’s way wishful thinking. The same website has Mark listed at 5’8” and, although Paul doesn’t have a height listed on his page, he makes Mark’s 5’8” self look like a freaking giant, so he obviously has the Wahlberg height – or lack thereof – as well.

But what they lack in physical stature, they make up for in personality. Boy, do they have personality. You probably have to when you’re so little. Otherwise, you’ll get stepped on. Literally.

The above preview gives you just a very small taste, so trust me when I tell you that this show is delicious. The people are delicious. The accents are delicious. The food is…well, I don’t know because I’ve never been there, but it looks pretty good. It’s a programming feast for the eyes and ears. And like with any good feast, the individual components are pretty tremendous in their own right.

Let’s explore each featured Wahlberg in a little more detail, shall we? It’s a character amuse-bouche, if you will. After all, you come here for judgment and judgment you shall have!

Paul is an obviously hard worker who is committed to his business and his customers; he’s someone who seems entirely uninterested in riding his brothers’ coattails. I can respect that. I can’t relate to it, but I respect it. If I had two superstar(ish) brothers, I’m fairly certain that I’d happily hop aboard those Armani coattails and ride them all the way to bubble baths in gold-plated tubs and a pet elephant. (Isn’t that how rich people spend their money?)

Paul also, fun fact, doesn’t particularly enjoy press events. In fact, he’s very uptight at such events, as if “he was going to some rectal exam.” (Thanks, Mark.) But I think that just goes to show how real and down-to-earth he is. It’s kind of refreshing.

Alma is adorably sassy. She’s raised a bunch of mama’s boys, but it’s kind of cute. She also apparently makes a mean marinara sauce, a sauce that her boys were devastated to learn wasn’t her own recipe. Why this was such a huge shock to them is a mystery to me. She’s Irish. I didn’t think the Irish were particularly well-known for their drop-dead delicious marinara sauces, but what do I know? I’m Polish. If it's not sausage, potato or cabbage, my people haven’t heard of it, don’t trust it and won’t eat it.

 

Mark was the one (slight) disappointment. I really wanted to like him, for many reasons, but felt like he was the one most aware of his fame (probably, in all fairness, because he’s the most famous). He seemed more interested in noticing the people who were noticing him than he was in the person he was talking to, never giving full attention to anyone – even his mom. Now, again, most of his scenes were filmed in public places so maybe he’s different when he’s not being “Mark Wahlberg the movie star" – assuming, of course, that he’s ever NOT being “Mark Wahlberg the movie star."

I will say, though, there was mention in this week’s episode that because Mark was the youngest and the smallest, he spent a fair amount of his childhood being thrown against the wall by his brothers. I 100% without a doubt would might also have a similar attitude under similar circumstances. And, to his credit, he was much more likeable this past week, so maybe he really does just have a hard time balancing the “Mark Wahlberg” persona with real-life Mark. He should take a page out of Miley’s book. If Miley can just be Miley then Mark can sure as hell just be Mark.

And, saving the best for last, Donnie Wahlberg, my (and his mother’s) favorite. Despite his limited role on the show, Donnie doesn’t disappoint. He’s charming and clever and wears a lot of hats so you can’t see he’s balding, which means he’s also pretty cute. He also manages to slip in quite a few classic one-liners that add a lot to the show.

For instance, when Paul mentions that he doesn’t want to open their newest Wahlburgers across the street from another burger joint because it’s, in essence, disrespectful, Donnie busts out with, “Paul doesn’t want to open up within 500 miles of McDonald’s because he doesn’t want to hurt McDonalds’s feelings.”

I, unlike Donnie, find Paul’s consideration refreshing. When was the last time anyone stopped to consider McDonalds’s feelings?

Back when it was still "Ugh, those Wahlbergs."

At times Wahlburgers does feel a bit scripted, but what reality show doesn’t anymore? The undeniable truth is that this is a family that loves each other. They’ve struggled together and triumphed together. They may fight and tease and annoy and complain, but this is a group of boys who love their mother – in a totally un-Norman Bates kind of way – and each other. Who doesn’t love that?

Here are the boys...loving each other.

Paul ends the first episode by saying, “Making people happy, that’s what I live for.”

And if the first few episodes are anything to go by, then mission accomplished, Paul. Mission accomplished.

Only the Good Die Young

Confession time. Despite the TERRIBLE accents, melodramatic performances, and silly storyline, I kind of love Varsity Blues. It’s a guilty pleasure of mine and, having gone to high school in Texas, I spent many years thinking it was a documentary. Apparently it’s not. Apparently everyone in this movie is an “actor” - and I use the term loosely.

I mean, who doesn’t cringe when James Van Der Beek confronts his father, in a painfully bad, stilted southern accent, with “I don’t…want…your life.”? So bad. So bad it’s good. But the best part of this deliciously awful celluloid is, inarguably, the beautiful Paul Walker.

With his piercing blue eyes and tall, athletic frame, he was the stuff dreams are made of.

Tragically, Paul and his friend, Roger Rodas, went the way of James Dean when they were killed in a car crash late last year. The details of the crash have been widely publicized - and won’t be regurgitated here - but what hasn’t gotten much press (at least not to my knowledge) and what bears mentioning, is a story that speaks not to how Paul died, but how he lived.

So often after someone dies, (s)he is essentially canonized in people’s memories. It’s almost sacrilegious to speak ill of the dead. Paul Walker was no different. So when his dad gave an interview about how wonderful Paul had been, how he was a generous spirit who loved his daughter and never denied his fans a photo or autograph, I figured it was to be taken with a substantial grain of salt. Then I read about an encounter my blue-eyed darling had with a soldier and his wife in a Santa Barbara jewelry store.
 

I really just can't get enough of his face.

In 2004, Kyle and Kristen Upham were engagement ring shopping when they came face-to-face with Paul Walker himself. The Fast and Furious star struck up a conversation with the couple, which is how he learned that Kyle had just returned from his first deployment in Iraq and how he was now anxious to buy his lady her dream ring. Unfortunately, dreams don’t have a budget, while a man on a limited salary does. Although they found the perfect ring, the couple left empty-handed. Imagine their surprise then, to later be called back to the store and handed a bag with the $10,000 ring inside. The only catch was that no one would divulge who their Daddy Warbucks was.

After the death of the Varsity Blues actor, however, the rest of the story emerged. According to the lucky saleswoman who happened to be working that day, after seeing the couple leave without the much-desired ring, warm-hearted Walker purchased the diamond for the pair. His only request was that his good deed remain anonymous. And it did. Until his death.

Kindness for the sake of kindness. What a novel idea. 

See?

Obviously I didn’t know Paul Walker. I don’t know what he was like from day-to-day. But I think it’s safe to say that a man – a celebrity no less – who purchases a gift, of any size really, for two people he’s just met and asks only that his generosity remain anonymous, well, that guy can’t be all bad; he’s probably not spending his evenings stealing hubcaps and kicking puppies.

All joking aside, it’s a lovely story and one that we can all learn from. May we all live in such a way that, when our card is finally punched, we leave behind an Upham or two. A group of people to recount to the world what amazing people we were and how pretty we were on the inside.

And, let’s be honest, the outside too.

Paul Walker: just as pretty on the inside 

Don’t Stop Beliebing

I’ve been planning this blog ever since our dear friend Justin Bieber was arrested in Florida for drunk driving. But, as per usual, I got busy (read: lazy) and it didn’t happen. Apparently this was the best decision I’ve ever made (what this says about my life, I’m not sure) because the Justin Bieber Bad Decisions Tour just keeps on rolling. Yes, it appears that my procrastination has actually paid off. I think this is a lesson for all of us.

It all started a week and a half ago when, as I mentioned, The Biebs was arrested in Miami for drunk drag racing. Actually, to be more accurate, it probably all started in 1994 with the birth of Canada’s biggest embarrassment (sorry, Howie Mandel). Or maybe it all started with the invention of the internet without which there would be no YouTube, without which there would be no “Justin Bieber.” I mean, he would probably still exist, but we wouldn’t be subjected to his auditory pollutants.

But who has time to go back that far? Let’s just stick to the more recent stops on the Bad Decisions Tour. In less than a year, he has spit on his fans; attempted to assault the paparazzi on several occasions; vandalized a hotel wall in Brazil by spray painting “Beiliebers 4 life” (could he not have come up with something more original? He already played that Belieber card at the Anne Frank Museum); spent hours in a Brazilian brothel before he and a friend left with two women; allegedly threw eggs at his neighbor’s house, causing a reported $20,000 worth of damage…with eggs; and then, last week, drank too much, took some Xanax, smoked some pot (although not necessarily in that order), went drag racing, and, when the police finally caught up to him, resisted arrest.

As an aside, Bieber has hired attorney Roy Black to handle his DUI case. I thought this Roy fellow was only famous for being Mr. Leah Black of Real Housewives of Miami fame, but apparently he’s a bit of a badass lawyer to the stars as well. Who knew?

Justin Goes to Jail 

Anyway, it was after this latest arrest that I decided he had warranted himself a little ATG love. But before I could even begin my judgmental ramblings, The Biebs ended up back in the news after turning himself in to Toronto police on Thursday. I’m sure you’re wondering what in the world such a sweet young boy could possibly have done to have the Mounties on his butt. Well let me tell you: He allegedly assaulted his limo driver – hitting him in the back of the head several times – back in December. Given his choir boy past, it’s hard to beliebe that The Biebster would make such a bad choice, but it’s looking like it could be true. So true, in fact, that a petition was started on the White House website requesting that Canada’s biggest embarrassment (sorry, Celine) be deported back to his native land. A petition that’s already topped 100,000 signatures.     

This kid is a mess, like an Amanda Bynes, Lindsay Lohan, Britney Spears-before-she-got-drugged-up kind of mess. He needs help, the kind of help he’ll never get because he’s a meal ticket for too many people. The way I see it, his butt needs a little less kissing and a little more spanking. Maybe he’ll get that desperately needed dose of tough love from Tiny, his 300lb cellmate.

Fingers crossed.

And now, I must post this blog quickly before The Biebs does something else royally stupid and everything I just wrote becomes yesterday’s news. But keep your eyes peeled. The Justin Bieber Bad Decisions Tour may soon be making a stop in a city near you.