So, this is my life.

And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

my hero, part V

m'gurl Chelsea got a slightly nasty yet somehow mostly rave review on Slate the other day, and i just have to share.

the title of the article is, "Chelsea Handler: The drunken-slattern shtick is very watchable" setting the mood at FUN right off the bat.

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Here's the vibe: Imagine Handler hungoverish at the 10-items-or-less counter at Safeway, swinging her basket of goods—a home pregnancy test, a Boston cream pie, a handle of designer booze—up to the conveyor belt. She snatches a glossy tabloid from the rack for a greedy eyeful of hot-pink messes. Sniping aloud at the tackiness within with vulgarity in kind, she rolls her eyes so hard that she gags as she slaps enough magazines on the conveyor belt so that now she's buying 12 items. She swipes her platinum card with a contemptuous gesture.

Handler claims to be 35 and looks at least 40, which is part of her appeal. She seems old enough to have been around and to know better. About her appetites she is frank, unrepentant, and semi-self-loathing. She wants a second dessert, a sixth drink, a Vicodin if you've got one—and what her drunken slattern shtick lacks in novelty, it more than compensates for by way of pungency. One imagines that her core constituencies include sarcastic young flaming homosexuals and jaded sorority dropouts with treatable self-esteem issues.

* * *

at that point in the article, i stopped to wonder: am i a sarcastic young flaming homosexual (the author obviously hates commas) or a jaded sorority dropout with treatable self-esteem issues? hmmm... it's a toss-up.

hat tip: Kimmy Sue.

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