the S.S LiLo cruises into the harbour...

 ... and instead of the toothless pirate wench we've seen in the media lately, we see this classy specimen:

 It might just be my fetish for retro housewives and 50's nostalgia or the fact that i've been secretly rooting for LiLo's comeback... or simply the fact that she was probably my first ever pre-pubescent celebrity crush when I first saw The Parent Trap as a kid... regardless, these snaps for Vanity Fair (by photgrapher Norman Jean Roy) are stunning.

Check them out here: http://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/features/2010/10/lindsay-lohan-issue-slide-show-201010

Call her a talentless, party-whore, washed-up Paris Hilton wannabe all you like, but she's seriously beautiful in these shots. Like, Miranda Kerr beautiful (ok... almost).

But it's pretty damned obvious - this isn't the beginning of a leisurely, sun-soaked cruise for Lohan. It's an all-out strategic naval mission to save her career, all canons blazing.

“I don’t care what anyone says. I know that I’m a damn good actress" she tells Vanity Fair.

Fair enough Linz, I admire your self-confidence. But I don't think you should worry too much, you'll always look lovely draped across a deck and really - what more could a woman aspire to?

the arrival

I'm no thespian, but i'm currently part of a performance for this year's Melbourne Fringe Festival - Mutation Theatre's production of "The Arrival", inspired by Shaun Tan's hugely-popular illustrated book of the same name.

It tells the story of a lone traveller who's forced to sail across the seas, leaving his home country in order to find a new life in a strange and alien world.

It's not an overtly-political show, but it does carry an empathy for the plight of what we now comfortably call "the boat people". With our current, shameful approach towards dealing with asylum seekers and the saddening events unfolding at Villawood Detention Centre (a Fijian man jumped to his death during a protest at Villawood earlier this week), The Arrival is a truly relevant piece of theatre.

This segment from last night's Gruen Transfer reminded me of an important message - the fact that boat people are real people, not faceless hordes seeking to threaten our livelihood.

The Arrival runs from the 22nd to the 26th of this month. Further details and tickets available here:
http://www.melbournefringe.com.au/fringe-festival/show/mutation-theatre-presents-the-arrival/
Or you can call the Fringe Festival box office on 9660 9666

bringin' fairy back

Thanks to the magic of Surfthechannel.com, I caught the season three finale of HBO's vamp-porn drama True Blood last night.

I'm won't lie - it was pretty disappointing compared to previous seasons. Also, I couldn't help thinking that the usually fresh, edgy show has "jumped the shark" a wee bit, what with the ridiculousy amped-up presence of "supernaturals" crowding the screen time (vamps, werewolves, shape-shifters, witches... it's all getting a bit too Buffy for my liking).

And in the second half of the latest season they decided to throw the "F" word into the mix - fairies. Turns out the show's hero, Sookie Stackhouse, is the result of a human-fairy love-in centuries back. Sookie's reaction to this revelation was, i'm guessing, indicative of the audience's response: "How fuckin' lame!".

However, will True Blood be able to sex-up fairies, just as it managed put the fang into vampires? I foresee magic mushies, Elven orgies and a lot of woodland nudity.

 

Maybe we'll finally find out what's under Tink's little leaf-dress? Ohh yeah

recruiting planeteers, enquire within

 Just saw The Last Airbender. It was a bit of fun, but the entire time I couldn't help but long for Captain Planet: The Movie.

No, i've scoured the interwebs and a feature-film spin-off of the 90's cartoon series is yet to be on the horizon (when I say "scour" I really just mean I had a squizz on IMDB).

In my opinion, the world is ready for that blue-skinned, green-mulleted, lycra-clad groover and his Green values to return. 

Screw carbon trading schemes, we need Captain Planet and his new-wave "the power is yours!" attitude.

VMA's: homogenised, pasteurised and vegan

 The MTV Video Music Awards has always prized itself on being the naughty young up-start of the awards world (see the Madonna/Britney pash several years ago and Kanye West vs. Taylor Swift last year).

However, watching the 2010 VMA's last week reminded me that America's notion of "controversial" remains as white-bread and PC-friendly as ever.

The way Usher sang "Oh my gosh" did it for me. Is singing "God" in a song really too confronting for an MTV audience, considering most contemporary pop-hip-hop songs feature lyrics like "just show me where your dick at"? (I never thought i'd quote Ke$ha...)

And the reaction to Gaga's already infamous "meat dress" is another tell-tale sign of America's ridiculous double-standards. So, it's ok for pop stars to writhe about near-nude, drying humping and pulling pornstar poses but when it comes to a pop star wearing a dress made out of meat - apparently that's a no-no.

No, anyone who attempts to step outside the square is instantly barbecued by a painfully boring media.

Anti-animal cruelty organisation PETA has crucified Gaga for her sirloin ensemble, but as she explained shortly after appearing on the VMA's, her wardrobe choice was in no way taking a swipe at animal rights. People eat meat, wear leather, cut down forests, pillage the seas... but when we're confronted with images of our own consumerist nature we lose the plot (see Gaga's Telephone video and it's deliberate use of product placement).

Yes, she looked hideous, but when has Gaga ever been about conforming to female stereotypes? As she told Ellen shortly after the VMA's "i'm not a piece of meat!".

single white man-flower seeking good looking honey-bee

 I've been sprung by Spring. The sunshine's a-shining, the icy chill of the Melbourne Winter is already fizzling away and, well... things just look nicer (apart from myself of course. Unlike saucy Mother Nature, my seasonal transformation doesn't look like it's going to be as swift. My pasty, ghost-face complexion and gloomy Winter laziness will take a little while longer to exorcise).

For me, Spring means getting amongst it. Just like those randy flowers pollenating all over the joint, I need to get my petals out into the sun, show off my stem and get myself a bit of attention from a honey-bee or two. But this time, i'm pulling up my roots and working the garden a bit more than I usually do. Too long have I been relying on my flowery man-perfume to attract girls.

Recently I've found myself complaining too much that I only ever attract mediocrity. I realise i'm going to come off as cocky, but my tastes are pretty gourmet when it comes to the opposite sex. If I want to get off the pub-fare and tuck into something a little more haute cuisine, i'm going to have to stop relying so much on attracting and focus on getting out the insect-catcher.

And if all else fails... I can work the streets with the best of 'em.

 

clairvoyeur

Mother Pickle, who's usually quite the sceptic, recently took a friend's advice and saw a medium (aka. psychic, clairvoyant, fortune-teller, gypsy-shaman... call them what you will).

During a mother-son phone-call earlier this week, she told me all about the experience. Usually going to see a clairvoyant is a pretty self-indulgent affair. Basically, it's just another excuse to talk about yourself for an hour. But mama was kind enough to ask him about me (although, she probably phrased it "so how's my brat son going to fuck up this time?").

Apart from the stuff my mum probably already new about me ("hmm... yes, he's very strong-willed, isn't he?" I can hear him saying now), he also said that at age 25 something big (in a good way) will happen to me. Apparently then is when my full potential will begin to burst forth and bring me success, like some kind of beautiful alien monster bursting forth from my chest.

Inspiring? Hmm... not really. So basically I have to sit on my arse for the next 5 or so years and wait for fortune to come my way. What a drag...

well hung

In this tumultuous political climate, with the ridiculously-dubbed "hung" parliament hanging over our ignorant heads like a juicy dangler, I tackle the BIG questions... because i've always been about big, in-depth political discussion on Teddy Pickle.

On today's homepage for The Age, I read the amusing headline "Indies to back Labour". So, the feeling is that these enigmatic "Independents" (which includes a ridiculous oil-tycoon-wannabe in a cowboy hat) will end up supporting Labour rather than Coalition.

That's all very well. But will the "indies" back Labour? And by indies I'm referring to the much more commonly accepted term describing those who live in Brunswick, shop nowhere else but "op" and proudly roll their own cigarettes.

 I wonder who this indie would support? Actually this is Jean-Pierre B. (jeanpierreb.blogspot.com) from The Netherlands, so I doubt he'd give a fuck

I asked several of my indie-est friends the big question (via Facebook, of course. As if I could be bothered tramming all the way to Brunswick! It's another world up there). Though most of them (like the rest of us under-30 Melbourne voters) voted for the Greens, their answer was a resounding "Labour!".

So there you have it - the Indies and the indies will reportedly back Labour.

Now, on to the metro, bogan and emo demographies...

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In some completely unrelated news, here's Lady Gaga looking rather indie in a pair of faux-specs, a trademark look of the indie-subculture: 

Teddy Pickle - the blog that backs-up political discussion with vapid references to Lady Gaga.

i told you i'd be rich one day...

Ok so getting an audition for game-show "Millionaire Hot-Seat" doesn't exactly mean that I should go out and get a Maserati just yet, but i'm thrilled nonetheless.

Like any audition, i'm going to have to impress these people somehow. Whether it's with dashing boyish charm, a sob-story about my dying mother in Slovakia or by rolling into the audition room in a rusty wheelchair, i'm going to get on the show whether it kills me.

 (I could always pull out a bit of Flashdance if all else fails...)

Now, if I do happen to pass the audition -I hope I can be as cool as Snoop Dogg in this episode of the US version of Millionaire Hot-Seat .

the killer inside me

The other night I got a chance to see the new film "The Killer Inside Me", starring Casey Affleck, Kate Hudson and Jessica Alba.

Without giving too much away, it's one of the most confronting, gut-wrenching yet beautiful and interesting films i've seen for ages (how a film featuring a scene that shows Jessica Alba quite literally getting her face bashed in can be called "beautiful", don't ask. Maybe because it's set in 1950's America. Gratuitous violence aside, they kept damned nice households!)

It's told from the point of view of a deranged young dude (played perfectly by Casey Affleck, the "indier" of the Affleck boys). You simultaneously want to spit in this guys face and give him a hug. You see him mess people up and, in flashbacks, see why he's so messed-up himself. He's no victim, but you can still sympathise with him.

We always want to know what makes a monster, but sometimes they just are and they really, really can't help it.