'Southern Charm' Translates Into Day Drinking and General Philandering

The cast of Southern Charm, the only way you can tell this doesn't take place in Beverly Hills is that they are in a southern style mansion (or set) and the men are wearing three piece suits.

Bravo has definitely bled the Los Angeles area dry with all of their reality garbage from the OG Real Housewives of the OC to The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, to Vanderpump Rules, to Shahs of Sunset to...you know fuck it. But then they remembered that one of the most popular series of their Real Housewives franchise was the one in Atlanta bitches. So they decided to take that private jet with Andy Cohen's face on the sie of it back to the south and this time plant it in one of the oldest city in our sad little country; Charleston. A city I was only aware of after watching Gone With the Wind (1939). 

A Southern Gentleman...why? Because he's sitting on a yacht. 

In actuality, Charleston is steeped in an amazing history. They've kind of been in hibernation since they were founded back in the day (1600's) and live by those same principals (slavery and blatant racism aside). The Southern gentleman for the men, the Southern Belle for the ladies, the coming out parties, the mint juleps, sounds quite awesome honestly. Also, it's a beautiful place, you know from pictures I've seen. 

So this show is about rich people in Charleston, just like every other reality show on Bravo is about rich people, mostly in the Los Angeles metropolitan area, but this time it's pretty cool. It's like the new money of Beverly Hills meets the old standards and mannerisms of England that the settlers brought with them to the good ol' south. 

A real Southern gentleman. The British, Leslie Howard. 

I just remember it being hilarious and wonderfully ironic that in Gone with the Wind (1939) that takes place largely in and outside of Charleston, the iconic 'Southern Gentleman' character is played by the English actor Leslie Howard, because lets face it, there's really nothing gentlemanly about the Southern Gentleman for like forever now. They all have what one girl on the show described as perpetual Peter Pan Syndrome, and that's what we all look for in a man isn't it ladies? It's 10am and their pouring themselves a stiff whiskey with a twist while they adjust their tie for the polo match where they'll eventually drunkenly hit on your best friend right in front of you. As it's so eloquently put in the trailer; 'here in Charleston, they'll say 'bless your heart' and turn around and stab you in the back'. So now we get to look forward to old money making jackasses out of themselves, rather than new money doing that which is just so much more fun isn't it? And aside from the geography, that's basically the only difference between this show and everything else in the Bravo shit cannon. So happy watching! 

Who’s The Biggest Pervert on Arrested Development?

(Warning: Contains endless Arrested Development quotes) Let’s see, what do I do with my time? Like what do I watch how do I keep current? Well since I have a job (It’s something you apply for, and they pay you…) I only have about a couple hours a day. One in the morning when I wake up and get ready, and one in the evening when I get home. After I work out, and before I shower and eventually crash. So I leave those time slots open for my current sick obsession with everything Benedict Cumberbatch, so I’m watching Sherlock (2010 - Present), which I’ve already blogged about, so douche chill…

The only other show I watch is of course The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills (2009 - Present) because it makes me feel better about myself, though I have to watch it through a hole I cut in a paper plate because of all the HD shiny. As you know, I blog a shit ton about that show as well. So basically outside my office, I have those two things to tell me about the world around me. Skinny blonde bitches in Loubitins and ridiculously complicated and convoluted crimes in England that I’m too stupid to almost follow. But instead of silently saying a prayer that they combine the two shows and have one of the housewives found in a pool of her own blood  (I can’t say which one because ‘that’s a lawsuit’ but we all know who I mean) with Benedict standing above her saying something smug and demeaning, I’ll get back and go full circle (ugh, mixing metaphors) to the show I’ve loved the absolute most since it entered my muddy world and made it beautiful back in 2003; Arrested Development, which Netflix had the wherewithall to renew for a season showing exclusively on their website (Them?)

They’ve basically told everyone else to fuck off, even if it means them taking a chubby, they will suck it up. Now, let’s get out of our excited-as-fuck skirt and put on our thought-process Barbara Streisand in the Prince of Tides ass-masking pants suit.

I mean this is huge. The show was cancelled almost 7 years ago and we STILL talk about it. It’s probably the biggest hit cult series there is, and FOX execs are pieces of shit. I’m sorry, but you are. But let’s not dwell on our anger. I want to go through that beautiful magic of the first three seasons and decide finally who is the biggest perv of the series. And I’ll tell you one thing, it’s probably not who you’re thinking. 

You’re thinking GOB because he dates whores, underage girls, and throws freezing cold water over the shirts of his entirely female baseball team and almost always makes an impromptu sexual innuendo when speaking, but it’s not. That’s just part of his adorably ridiculous character, that even I’ve grown to love. 

Tobias' acting resume headshots

Next, you’re probably thinking it’s Tobias, because literally everything that comes out of his mouth is a sexual reference of some sort, usually attributed to the ‘is Tobias gay question’ that always lingers in the background. But hey, you didn’t get any body chocolate, and actually that’s not even his major arc so no dice on that one.

Then we have the idiot somewhat savant-ish brother Buster, who is one hell of a freak. He comes home sometimes at 7, 8 at night, peanut brittle on his breath, and builds pillow forts with Liza Minelli. I mean he’s a fraaaak. But he’s completely clueless. Remember when he was dating Michael’s rabid assistant and terrified when she wanted to take things to the next level? Mother complex or not, he’s an innocent. 

'my own brother...Michael'

Then of course we have Michael. The hopeless romantic who’s ‘sensitive like a woman’, and just can’t help himself when it comes to a gal with a giggly smile and a pair of soft blue eyes, the lack of sex with which would make anyone crave a 15$ thing of candy beans. But it is his romanticism that crosses him off the perv ladder, because all he’ll ever do to you in bed is hold you close and whisper shit in your ear and you’d get bored if not for the wondrous adorable-ness of him.

If you were thinking Lucille all along, then ding ding ding. You’ve won the grand prize, which is respect from me. Think of it, she’s the classic pervert, more so than any of the men in her life put together. She seduced not only George Sr. but his brother Oscar, and can basically make them do anything she wants (More touching!). She likes to go ‘downtown’ and being ‘lied on’ rather than ‘lied to’.  And that wink of hers could be the most perverted thing I’ve ever seen, but at least we don’t have to ‘say goodbye to these because it’s the last time!!!’ because I have no doubt we’ll be seeing them on Netflix soon enough. Now get me a Vodka rocks. But it’s breakfast? And a piece of toast. 

Her?

Honorable mention goes to: Kitty, George’s fiercely loyal assistant, Maeby for her obsession with idiot Steve Holt and unabashed attraction to her own cousin, Marla Michael’s assistant who was bitten by a rabid dog and has a cryptic attachment to Quincy Jones, and of course, Lucille II…because it’s Liza and that’s all I need. I leave you with the best of...

 

Come On British Press! Show Us Ye Olde Royal Peen.

The now infamous photos leaked by TMZ last week afterwhich the palace quickly threw a muzzle on the British Press, hence the kitschy red star on the right.

Come on British press, we all struggle. Just leak one or two we won't do anything with them, except photoshop them into oblivion and send them all around the interwebs with asinine memes posted underneath. But in all seriousness, we're just curious. We don't have a royal cock over here, so we just want to get a peak. Unless you're a sad sad cave person with stolen mannequins behind the alley at Macy's that you dress up and seat around your living room to pose as friends, you've heard by now that NSFW photos have been leaked to TMZ of a drunken romp Prince Harry had in Vegas before returning to combat training. Oh dear god, I hope the world doesn't collapse on itself. 

First of all, what's the big deal? He's third in line people. Which basically means, he's not in line. More than likely, he's never going to be king. But he's young, rich, and hot. So why not get in a naked hottub psuedo-orgy before you go defend your country in a foxhole in the goddamn desert with nothing but a dehydrated meal and your AK-47 by your side? You're in Vegas. That's what Vegas is for. Do you think anyone has ever not been naked in Vegas? I don't even think it's legal to be inhabiting a hotel room in Vegas with clothes on. It's a state law. 

If anyone gives me the whole 'royal duties' speech one more time I might projectively vomit all over them.

Cadets around the world give Prince Harry a naked salute. Cheers lads.

Prince Harry is a prince, but he's no where near needing to fulfill any 'duties' except be young, have fun, and be irresponsible. He's L'enfante terrible, the rogue brother. If one of the bro's has it down in terms of duty, take a break and go party in Vegas with naked sluts.

Of course the palace put a royal kibosh on the photos so now we can only see them with an unseemly Photoshopped 'star' over what i'm sure is a really toned royal ass.  The other picture, I get it, he's covering HIMSELF up, but there's something else their keeping from us, I can just feel it, no pun intended. Now it's being revealed that VIDEO footage exists of naked Harry's hairy bird. (Yay! the most unoriginal alliteration ever!) 

And I'm pretty good at rummaging the internet for 'lost' or 'leaked' celebrity video...no I'm not...and I couldn't find one single lead on this. I'm lost in the woods. I mean when the palace says 'no', I guess it really does mean 'no'. But hey, we have the Associated Press here in the States that would gladly crawl all over this like flies on shit. What? Did you think we have integrity? We follow Lindsay Lohan around for chrissake. There is no 'bottom line' to our celebrity press. And hey, it's not like he's our Prince, to us, he's just a hot guy who's got a lot of money, and is the bad boy of his family, and who on this side of the pond doesn't find that irresistible?

Watching Enough Oliver Stone Will Eventually Turn You Savage

'Is that soft core porn?' 'no, it's just Oliver Stone trying too hard.' 'oh well i'm sure it has the same low-quality shamelessness and sub-par performances'

What has Oliver Stone been doing to this country and the film industry for all these years if not pissing all over it? Like we needed any of his films to exists, honestly. Alexander (2004) was on BBC America the other day, and I was already not feeling too well and kind of down, after this was in the background for about an hour or so, I was ready to commit murder suicide. But don't think he's hanging up his alpha crazy hat just yet, even though he should have retired 20 years ago, because he's hired the youngest hottest actors in the biz to star in his new movie about pot-growers, cartels, and hot bitches in slutty bikinis. Nope, never seen that before. Thanks for the new outlook, Stone.

Aaron Taylor-Johnson is in there, you might remember him as the guy who played Kick Ass and young John Lennon before his cradle-robbing director, Sam Taylor-Wood hypnotized him and made him her sex slave...I mean they fell in love and got married, same dif. Then there's Taylor Kitsch from John Carter (2011) fame. Yawn. And of course, Serena Van Der Woodsen herself, Blake Lively as 'O' the ho-bag who's dating both of the men simultaneously, probably because of the free pot, and gets kidnapped by evil south-of-the-border cartels Benicio Del Toro and Salma Hayek. Can you predict what happens next? I'm going to say a few sensory-overload shootout sequences, lots of making out in the pool, and a graphic stab scene later, the heroes get the girl back, kill the cartel, and take over in Mexico. And one of them dies. Hopefully Taylor Kitsch.

Why I'm just a sweet little girl who's fucking two men at the same time. I never imagined I would be kidnapped because my two boyfriends pissed off a very hostile to begin with drug cartel. Tee hee.

The film is being marketed as a kind of millenial version of Natural Born Killers (1994) with the same degree of speed, violence, and blatant disregard for one's audience. So I'm expecting it to be just as obnoxious and un-sexy, but now with even more incessant noise. If there is a director out there, that is so obsessed with his films being 'sexy' and in the same breath is anything but, it would be Oliver Stone. There is not a film of his that exists that has ever turned me on no matter how gratuitous and graphic the fucking might be. It always comes off gross, and something I'd rather not have seen, and is always treated as a detrimental consequence for the characters involved. If there is one film I am not looking forward to seeing this year, and probably won't, because I want to spare myself the awkward shame of having to look the ticketing office in the face when I'm picking up a matinee for it, is Savages (2012). It looks like a cheap B-movie not even Verhoeven would touch, and now that I think about it, even though the plot is typically bland and predictable, if you gave this material to Verhoeven at least he might be able to do something interesting and campy with it. Alas, we are all stuck with yet another awful Oliver Stone film that we have to stomach, or at least sit through the TV spot every time we want to watch cute puppy videos on the youtubes. There it is, ruining our mood. Whomever is still putting up money for Oliver Stone to work in this town, please stop it. That well has been dry, not to mention insane for decades now.

Here's the trailer they've shoved down our throat for months. 

Top 10: Cinema Perverts

Paul Verhoeven.
We all remember where we were September 22nd, 1995.  The world would never be the same.  Dutch director Paul Verhoeven dropped a bomb on our puritanical asses, and all of us suddenly new what 'camp' meant. There are so many gem scenes from the stripper version of "All About Eve" (1950), that it's hard to pick just one. I would say my personal favorite is during Nomi's first rehearsal for the 'Goddess' show and her director keeps yelling at her to "Thrust it!" and now, I exercise like that all the time. From the bottom of my heart, Thank you Paul, and yes, I'm still waiting for the sequel.

Jack Smith.
"Flaming Creatures" (1965). Nuff said. But just to say a bit more, the legend who brought the absurd, the perverse, and the deliciously naughty to film, back at a time of conformity and censorpship, he was a true original whom directors emulate to this day. With his partner in crime, Mario Montez (who later worked regularly with Warhol) Smith brought what was at that time an underground culture into well...underground cinema, but he definitely left one hell of an impression on cinema and how we define sexual discourse. Cheers!

Todd Solondz.
The man who made us rethink about moving to the suburbs, Solondz has  been giving us an element of heart and sincerity with the unusual sexual encounters in white middle-class Anytown, USA. As we journey with Dawn Weiner through some of the most awkward experiences of sexual awakening in "Welcome to the Dollhouse" 1996, pictured above, we are probably all secretly thanking our lucky stars that our own experiences would never be interesting enough for Solondz to direct.

Alejandro Jodorowsky.
If you like your films with orgies, human sacrifices, cultish rituals and copious amounts of full frontal nudity, definitely put Jodorowsky in you Netflix Queue. Really any of his films would suffice, i personally recommend "The Holy Mountain" (1973), just picture a classier, sardonic version of "Caligula" (1979), but even more absurd. It's really quite an amazing experience. 

Christophe Honoré.
 

Ahh, a pick from the increasingly ridiculous New French Extremity movement, this director seems to shock for the sake of shocking and do not much more than that. One hell of a Freudian nightmare, "Ma mère" 2004 (pictured above) really takes it to new levels of fucked up shit. The poster proclaims it to be 'powerful...explicit and shocking', I agree with the last two adjectives, as for being powerful, I suppose it might be, as most of us aren't used to seeing Louis Garrell masturbate over his mother's corpse. 

Erich von Stroheim.
Though we all remember him as the creepy butler from "Sunset Blvd." 1950, in his directing days back in the 20's and 30's, he was quite the misogynist, usually incorporating themes of female foolishness and naivete into the subtext, and never shying away from innuendo or erotic symbolism. Some scenes probably made the censors take a closer look, as they were pretty suggestive, but apparently they let it slide, particularly in "Greed" (1922).

Andy Warhol.

Honestly, what would this list be without Warhol's voyeuristic experiments? The formula is basic really; make you interested in the attractive naked people involved, and have them engage in acts that would otherwise not include you. You and the camera eye become one. Simple. Its the quintessential definition for peeping toms.

Ken Russell.
Peter Townsend once told the media that his reason for choosing Russell to direct the film version of his magnum opus "Tommy", was because the director was 'English and nuts!' Indeed he is, in the best ways imaginable. He never fails to send us to new levels of sexual confusion, whether it's Tony Perkins use of a vibrator as a lethal weapon in "Crimes of Passion" 1984, or Ann Margaret orgasmically bathing in baked beans in "Tommy" 1975 (pictured above).

John Waters.
 He is the undisputed pope of filth. Even the seemingly PG "Hairspray" 1988, has its sexual inside jokes.  Planting the trash flag on cinema's dreary landscape way back when with "Pink Flamingos" 1972, this best friend we all wish we had doesn't show any signs of taking it down or cleaning it up, and we hope he never does.

Kirby Dick.
Kirby Dick established a reputation of going where no doc has gone before. This includes behind closed doors at the sessions of a sex surrogate, in "Private Practices: The Story of a Sex Surrogate" (1986), and the private toy collection of Bob Flanagan in "Sick: The Life and Death of Bob Flanagan, Supermasochist" 1997 (pictured above), Kirby Dick never shies away from the obscene, perverse, and absurd. More power to him.