Jennifer Aniston must have a new movie out. I only say this beÂ¬cause she is on the cover of yet another magazine, naked (or one spaghetti strap away from being so). Iâ€™m not judging her on this, just pointing out her unique superpowers. She has that every-day, girl-next-door appearance that makes women think she could be their friend, and the appropriate physicality to make men think that they actually want to sit through luke-warm comedies like The Break-Up (a neutered version of War of the Roses) and Heâ€™s Just Not That into You (yet another portrayal of women as nothing more than grating husband hunters and men as emotionally constipated dunderheads).
Anyhow, the only reason I bring this up is because last week, a friend and I were perusing Annistonâ€™s latest front-page foray into displaying her birthday suit.
â€śItâ€™s not fair that sheâ€™s so hot,â€ť my friend bemoaned.
This coming from a girl with a gorgeous complexion, eyelashes that would make a mascara model cry, and enough thick, bright red hair to hail down any hot-blooded male.
I always find it amusing how we â€śeveryday peopleâ€ť marvel over celebrityâ€™s attractiveness as if they were sprung from splendor like Botticelliiâ€™s Birth of Venus. Not to say that a lot of them arenâ€™t born with the pretty gene, but we easily forget that itâ€™s their job to look good. After all, if you were making millions of dollars, you too could afford the personal trainer, spa days, chefs, and numerous other lotions and potions to slow Father Timeâ€™s Fox Trot on your face and body.
Iâ€™ll be honest; if some one were to fork over an Aniston-sized paycheck in my direction, Iâ€™d have no problem hitting the treadÂ¬mill like a hyped-up hamster on its wheel. For now, Iâ€™ll settle for guilt trips and revenge fantasies against Richard Simmons as proper workout motivation.
Plus, I like to think I burn a fair amount of calories glaring at my computer, willing it to upgrade (indulge me).
Superman! Batman! Abraham Lincolnâ€¦huh? Yes, the rumors are true! Honest Abe has joined the ranks of the spandex clad do-gooders. Marvel Comics launched a free digital comic featurÂ¬ing LinÂ¬coln. Titled Gettysburg Distress the six-page comic inÂ¬cludes Captain America and Spider-Man (nice celebrity cameos). The comic can be viewed at Marvel Digital Comics Unlimited.
And Iâ€™m pleased to announce that they did not draw Abraham Lincoln in spandex.
Though I did not pull this one from national headlines, I feel it needs to be brought up: could the elderly ladies who shop at our local Goodwill please, please, please, cover their mouths when they have to sneeze and cough. Unless hacking all over the merÂ¬chandise is part of your plan for keeping anyone else from taking advantage of the sales, put those germs in a hankie where they belong, not all over the cardigans.
In honor of Barbieâ€™s birthday (yes, the doll), the big names in the fashion industry, from Calvin Klein to Vera Wang and up-and-comers Rag and Bone, held a fashion show during Mercedes Benz Fashion Week in honor of the ageless doll, who gives a whole new meaning to the term plastic surgery. Unfortunately, the majority of the audience was little girls. Granted, Iâ€™m a fashÂ¬ion whore as much as the next textile-entranced female, but thereâ€™s something inside of me that just curdles at the thought of pre-pubescent girls watching rail-thin, hollow-eyed models strut down the runway in attire best suited for the beach or a Vegas Showgirl. Iâ€™m no prude by any stretch of the imagination, but shouldnâ€™t kids concentrate on, oh, I donâ€™t know, just being little kids?
Just a thought.
Hey, speaking of vices, mark your calendar for Ash WednesÂ¬day! In case you didnâ€™t know, in the Western Christian calendar, Ash Wednesday is the first day of Lent and occurs 40 days before Easter (excluding Sundays). It falls on a different date each year, because it is dependent on the date of Easter; it can occur as early as Feb. 4 or as late as March 10. So look to Wednesday, Feb. 22 kids, as we get ready to dive into Lent. Lent, in some Christian denomiÂ¬nations, is the 40-day-long liturgical season of fasting and prayer before Easter.
Why am I tooting this when Iâ€™m not even a Catholic, or overtly reÂ¬ligious? Because Iâ€™m thankful thereâ€™s at least one internationÂ¬ally recognized day out there that doesnâ€™t come with sappy cards, specially wrapped chocolates, or a CD filled with irksome songs by warbling celebrity looking to cash in.
Thank God, there are just some seasons you just canâ€™t sell with sex and materialism (all though Iâ€™m sure there are marketÂ¬ing execs out there who are trying).