The Auction’s Over. The Cow’s Been Bought.

He must’ve liked it because he finally put a ring on it.

That’s right, friends, after seven(ish) years and six kids together, Brad and Angelina are finally getting married (you can decide for yourself which one’s the cow) and I, for one, couldn’t be happier. I’ve lost so much sleep agonizing over “will they or won’t they?”. 

Going to the chapel

But, we can all breathe a sigh of relief now because it appears that they will. At the very least, a down payment has been made in the form of a diamond ring. Have you seen this thing? It’s been reported that Mr. Brad Pitt designed it himself. To this I say, stick to acting, Brad. Seriously, am I the only one who finds it slightly disappointing (read: ugly)? Sure, it’s huge and probably cost as much as a small country or Lindsay Lohan’s court fees, but I think it’s just plain unattractive. 

The offending ring

To me, it’s reminiscent of 80s home décor. It reminds me of those rooms you see on home makeover shows—the ones that have been decorated with mirrored walls and gold flecks in their popcorn ceilings—you know, the BEFORE picture. But, as Countess LuAnn says, money can’t buy you class; and it also can’t buy you taste. Don’t worry, though, Brad, you’re in good company. Have you seen Kate Middleton’s engagement ring? Yikes.

It does raise the question, though, what’s the appropriate protocol if your significant other presents you with a hideous engagement ring? What do you do? Do you have to pretend to love it, especially if he/she designed it specifically for you, or can you be honest?

Actually, do you think it’s even possible to view an engagement ring from your love with an unbiased eye; or is it like kids, you love your own even if no one else does?

Considering she’s got a hideous ring and a million kids, I just hope for Angie’s sake that her eye is as biased as they come.

What Goes Around Comes Around

Here’s a little tidbit you can file under Ironic. It actually happened last year, but was recently brought to my attention and was just too juicy not to share with all of you.

Stop me if you’ve heard this…

Remember Chris Hansen? The Dateline guy who uses hidden cameras to catch internet perverts; perverts who arrive at a house expecting a Biblical encounter with girls and boys of all single-digit ages and instead find a middle-aged man in a suit? You know, the To Catch a Predator guy. Yeah, turns out he was cheating on his wife and was caught. With a hidden camera.

   It always feels like, somebody's watching me...  

That’s right, fellow lovers of irony, the National Enquirer caught the investigative journalist on an illicit date with his Floridian conquest, whilst his wife (and mother of his two children) spent the night alone at their family home in Connecticut. Hansen was in Florida covering a “case” (code word for “bedding a bleach blonde who’s using you to further her career”) and allegedly started taking up with the former NBC intern.

Real. Classy.

Does it strike anyone else as odd that the man whose entire job revolves around hidden cameras, failed to consider the fact that he, too, could be the victim of such a ruse?

Let this cautionary tale be a lesson for us all: Don’t ever do anything wrong. And if you do, sure as heck make sure there’s no one there to document it.

I think I’ve just saved us all a little, or a lot (I’m not pointing any fingers), embarrassment.

You’re welcome.

Cry Me a River

Well, folks, we have a new prayer intention to add to the list. Sure, there are families that can’t afford to put food on the table or gas in the car. And, yes, children are left orphaned and alone every day at the hands of senseless violence. And, of course, there’s still that pesky little problem of unemployment and extraordinary debt for so many of us. But forget all that. You know who has real problems?

Katy Perry.

Auditioning for the role of Smurfette, Katy?

 

Her life is just so, so difficult. Why, you ask? Well, you see, it’s just SO HARD being famous. And, according to an interview she recently gave to Teen Vogue, she’s tired of it! In fact, she said that she found fame to be a “disgusting by-product” of what she does. To this I say, cry me a river, Katy Perry.

(Sidebar: Does anyone else find it ironic that she was complaining about being famous in a mass-marketed magazine? If you don’t want to be famous, stop courting attention. Am I wrong?)

Here’s the thing about fame: It pays your bills. Let’s not get it twisted, Kate, you’re not that talented and your songs are really stupid; if it weren’t for that disgusting by-product, as you call it, you’d be singing for quarters on subway platforms. Lucky for you, talent is not a prerequisite for being famous—just ask the Kardashians—and, therefore, you’ve been able to carve out a lucrative career for yourself. Imagine how tough it would be if you didn’t look like a pin-up and actually had to rely on talent alone. Scary, I know, but it’s the reality for many people—you know, like real musicians.

Oh, and one more thing, love, perhaps if you’re tired of all the attention that comes with being famous, you should reconsider the blue hair. Hair colors not found in nature are never a good choice when trying to blend in.

And now that I’ve said all that, please know that this is the absolute last bit of attention I’ll be giving you or your “career.”

After all, I know how much you hate it.

I’ll Have What She’s Having

As you know, we here at ATG hate to judge people (*cough*) but some people just make it so easy. One of those people is Samantha Brick. She’s been getting lots of publicity lately for an article she recently wrote for the Daily Mail entitled, “Why women hate me for being beautiful.”

One of the many problems with an article like this is that you automatically set yourself up to be ridiculed. No matter how beautiful a woman you are, bragging about that beauty isn’t going to earn you many friends. (Trust me. I know.) In fact, it does the opposite; it inspires people to automatically—consciously or otherwise—start picking you apart and focusing on your flaws. Such was definitely the case for Ms. Brick.

A popular sentiment through many of the comments on Ms. Brick’s editorial was that perhaps the Mail had put pictures of the wrong woman with the article. Ouch. Below is one of the pictures that ran with the piece. What do you think?

Has she unseated Kate Middleton as the "most beautiful woman in the world"?

She’s by no means ugly, but her entire article focused on how men are constantly showering her with compliments, gifts and job promotions because of her breathtaking beauty, and how women hate her for it. She then wrote a follow-up article stating that all the negative comments she had received just proved her point: women are jealous, hateful beings. This argument was flawed for one giant reason: a large percentage of the negative comments were from men.

(She then went on to compare herself to Angelina Jolie, something that did nothing to win back the friends she’d lost.)

Separated at birth? Uh, I don't think so.

In her defense, I caught the tail-end of a television interview she did, and she was much more attractive in living color. Perhaps photographs just don’t highlight her beauty. Perhaps she’s incredibly charming and enchanting in real life. Perhaps she really does have a truly sparkling personality.

Unfortunately for her, neither her interior or exterior beauty shone through in these articles.

A Judgment-Scented Potpourri: Royal Edition

In case you haven't heard, Kate Middleton and her husband have taken yet another lavish vacation. Several months ago they were lauded for their decision to not take an expensive ski trip. They did this, they said, to stand in solidarity with the rest of the world, a world that’s struggling to simply put food on the table and coal in the stove.

A week later they jetted off (First Class, mind you) for a vacation in Mustique.

At least they adhered to the language of their proclamation, if not the spirit.

 Kate & William Middleton (with Kate's siblings) on their non-ski vacay. 

 

It was unfortunate timing for the other guests on the island, however, as they were denied use of certain amenities and limited-entry to others, in an effort to protect the Middletons’ privacy. Absolutely ridiculous. If they want privacy, they should stay home, not commandeer an island that others have paid good money to have use of. Besides, when have the Middletons ever wanted privacy? They’re not exactly known as being camera shy, if you know what I mean.

When the “privacy-hungry” group returned from their Caribbean vacation, William left for a six-week deployment in the Falklands and Kate returned to her job of being skinny and having shiny hair—with a public appearance thrown in here and there for good measure. Then, last week, after William’s return, they went…wait for it…

SKIING!

The good news is, they went with the Middletons, who allegedly paid for both trips--which means that the trips weren’t, allegedly, funded by taxpayers.

At least there’s that.

These trips have not, however, done much to counteract Kate’s newest moniker, Duchess Dolittle (which, can I just say, I’m incredibly disappointed in myself for not having created) or William’s reputation for being anti-royalty--or, at the very least, frustrated at not having been born just a regular chap. You see, there’s a rumor that’s recently been building steam, a rumor that says William is much more anxious to become a Middleton than to become a king, and those rumblings were anything but quieted when he chose to miss the Queen’s memorial celebration for her late mother and sister in order to go skiing with the in-laws.  

I understand that the grass is always greener, but I sure have trouble pitying someone whose grass is littered with golden opportunities. And diamonds.

_________________________

In case you haven’t heard, the Queen has quite a few grandchildren whose names are neither William nor Harry. One of those grandchildren, Peter, son of Princess Anne, became a father for the second time on Wednesday when he and his wife, Autumn, welcomed another daughter. Congrats to the happy—and rapidly growing—family! 

By the way, William and Kate, this is what we call a good reason to miss the memorial celebration.

__________________________

In case you haven’t heard, we here at ATG love us some Prince Harry. We especially love the Sweet Ginger Prince when he decides to bust a move. In the street. At 3am. To only the music in his head.

  Harry offers an invitation across the nation for dancing in the street.   

And, yet, he’s still (arguably) a better choice for king than the two men ahead of him in line. What does that tell you about the fate of the monarchy?

Dancing King

So, Dancing with the Stars premiered Monday night. Normally I don’t watch the show, mostly because I find that their use of the term “star” is about as loose as Kim Kardashian’s moral code, but this season I may have to make an exception. Why, you ask? Two words: Donald Driver.

  The face that launched 1,000 (+) votes    

Oh, yes, my friends. The man with the smile that would make Farrah Fawcett jealous is now also a dancing fool. Fortunately, he’s had some rug-cutting practice, thanks in large part to his innumerable opportunities for touchdown dances and Lambeau Leaps as a Green Bay Packer. I’m obviously fairly biased—as Donnie Boy is without question my favorite Packer—but I thought he gave a respectable debut performance, especially compared to the other football players who have danced their way to victory on the show. Actually, I find it rather odd that NFL stars do so well on this show considering a large part of their success is viewer votes. I have a hard time imagining hardcore football fans also being hardcore DWTS fans—trading their beer cans for tap shoes—but what do I know? 

Now that we’ve established that I have no idea what I’m talking about, let me tell you one more reason I think Double D has a good chance: He’s a man. Stick with me because it’s not as sexist as it sounds. The male stars always seem to have an advantage over the women. Why? Because the viewer’s eye is automatically drawn to the female dancer, be she star or pro. After all, the women are the ones in the blingy costumes, and let’s be honest, you just can’t compete with sequins. So, if your eye is automatically drawn to the sparkle, whoever is the best dancer beneath the sparkle has the best chance of winning, right? Right. And that, my friends, would be a female pro.

In closing, I would like to say to Donald’s partner, Peta Murgatroyd, on behalf of Mrs. Driver and myself, please keep your hands off our man. Ms. Murgatroyd got a little handsy with her partner during the reading of their scores Monday night—touching the Don’s chest and rubbing his stomach. I was incensed…for Donald’s wife, of course. In fact, if I see any drawback to Donnie Boy’s newfound DWTS fame it’s that a whole new fan base will now discover and love him. (How could you not love a man whose smile envelopes the entire television screen?)

   Donald (seen here with his handsy partner, Peta) is dancing his way into America's heart.  

So, hear this (and pass it on) ATG Nation: Hands and hearts off. I called dibs on #80 years ago…

for his wife, of course.

Helping you get over the hump

Because we all know Wednesdays are awful days...

Dance, baby, dance!

That Ginger Prince sure is a giver!!!