I Would Marry...

Kevin Barnes!

Question...

Is Gael Garcia Bernal hot?

My opinion is yes, without question...but I know some silly people disagree. Are you one of them? Am I not friends with you anymore? What about his face do you not like, the handsome?

Trashley's Valentines! Simon Cowell!

America needs Simon Cowell.

Sadly, you and I were raised in a society that teaches children they can achieve anything in the world if they believe they can. Actually trying may or may not come into this. Every kid is destined to be a singer, a baseball player, the President, or an astronaut because if they dream hard enough for it, it's going to come true.

Bullshit. There's nothing wrong with having ambitions, but to try to make it all the way through life holding onto the delusions of a seven-year-old because your friends, family, and quality children's programming lied and said you were good enough is totally unacceptable to me and the rest of the rational, mediocre world.

Those who hunger for fame deserve the hardest fall, and I couldn't be happier Simon is around to save us from ourselves. Everyone needs a verbal bitch-slap from reality every now and then, and Mr. Cowell does his absolute best to be as honest and straightforward as possible.

Those who try to fight back often accuse Simon of loving himself more than anything: not true. Simon Cowell loves money above all, and he knows what kind of performer will earn it for him. His self-awareness of his own shallow nature is what allows him to be so disdainful of people who pretend they're above the system (on an extraordinalry popular televised talent show). They tell themselves they don't NEED him to reaffirm their belief that they're great. They KNOW they are, which is why I guess they waited in line for hours for the chance to be judged. But the damage has been done. The dream is shattered. We, as a nation, are better for it.

I'll probably never get over his questionable hair or taste in music, but those things don't matter. Simon says exactly what I'm thinking (in a nice British voice), and that's why he's my Valentine. I love those that are most like me.

Trashley's Valentines! Awards Season!

My only abstract concept Valentine (unless you count John Waters), Awards Season is the early part of every year when statues get polished, out-of-touch voters get righteous, actresses get bulimic, and E! gets hard.

Does anyone still pretend innovation and talent is rewarded? The Grammys were on a few days ago, and the only parts of it I remember were Red Hot Chili Peppers winning Best Rock Album (I guess) and the Dixie Chicks winning a ton of shit because of a sentence the lead singer said in London like, three years ago.

It's really not a big deal to me that the television, movies, and music I love aren't given any kind of recognition for the genuinely good work they produce - would I make Awards Season a Valentine if it was? No, the great thing about these shows is you can always count on celebrities to display the best of their worst. You want self-important political statements? Gorgeous gowns and jewels the rich don't have to pay for? Poorly-scripted bumper dialogue read in a stilted, self-conscious manner? Drunken veterans who don't care? Memorial montages? Oh man, Awards Season presents these treasures with pleasure.

Take in the pre-show. Drink during the ceremony. Bemoan your local affiliate's attempt at coverage. Read the blogs the next day. Buy the magazines the next week. Take in your fill, because it's all you're going to have for the rest of the year.

Trashley's Valentines! Jeremy Kyle!

Heartbreakingly, most of you won't know who Jeremy Kyle is, and YouTube has no examples of his God-given talents as mediator, voice of reason, and judgemental bastard. I've tried to describe the style of his talk show many times, but can't quite find the right comparisons - the closest I've been able to come is he has guests the caliber of Ricki Lake (double V-Day shout-out!), yet he possesses the attitude of Dr. Phil.

But with Jeremy, there's something more. The setup of his show features a different topic for every segment between commercials, which should (in theory) revolutionize the genre of daytime talk trash. In the space of an hour, you can be confronted by pathetic teen runaways, men who dispute paternity claims, and desperate alcoholic grandmothers crying out for help.

I'm totally in awe of the way he handles his guests. Casually lounging on the steps of the stage, he'll try to have a serious one-on-one with these about their problems before raising his voice and leaping to (usually valid!) conclusions. Most people who host these kinds of shows attempt to show solidarity with the people they have on the show. Maury and Sally Jessy are pleased as punch to act a fool, but not Jeremy. He knows they're trash(!), and makes no bones about judging them.

Jeremy Kyle is a smug bastard. Jeremy Kyle is a little bit handsome. Jeremy Kyle is the king of stating the obvious to the most retarded people in the north of England, and for all these reasons, I love him.

Trashley's Valentines! John Waters!

And speaking of camp...I mean, how could you think I wouldn't be influenced by John Waters? My favorite movie when I was 11 was Serial Mom, and his is certianly the kind of trash I've learned to appreciate more as I've grown older. He is who he is and he does what he does. He can make Ricki Lake and Baltimore seem kind of cool. He can make Johnny Depp star with Traci Lords & Ricki Lake. He could probably make me do anything he wanted (eat dog poo?) if he asked really nicely.

John Waters encourages you to smoke. And that's just brilliant.

Trashley's Valentines! Jennifer Tilly!

Jennifer Tilly doesn't receive nearly the amount of respect she deserves. In addition to being a total bombshell born in the 1950s, she's the only Academy Award nominee I can think of who can out-trash Gina Gershon - and that bitch was in Showgirls.

Trash is not a pejorative, of course. Trash means embracing the camp and taking no prisoners. Trash is Bound. Trash is Bride of Chucky. Trash is making cheesy adult films and simultaneously having a successful career doing voiceovers for children's movies. Trash is deciding you're rich enough and really enjoy poker, so, fuck it, you're going to lay off acting and play semi-professionally.

Jennifer will always have my love and be my Valentine, because I respect who she is, what she does, and her beautiful, beautiful breasts.

Trashley's Valentines! Robbie Williams!

My love of Robbie Williams is not about his looks. It's not about his music, either. It's about his tenacity, and his single minded pursuit of a dream: America.

If he's known to Americans at all, it's a casual acquaintance. Oh, he's that former boybander who wrote the Jessica Simpson song. He made that weird video where he rips off his skin. He's yet another celebrity to battle with addictions in and out of the public eye. (In fact, he just went back to rehab - on his 33rd birthday.)

Robbie Williams is more popular in parts of Europe than I care to acknowledge, but his acute awareness that the United States just doesn't give a fuck has pushed him to try to break over in the States for damn near ten years. Ten years.

You'd think he'd have learned by now that we don't take to kindly to Europop over here, no matter how mainstream the music actually is. Americans currently want their British music to come over in ballads (Coldplay, James Blunt), rock (Franz Ferdinand, Arctic Monkeys) or NOT AT ALL. But Robbie won't have it. He's going to coke himself up for the next 20 years because he just wants us to listen, and I think it's time we finally gave him a chance.

Finally

The World (by "World" I mean "United States") Series is finally over, and that means I can return to my regularly scheduled Fox programming.

Which is pretty much "House."

There are so many questions I need answered...Will Foreman continue to be awesome? Will Cameron finally grow up? Will Chase speak?

Alone and 64

I am loving this McCartney divorce! Now I could be wrong, but the latest update is Heather Mills taped or recorded conversations where Paul was beating her? Or maybe calling her names? Well, it doesn't matter because normal people do not go into arguments with a tape recorder handy, unless you're thinking about divorcing your billionaire husband.

She wants £100 million ($ 186 million +) but may get only 2, according to The Sun (one of my favorite tabloids). Clearly the problem is she overreached. £50 million should have been the starting point, fool. I hope Sir Paul of Wings beat you with your own wooden leg.

Find It!

I've never been one of those people who can tell you what their favorite movie is. There are plenty of films I like, and they are all good in their own special way, but now, at long last, I have found my Favorite Movie Ever.

Beyond the Valley of the Dolls.

It is, without question, the greatest film ever made. It's got everything I've ever wanted a movie to have - killer dialogue, snappy clothes, groovy music, sex sex sex, drugs drugs drugs, parties, voice-overs, montages, lesbians, boxers, bad accents, decapitations, a slutty character with my name, and most importantly - literary allusions.

Literary allusions.

If you've never seen it, please do your life a favor and buy the DVD. Watch it. Love it. Live it. It has my official endorsement. You'll thank me later.

Omigod

Uncle Nick has created a totally cute apron for Bravo's "Top Chef." I assume you can purchase it (for me) on their website.

Good Idea? Bad Idea?

Rumor is my girl Scarlett is going to release an album of Tom Waits covers. While there is no doubt of her street cred in my mind, I really can't decide if this is a good thing or not. I'll still love her, though. No matter what.