Thursday, March 18, 2010

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Uncle Oscar

9 March 2010

In the 1930’s when Margaret Herrick commented that a certain gold statuette looked like her uncle Oscar, she probably didn’t anticipate that 80 years later frock designers, coke dealers and limo companies would deliriously anticipate the night her uncle gets fingered by Hollywood’s elite.

But so it goes.

The 82nd Academy Awards have just finished and I thought it was choice. Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin were hilarious hosts and there was enough glitz, drama and trainwreckage to amuse me soundly.

Last year the Oscars were toned back in deference to the Credit Crunch. An Australian hosted for god’s sake. The kicks were lower, the jokes fewer and I think I saw the set on eBay.

But this year, like the CEO of your average merchant bank, they thought screw them all and went all out. There were feathers, a myriad of revolving sets and interpretative crumping in cardigans…..seriously.

Worst performance goes to the loud mouthed beatch who interrupted her co-collaborator for best documentary short and shrilled; “isn’t that just like a man to not let the woman speak….” Basically she Kanye’d his ass and was a dick.

Best speech to Sandra Bullock, she was moving, funny and mentioned tonguing Meryl Streep. I did feel I needed some insulin after seeing The Blind Side as it was so saccharine but she rocked, shiny dress and all. Jeff Bridges was a close second, I cried. But I’m a pussy.

And then the sisterhood triumphed with The Hurt Locker. People have been making a lot about Katherine Bigelow and James Cameron being pitted against each other but who cares that they were married for 3 years. She gives good film, I mean she directed Point Break. Yes a woman won for the first time but let’s focus on her arts, not her arse.

Now for her next film she’s cast Kate Winslet as an ugly autistic Vietnam vet with a sick dog. I reckon it’s a shoe in.
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The Bear Necessitites


2 March 2010

I hate camping. If god had meant us to camp he would have given us detachable colostomy bags. Pooing out of doors is nothing I have ever done, and proudly so.

Sure if I had one of those palace tents with verandas, porticos and a room for my shoes then I’d gladly raise my three fingered Girl Guide salute, but I’ve only ever had pup tents and it has always always rained.

The worst time being a music festival in Scotland when it not only rained, it pelted down like a Scotsman urinating after a stag do in Glasgow.

The field turned into a mud bath and I was forced to wear rubbish bags on my shoes but they were still ruined. Worse still they were Jimmy Choos.

OK, so maybe they weren’t, but that’s not the point.

Which is why I would rather watch Man vs Wild than participate. For a start my name is "Penny" and that will never do. "Bear" is the star of that show, so I would need to change mine to "Panther", "Gazelle" or "Three Toed Sloth".

Also, we may have been born in the same year but Bear was a special agent with British Forces and I wasn’t even Tawny Owl in the Brownies. If someone yells at me to "drop and give me twenty" I yell at them to "f" off. Discipline is required in battling nature’s elements, and the only thing I’m a disciple to is ensuring my nail polish matches my earrings.

I wouldn’t mind being dropped on a desert island, mind you. Just as long as a toilet, a cabana boy named Julio and an endless supply of pina coladas was dropped too. If they can organise a sound guy and a cameraman for Bear surely they could do a latino lover and some Bacardi for me?

I’ll send them an email and see.

Man vs Wild with Bear Grylls premieres Wednesdays beginning March 3 at 8.30pm on Discovery Channel.
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The Best Things in Life are Free

Fact File
New Series
S - Sexual content may offend
Comedy
C - Content may offend

24 February 2010

As an actor, I have an agent. Actually I have four. One for voice work, one for TV, one for corporate work and the webmaster at nzdating.co.nz.*

ANYWAY, I like to imagine my agents as constantly concocting ways to propel me towards the superstardom for which I know I’m destined. I am sure my picture is in their wallet, I am the wallpaper on their shiny Mac’s and their cellphone ringtones are undoubtedly my voice singing “FAME! I’m gonna live …” and so forth.

What I don’t imagine them doing is recounting for their boss’ pleasure what sexual endeavours their weekend entailed and whether or not they managed to score some “no-strings nobbing”.

But my agents don’t work for CMA in London as seen in UKTV’s latest comedy Free Agents. The boss, aka Anthony Head, has a mouth that makes Gordon Ramsay look like Brooke Fraser. He licks glass office walls, pelvic-thrusts the air and goads his staff into confessing “I’m as sexually sophisticated as a 15-year-old born-again Christian.” This is a slight departure from Head’s role as Giles in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, though there are quite a few mentions of wood … just no stakes.

I’d like to quote more dialogue here, but if I did “Outraged of Huntly” would have me shut down faster than you can say “That’s a moustache on a lady”. Suffice to say the opening episode has 3 “c” words and 55 “f” words. Choice.

And if anyone can answer the question posed; “What do women want if they don’t want anal?” feel free to email the BBC.

*Only kidding about that last one. I have Internet-dated, but I didn’t like the experience. Sure you might get a pash and some free drinks, but I was never sure if I fancied the guy or if he was just the least retarded person** that emailed me.

** Apologies to anyone offended by the use of the word “person”.

Free Agents screens Friday 9.00pm on UKTV.
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Our Precious


17 February 2010

I’ll bet there are a few people in NZ currently who wished they had a feisty lady detective on their case.

Alison Mau could set Precious Ramotswe of The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency on Woman’s Day. The editor will be returning from her Zumba class clutching three lattes and out will jump Precious, snapping pics and asking if those lattes are for an illicit lady friend of undetermined sexuality.

Paul Holmes wouldn’t need an electronic bracelet for Millie. Precious could just follow her in her old battered van, confiscating coldrex and delivering rousing speeches on feminine strength.

Phill Goff could hire her to find out where all the labour party approval points have disappeared to and I will hire her to find out what people voted John Key as NZ’s sexiest politician. I wish to buy them glasses as a gesture of good will.

I’d also like to hire her to find all the judges of Miss Waikuku Beach 1984, my non-inclusion into the semi-finals is a grievous ancient wrong which demands to be righted.

Still I think we would all have a job prising Precious away from her beloved Botswana. Just like Alexander McCall Smith, the originator of the incredibly successful series of novels that this new Vibe series is based on, Ms Ramotswe loves her country far too much to leave it for trivial NZ problems.

And hooray for that because the colourful escapades of Precious’ (Hip-Hop Diva Jill Scott’s) sleuthing is an absolute delight to watch compared with another Colmar Brunton Opinion Poll on which MP has the best butt.

The pilot, featured tonight, was directed and co-written by the late Anthony Minghella (The English Patient), co-written by Richard Curtis (Love Actually, Blackadder) and produced by the Weinsteins. There’s more pedigree in that line-up than in Prince William’s bald patch so I suggest you tune in to see Botswana and NZ’s newest Precious. That Ring one is soooooo 2003.

The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency screens Tuesday 9.30pm on Vibe.
NEW SKY COLUMN TO BE FOUND AT SKYTV.CO.NZ/PENNYONDEMAND


16 March 2010

Imagine….it’s late at night. You flop on the couch after a few bevvies. You hit play on the recorded episode of Grey’s Anatomy to see if Meredith might break up with Derek perhaps and then possibly, I don’t know, whine about it. Instead up comes an insemination special on Country Calendar.

AARGGHH your family member fecked it up AGAIN and you’re tempted to insert the remote with an elbow length rubber glove.

Which is why I found the addition of MY SKY to my life wondrous.

The lads in my flat were the instigators. Apparently there are some sports channels or something. They watch this thing called Football and apparently it’s quite big worldwide. I’m not convinced, but they enjoy watching people born everywhere but England fall over and pretend to cry.

I watch other delights. I’m not ashamed to say that my first series link (“…what just one button records the WHOLE series!”) was The Antiques Roadshow Highlights show. Britons saying things like “Oh goodness gracious how nice” when told their dog bowl is worth ten thousand pounds. Awesome.

I have also discovered the Nazi Channel…oh sorry The History Channel. I find myself scrolling through the Guide thinking "Hitler’s Dyslexic Dog" that sounds fascinating, I have to watch that. Not to mention "25 Most Sexiest Celebrity Dogs" on E! TV.

I have also banked loads of movies and I love the Classic Channels for their eclecticism. I’ll see your Godfather and raise you a Pretty in Pink. I just watched ET for the first time in 30 years and ok, you can practically see the wires on the flying bikes BUT I still cried, and Drew Barrymore on the cusp of her drug addiction steals the show.

So if you haven’t got MY SKY yet your life has no meaning. You too could sit for hours ignoring all of your responsibilities and enthralled to see if the Myth that watching too much TV kills you, is busted. Go on, you know you want it. Suggestions for the R button are The Hangover, QI with Stephen Fry AND Antiques Roadshow…always.