I Just Can't Get Enough

Jac's roundup of pop culture news and Internet findings

Share on Nextdoor

Last week was totally gay. In a very good way. Cities across the country celebrated Pride and honored the 44th anniversary of the Stonewall riots in Greenwich Village as the Supreme Court struck down Defense of Marriage Act and California’s Proposition 8. This week’s cover of The New Yorker pays tribute to all that’s happened last week (and all the hard work that led up to it) while playfully answering the question we’ve often wondered about two ambiguous Muppets cohabitating on Sesame Street: Yes, they are.


Lifetime upheld its reputation for producing high-quality tributes to lost souls this weekend with the premiere of the highly anticipated Anna Nicole starring Agnes Bruckner. Like any budding pop culture aficionado, I was an avid fan of E!’s The Anna Nicole Show in the early 2000s. I read all about ANS and followed her cray cray antics up until her serious and untimely death in 2007. So, as an unofficial Anna Nicole Smith historian, I feel pretty qualified in saying nearly every single aspect of her full 39 years (save for that weird MTV awards appearance) was packed into this two-hour special. Director Mary MFing Harron, who also directed American Psycho, I Shot Andy Warhol and The Notorious Bettie Page, said in an interview with Entertainment Weekly that Anna Nicole is a “new kind of” Lifetime movie but fear not — the flick was full of all the one-liners and dramatic drug scenes you’d crave from a Lifetime biopic — plus one extremely lifelike prosthetic breastplate.

Highlight reel:

According to Lifetime’s story, ever since Vicky Lynn was a little trailer park girl, after her first encounter with Marilyn Monroe's Playboy cover, she would randomly hallucinate visions of her future self, complete with her trademark tig ol’ bitties. Is Lifetime suggesting ANS was schizophrenic?

Vicky Lynn’s mom, with whom I was not familiar, was a hot ass cop mom who locked her daughter in her room when she noticed her stuffing her bra and dousing her face in makeup in her early teens. She did not want little Vicky to turn out knocked up early in life like her. Lifetime: Why paint the one voice of reason as the movie’s villain?!

Peaches, grapefruits or melons? These three fruits were lined up on the desk of a plastic surgeon in what I imagine is a very realistic re-imagining of a breast enhancement consultation. "More like what usually goes in here," Anna says, as she lifts up a bowling bag, turns it over, and dumps crumpled one dollar bills on doctors desk.

Anna and Daniel get their first house and proceed to jumps into the pool, fully clothed, despite it obviously being fall.

“You make me feel like I'm 75 again.” – J. Howard Marshall (played to perfection by Martin Landau)

Perfect Anna Nicole-isms: “I got big dreams, J. Howard Marshall." And, after being confronted by a J. Howard’s totally mean son: “I feel like poop.” This sentiment was soon followed by Anna racing down a street while doing lines of blow, drinking booze straight from the bottle, standing in on her seat and flashing her boobs to a passing semi — not just in a moving convertible, but all while driving! She was a true Renaissance woman.

Howard K. Stern, ANS’s attorney/agent/boyfriend who pretty much sealed her fate, was in full creep mode thanks to his portrayal by Adam Goldberg.

According to this movie, Anna took all her drugs Alka-Seltzer style: dropped in  pretty-colored cocktail. This was seriously repeated at least six times. Does anyone do that in real life?

Halfway through the movie they just stop tracking the year, so you just have to guess based on whether or not Anna is lucid and/or fat.

THANK GOD they got the rights to the Anna Nicole theme song:

Viva la fat Anna! Bruckner turned on the crazy accent, perpetually had a handful/mouthful of snack foods at all time. Now that she's attained her Marilyn image she sees visions of her little Vicky self. Definitely psychotic.

Finally, of course, the iconic clown makeup scene.

                                         Jesus, why didn’t you take the wheel?!

Basically it was one of the finest films of the year. Watch that shit immediately.

Also, Internet Warning: For some reason, the official Google images that appear when you search for Anna Nicole Smith and her son Daniel are (real or doctored, don’t care) explicit photos in which they appear to be dead. Hey Google, can you fix that please?

Speaking of death (sorry), as you’ve probably heard by now, it’s looking like New England Patriot Aaron Hernandez probably murdered his friend Odin Lloyd. This being perfectly appropriate material for late night comedy banter, Jay Leno recently remarked in a monologue that Hernandez has been made an honorary Cincinnati Bengal. Aw, thanks, Jay, but no thanks.

Need a heavy dose of cuteness to counteract that mess? Well, we met the one and only Lil Bub last week and talked about fishes, outer space, the importance of pet adoption and how it’s cool to be different (OK, OK, we talked to her dude. She mostly made indistinguishable noises) before snapping some super cute pics of the perma-kitten. You'll be able to read all about her in an upcoming issue but for now, take a sneak peek:

                                        Bub loves CityBeat!

Hey look, the cast of Matilda reunited! Mara Wilson, forever Matilda to fans (just don't call her that to her face), blogged last year about why she left acting to pursue a normal human life. Check out her post here.

Guilty Pleasure Confession of the Week: Bravo's Below Deck. Watch as a private yacht crew cater to different high-rolling charter guests week-to-week. In this week's premiere, a gay Big Lebowski type and his entourage got busted for cocaine, and had to crusie back to dock mid-hangover. And as if the guests themselves weren't going to be entertaining enough, the crew (supposedly "everyday folk") is five shades of hot mess. Come aboard 10 p.m. Mondays!

Scroll to read more News Feature articles


Join CityBeat Newsletters

Subscribe now to get the latest news delivered right to your inbox.