You know what to do. Do it in the comments section for fabulous, completely imaginary prizes. This Friday’s commemorative cocktail to put you in the mood and to drink in solidarity with our Nemo-ridden friends in the East is the Velvet Manhattan: 2 ounces of Maker’s Mark bourbon, 1/2 ounce red vermouth, dash chocolate bitters, served in a rocks glass over ice, preferably fancy ice. I do love fancy ice. The more carats the better. Where was I? Oh yes, ordering another Manhattan and contemplating the beauty that is Beyonce.
Contrary to appearances, that sound you hear is not Beyonce’s buttcheeks clashing together like tectonic plates. That sound you hear is Dame Diana Rigg rolling over in her grave, and she’s not even dead yet. This might just push her over the edge, though.
We all have those pictures from high school that we hoped had been buried forever. And we find them posted to Facebook when our “friends” get into the prosecco. I’m sorry, Beyonce, we can no more let you live this down than we can these two. Acid wash isn’t for jeans; it’s for our eyeballs after we get a load of this outfit. Also, is that a wig from the House of Lisa Kudrow on your head?
Robert Pattinson attempts to bring back the Reagan Brown Suit
Oh dear god. Sweet jeebus. Normally, I kind of love RPattz: he looks like he would have an unfortunate tang if it were a warm day, something like the bottom of a pub ashtray, but normally he’s just crazy enough to keep it interesting, unlike his co-stars (Tai the elephant excepted: if she’s good enough for Banksy, she’s good enough for me). But while he may have been talked into wearing this diarrhea-coloured monstrosity on the general principle that “a suit is dressy” a significant part of me hopes that halfway through a beer-laden schnitzelfest he ripped it in pieces and ran down the cobblestones naked and cackling. If he didn’t, please don’t inform me.
Now I am going to drown my sorrows with a Boilermaker or ten and some gossip links.
That’s a very respectable showing from Tom Felton, once again stealing the show from his arch-rival, Daniel “Nice Guy” Radcliffe. But does anyone else think he’s been watching a bit too much early Keanu Reeves? Booyah, Dude-Man! Let’s order a pitcher of Bud Light (and pour it into the window planter when nobody is looking) to toast these new speakers of American: The Freedom Language.
Funny, I wouldn’t have called her a dog, but I guess her new boyfriend is a furry. Wash that picture out of your mind with a couple of tall Salty Dog cocktails and enjoy your gossip links.
…her new movie, “Money Never Sleeps In Its Clothes The Night Before a Big Premiere.” Looks like the poor girl could use a drink, and so could we, since we have to look at that. I suggest a hearty and nutritious Pick Me Up Cocktail, to pry those heavy eyelids open.
Manolo the Shoeblogger is not Mr. Manolo Blahnik. This website is not affiliated in any way with Mr. Manolo Blahnik, any products bearing the federally registered trademarks MANOlO®, BlAHNIK® or MANOlO BlAHNIK®, or any licensee of said federally registered trademarks. The views expressed on this website are solely those of the author.
