Cheeseburgers in Paradise

Folks, I have big news. Like, really big. Earth-shattering even. Finally, after an excruciatingly long wait and many, many sleepless nights (just me?), the secret to Tom Brady and his lovely wife Gisele Bundchen’s supermodel bodies has been revealed.

And today, my friends, I’m going to share that very secret with you. It’s really going to change your life. Ready? The secret is…

Money.

Yes, the beauty and his wife have loads of those gorgeous greenbacks. And they spend at least some of them on a private chef who makes them delicious meals full of veggies, grass-fed steak, chicken and salmon. All organic of course. According to their chef, “If it’s not organic, I don’t use it.” The Brundchens also ingest no coffee - or caffeine of any kind - no dairy, and no tomatoes because, allegedly, they cause inflammation. Who knew? Apparently I’ve been eating crates of tomatoes in my sleep.

Other helpful hints? No sugar, white flour or MSG. What?! I think my brain might explode. When did sugar and flour become bad for you? Oh right, 1994.

The organically inclined Brundchens

So, if you win tonight’s Powerball, or for some other reason have the million dollars necessary to buy only organic foodstuffs, and, oh yeah, HIRE A PRIVATE CHEF TO COOK THEM FOR YOU, then you too could look like a supermodel. Or his wife. Obviously money doesn’t automatically give you a Sports Illustrated body (see: Oprah), but it certainly helps. And anyone who denies this fact has obviously forgotten what it’s like to be poor (see: Oprah).

Personally, I think this is a genius move on Gisele’s part. If you require your football-playing husband to subsist on a diet of quinoa and seaweed, then when he finally gets a little freedom – say, at an away game – he probably won’t be interested in cheating on you with a woman; he’ll be much more likely to cheat on you with a cheeseburger. Well played, Gisele. Well played.  

And speaking of lifelong marriages (or not), congratulations to former president George H.W. Bush and his lovely wife Barbara who are celebrating their 71^st wedding anniversary today. Those 71 years have surely been fruitful, producing six children (one of whom died of leukemia at age 3), eight years at Number One Observatory Circle, four years at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave., and eight years (which I’m fairly certain will be the only years; sorry, Jeb) as the parents of the occupant of 1600 Pennsylvania Ave.  

January 6, 1945

Congratulations again to Mr. and Mrs. Bush! May we all be so lucky as to find someone who loves us through 71 years of ups and downs – and who lets us eat the occasional taco. Or tomato.

Vegas, Here They Come!

Remember that confirmed bachelor Johnny Depp? The man who spent 14 years with the same woman and sired two children with her, but just couldn’t marry her? The free spirit who wouldn’t allow himself to be tied down by a government-issued piece of paper? Remember him?  

Well, he’s getting married.

To a lesbian.

Okay, so she’s probably not technically a lesbian if she’s marrying the old Deppster, but she was dating a woman when she and Johnny cheated on their respective partners met on the set of their film The Rum Diary. Of course, if you’ve seen Don Juan DeMarco or even Pirates of the Caribbean, it’s not so hard to see how a woman who’s into chicks could also be into this guy. With enough eye makeup, he’s kind of beautiful. (The same could probably be said for most of us).

Johnny and his daughter - sorry, fiancée - Amber

The woman slated to be the next Mrs. Johnny Depp, a title that I always thought I would hold (until he got old and gross), is actress Amber Heard.  Like I mentioned, they met on The Rum Diary set and, seeing as how they’re soul mates, have been inseparable ever since. (I may’ve made this last bit up.)

But before you use Edward's scissorhands to slit your throat in despair, you should know that it’s quite possible that these two won’t actually make it down the aisle. Johnny has a reputation (several, actually) for being a bit of a romantic. He’s known in some circles as being the “proposing kind” but not the “marrying kind.” Through the years he’s proposed to approximately 7,492 women - and even inspired a bumper sticker that read, “Honk if you’ve never been engaged to Johnny Depp” - but only married one of them. Maybe, though, Amber’s the one; the one he’s been waiting for this whole time. Maybe she’s lucky #2. Maybe she’s his golden ticket to marital bliss.

And speaking of golden tickets, Amber’s really scored on this one (and not just in the Biblical sense). Before her torrid heterosexual affair with one of Hollywood’s most leadingest men, there weren't that many people who knew – or cared – who she was. Now she’s the talk of the town. Or, at the very least, the topic of an ATG blog, which is a pretty big deal considering she’s not British, titled, or named Middleton.

If nothing else, this has been a great career move on her part, not that I’m saying that was her motivation. Maybe she really loves him. Maybe she can’t get enough of his unbathed, stale-smoke scent. Maybe she finds his quirks endearing as opposed to just really weird. Maybe they’re destined for a long and happy marriage.

And maybe my dear Johnny will finally win an Oscar this year.

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.

And the Spell Was Broken

In the interest of full disclosure, you should know that I’m not a “Twi-Hard” (shocking, I know). In fact, it was only because of a friend’s peer pressure that I finally broke down and read or watched anything Twilight-related. I will admit, however, that I was pleasantly surprised with what I encountered of the Twilight series. Until, that is, Breaking Dawn: Part 1.

(Halt: Possible spoilers ahead.)

Oh, where to begin? First, this movie felt much more like a telenovela than the interspecies love story that it was supposed to be. Truly, without all the music montages, pregnant pauses, sighing, deep inhaling, dramatic eye closing (I’m looking at you, Kristen Stewart) and never-ending monologues—presented for optimal effect with heart-wrenching mood music and slow zoom-ins with the camera—this movie could’ve been 45 minutes. And should’ve been. In fact, it took vampire-like strength on my part not to fast-forward through a large portion of it.

However, if I took you through every irritating aspect and unbelievable moment, we’d be here for as long as the movie felt (read: a long time). That said, there were a few things that just can’t be forgotten—or forgiven.

First of all, Bella’s wedding hair. Hideous. It was bulky, uneven around her face and—at one point—fell around her ears, giving her a slight Mr. Tumnus-from-Narnia look. I mean, c’mon, her hairdressers—Edward’s “sisters”—are like a thousand years old; haven’t they had time to perfect an up-do? 

Apparently "messy" is in this season.

Secondly, and this has been an issue for me from the beginning, WHY in the world do they cast darkly complected actors and then paint them white? It’s not a good look. And considering these vampires are supposed to be the most beautiful beings ever created, it really makes no sense. If I was Stephenie Meyer, I’d be significantly irritated that my vision was being so shamelessly distorted. (Although, I suppose those monster checks she's cashing ease the burn a bit.)

Nikki Reed (L) proves that she's actually an attractive human being when not in vampire mode (R).

 

Listen, I really am willing to overlook a lot. I won’t even mention the fact that K. Stew may be one of the most irritating actresses of all-time (although, she can cry like a champ—I’m talking Diedre Hall-caliber—I won’t take that away from her); or that as much as she bites her lip, she better have a Costco-sized tub of chap stick at home; or that somewhere between the second and third movie, Carlisle acquired some type of accent…but only sometimes; or even the erroneous implication that the actors playing the vampires are the most beautiful people on the planet. Hey, I understand that beauty is subjective and I’m willing to concede that some people may find this group attractive. It’s big of me, I know.

Nope, I won’t mention any of it.

What I can’t ignore, however, is the Darth Vader-inspired voices the werewolves employed while they were communicating telepathically. I hope the BD creators are big George Lucas fans; otherwise, this makes absolutely no sense and is so awful it’s not even comical, just cringe-worthy. It was perhaps the most ridiculous scene in a film ripe with them.

There were, however, some bright spots. I thoroughly enjoyed Anna Kendrick’s 15 seconds onscreen, as well as the special effects employed to show Edward’s venom spreading through Bella’s body. I assume the venom that Eddie injects Bells with is different than the “poison” that Real Housewives of New Jersey’s, Joe Gorga injects his wife with or this would be a completely different movie. That said, I had to remind myself periodically that this was a PG-13 film, as parts of it were fairly risqué. I’ll just say that I’m glad I wasn’t watching it with my mom and leave it at that.

But, despite all its faults—and there are a lot of them—there’s something about Twilight that warms the heart. Maybe it’s the family unity. Who wouldn’t want to be a part of the Cullen clan, aside from that undead thing? They stick together and protect each other at all costs.

Let’s face it, as much as I hate to admit it, the Twilight books—and, to a lesser degree, the movies—are a lot like Mexican food: they really stick with you, lingering until your last taste is a distant memory.

And, sometimes, they give you gas.