It’s time for me to come clean: today is my last day here at Evil Beet. I know! Me, too! I didn’t really mean to just spring it on you like this, but here we are.
I began at Evil Beet in June. Nine months and and a measly 570 posts later—and I am not kidding, 570 articles really is piddling, especially compared to the work your editors Sarah and Emily accomplish daily—I am suddenly a little wistful about leaving.
I began reading Evil Beet six years ago (OR MORE), and I became so attached to Sasha, Wendie, Kelly, everyone. This website has buoyed me through some dark Cubicle Days.
Writing for you has been a dream and a joy.
We had a lot of laughs, didn’t we? I came out of the gates strong with my story about Sean Bean. Who can maintain that kind of momentum? I sure didn’t. Oh, well.
I did consider attempting to make all my posts rhyme, but that fell through, too. Finally, I settled on writing a lot of hypothetical dialogue. So thanks for letting me use Evil Beet as a testing ground for all that. (I do regret not having Fred’s daughter produce more posts. I was onto something there. If you’re wondering, I totally paid the kid.)
The Monkees were a four-piece band assembled for The Monkees, the 1960s TV show. Jones and Dolenz split responsibilities as lead singer and frontman. Jones sang lead vocals on “Daydream Believer,” one of the band’s hits.
At the beginning the Monkees were, by all accounts, a “fake band,” but the Monkees fought the television show’s producers for more creative control. They eventually began playing their own instruments and writing many of their own songs, achieving a sort of artistic legitimacy.
Before joining the Monkees, Davy Jones was a horse jockey; he returned to racing horses after the Monkees disbanded.
According to his publicist, Jones died in his sleep.
Did you know that polycystic ovary syndrome is thought to affect as many as 10% of all women of reproductive age? It’s true! It is the most common endocrine disorder and the #1 reason many women have fertility issues.
If you have ever visited a doctor, his or her first line of defense—and he will prescribe this without actually testing you for cystic ovaries, just because it’s such a handy, efficient drug—is birth control pills. But what if you don’t have health insurance? Your pills might cost $75 every month! Maybe some months you buy birth control pills instead of toilet paper! Hilarious!
Oh, look, a video.
Among those playing the roles of the Middle-Aged Dudes who know all about women’s health are: Twin Peaks‘ Ray Wise! The dad from That 70s Show and Dead Poets Society! Parks and Recreations‘ Nick Offerman! (I’m not sure that Mr. Megan Mullally is quite “middle-aged,” but then again, I am old.) Plus, Tim Meadows, who is rocking some really radical 1960s NASA eyeglasses. Those glasses say “expert.”
And then there is Judd Nelson, who my friend Robyn briefly convinced me was dead. I was so upset, you guys. She was like, “Yeah! Years ago, I think!” and I was like, “Oh, my God, oh, my God, when was Suddenly Susan canceled anyway, oh, my God.” And then I was like, “Wait, are you thinking of David Strickland?” And now Robyn was very, “Um, I think I know who Judd Nelson is,” all indignant, and then I was mad with grief. I love you, Judd!
The video also features Corey Stoll, a stage actor about whom I am ten kinds of crazy. I almost didn’t recognize him without his Law & Order: Los Angeles mustache! YOU CAN PUT YOUR LAWS AND ORDERS ON MY BODY ANYTIME, COREY! Just kidding, you can’t, because I’m a feminist. (You are still nice to look at, however.)
This video is possibly NSFW thanks to a catalogue of euphemisms for ladyparts. However, the most disturbing of these “euphemisms”—uttered by none other than Ray Wise—is probably “tummy pockets.”
Ever see that video of Seth Rogen doing stand-up comedy as a 13-year old? OK, great. Because, oddly, it’s exactly the same as Seth Rogen now. Like he isn’t that funny! Sorry! Winning, yes. Charming, yes. Funny? Sigh.
That isn’t to say the man can’t land some zingers.
Here he is hosting the Independent Spirit Awards! I like the Spirit Awards a lot. You can hear people eating, and it’s very much more like prom. Seth Rogen curses a lot! He’s really uncomfortable!
Here’s a joke I liked: “I was committed to watching all your movies—that’s one of the things you have to do when you host—and I made it through the first five minutes of every single one of them. And, uh, some of ‘em start pretty slow! I will tell you that right now! Pretty f—king slow!”
“I honestly bet, though, that Brett Ratner really wishes that he was organizing the Grammys, because they seem much more forgiving than the Oscars altogether. Seriously. You say a few hateful things, they don’t let you within a hundred yards of the Oscars. You could literally beat the shit out of a nominee, they ask you to perform twice at the Grammys.”
And as soon as he lands his punchline, check out Patricia Clarkson! She is freaking out! That woman hates Chris Brown! (Kirsten Dunst is more like “oh, my God,” but Kirsten Dunst is always like that in the face of controversy, grabbing her pearls and promising whoever is sitting nearby that she completely disapproves.)
Finally, John C. Reilly’s hat! Hi there, John’s hat!
And it’s… unexpectedly offensive, actually! Fortunately, you get a huge heaping of celebrities—more stars than you got during the Oscars, for sure—and you’ll spend only 1/18th of your time watching it!
I don’t know whether you know this, but the Academy Awards were last night. A bunch of people won Oscar statuettes. Um. I’d sure love to tell you all about the ceremony, but I can’t right now. I’m too distracted.
Somehow I missed Angelina on the pre-ceremony red carpet—I was watching a movie, OK?—but fortunately for me, Angie was sure to strike an identical pose just as soon as she arrived onstage to present awards for both “Best Original Screenplay” and “Best Adapted Screenplay.”
I am not even kidding. She strutted to the microphone, thrust that leg all the way out of the slit in her dress’s skirt, put her hand on her hip as if she were doing “I’m a little teapot” choreography, and she stared the audience down.
The audience burst into whoops and giggles. (Angelina also tee-heed, as if she were somehow fully aware of her semi-dislocated right leg.)
This display of leg immediately prompted Reuters’ very own Anthony De Rosa to tweet my favorite commentary of the night: “You take the wing, I’ll take the thigh.”
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