Good Girls Gone Bad

There's a dirty, unspoken rule in Hollywood.

If you're a kiddie actress, the only road to a legitimate career is spreading your legs. On film. White powder and booze are encouraged bonuses.

The latest victims of this sentiment are, of course, Disney princesses Vanessa Hudgens and Selena Gomez in the cringe-worthy movie Spring Breakers.

 

 

Vanessa, the once spotless role model of High School Musical fame, plays a sociopathic nympho with an alarming thirst for violence.

 

 

Selena, the former Disney Channel darling, plays a hopelessly confused Christian who cannot for the life of her understand why doing drugs and dancing naked with STD-soaked penises is BAD.

("But we were just having fun!")

 

 

This film is basically the quickest and easiest way for both Vanessa and Selena to tell the world they've grown up, tossed out the Disney halos, and want to be taken seriously as actresses. It is also a hall pass to audition for more serious roles in serious films.

Like, seriously.

"I was getting kind of repetitive in terms of the roles I was picking,” Selena Gomez told Interview Magazine, “and I really wanted to do something that was completely different. It was a mark thing for me — like, ‘This is what I want to be doing.' I want to be taking myself seriously as an actress, and this was definitely a stretch. I mean, I'd never smoked a cigarette before in my entire life. It was really funny — they had to show me how to do it."

I'm not sure what's worse, the fact that these young actresses are so willing to play these sex-fueled roles to prove they're grown up, or if Hollywood is simply not offering any other solutions.

Why does a girl who is famous for being a princess have to act like a slut to change the tone of her career? I'm not saying these girls have to remain innocent their entire lives, but is going from one extreme to the next really the only way to grab attention?

It worked for Anne Hathaway. She has admitted that during her Princess Diaries fame, it was nearly impossible for her to snag serious roles.

That's the reason she made Havoc in 2005. In the indie film, she plays a sexually confused rich girl who cures boredom by hanging out with gang members. Nudity, sex, drugs. No tiara in sight.

 

And guess what? Her next film was the award-winning sensation Brokeback Mountain.

 

Child star Dakota Fanning raised eyebrows in 2010 by starring as vixen rocker Cherie Currie in The Runaways. It was the first film to really showcase the then-17-year-old as an adult.

 

In the edgy film, she wore fishnet thigh-highs and corsets, showed partial nudity, and had a sex scene with Kristen Stewart.

Her career hasn't slowed down since.

And even 20 years ago, Drew Barrymore used the technique to star in Poison Ivy, in which she played the ultimate sex-crazed bad girl.

Today, she's already a Hollywood legend.

But, the good-girl-gone-bad trick doesn't always work.

Remember Elizabeth Berkley?

If not, that's the reason. In the midst of her squeaky clean Saved by the Bell fame (she was the feminist nerd, Jessie Spano) she jumped right into the film role of a shameless stripper who will do anything to get ahead. The movie was called Showgirls.

 

Despite the glorified nudity, sex, and blatantly R-rated content, the 1995 movie was a cheesy, disastrous, and unintentionally hilarious flop. Her career never recovered.

These days, you'll be lucky if you catch her in a handful of CSI: Miami reruns.

So, where lies the fate of Vanessa and Selena?

Who knows.

Both acted pretty well in Spring Breakers, with Selena being more notable.

Vanessa does have some interesting films lined up, especially Gimme Shelter, which centers around her playing a street-wise teen desperately seeking her wealthy father. If all goes well, it could earn some awards for the 24-year-old.

Selena has a few less-interesting films lined up, but her shinier celeb status as Justin Bieber's ex-or-not-ex may help strengthen her showbiz career.

 

It's a toss up.

Both girls are talented and deserve to be carefully considered for more serious films.

I just wish it didn't take sex to make it happen.

Don't look! I'm naked!

A little while ago, a friend of mine deleted his blog.

He accidentally posted a link to it on a social network site and although he deleted the link before anybody saw it, he still panicked and deleted his entire blog, just to be safe. His blog topic was intensely private, he blogged under a secret persona, and he didn't want anyone in his family to know about it.

As a fan, it saddened me to see the blog disappear. After all, this blogger had spent years accumulating hundreds and hundreds of posts on a topic very few people know about. It was like an encyclopedia! And now, all gone!

But as a blogger, I understood his action.

I'm semi-anonymous on this blog. Believe it or not, my real name isn't really Jennifer Fabulous.

It's Angelina Jolie.

JUST KIDDING.

My real name is Jennifer. But I have a different last name. It's unique, so I don't put it here. After all, I'm a reporter and the last thing I want is for people I interview to google me and come across my personal blog. I say unsavory words like "fuck" and "shit" and "Kim Kardashian" on here. I reveal personal stories about my life. I make fun of people who need to be made fun of.

I keep it real. Too real for people in my real life to handle.

You know what I mean?

It's the same reason people in my family don't know about my blog.

I literally created this blog as an escape from my life. So I could vent and cry and laugh and be myself, without having fear that people closest to me are judging me.

If my family found out about my blog, I wouldn't kill my blog like my friend did, but the tone of this blog would change. It would make blogging less fun. I would always have my guard up, wondering if my dad is disgusted by the amount of cuss words I use or if my mom thinks I'm being too silly or whatever. (That is actually what my mom said when she read my diary in 1999. I'm silly).

I love my parents, of course. But let's be real, a girl needs a place where she can be silly.

So, that's why I remain a little bit anonymous online.

It has me wondering too, if I'm alone.

Are there a lot of bloggers out there who hide their blog from their family? Their friends? Their pets?

If so, why?

If someone in your real world discovered your blog, how would you feel?

Tell me.

Shabby Apple Giveaway!

Do you love modern fashion with a vintage twist?

Do you love looking classy?

Do you love being fabulous?

If you've answered yes to one (or hopefully all) of these questions, you are in for a treat.

I'm teaming up with my favorite online clothing boutique Shabby Apple for another spectacular giveaway!

One grand prize winner will receive a $50 gift card to Shabby Apple.

I'm insanely jealous of the winner already.

Here is a taste of what they have to offer:

I am absolutely in love with this adorable skirt, which has pink, green, yellow, and and orange lemons on it. It's fun, flirty, and totally perfect for summer!

This hot red dress makes my vintage heart sing. I love the neck-line in particular.

Navy blue. Pink and white stripes. Utter adorableness. What's not to love about this head-turning dress?!

This playful skirt couldn't be more perfect for spring. Isn't it lovely?

This stunning teal one-piece suit takes my breath away. It is one of several gorgeous swimsuits the online boutique has to offer.

Are you excited yet?!?

To enter this giveaway, here are the requirements:

1. You must have a U.S. mailing address.

2. You must like Shabby Apple on Facebook (and state so in a comment)

3. Browse the Shabby Apple website and leave an additional comment here stating which dress or item is your favorite.

For extra entries:

1. Like my blog on Facebook (and state you have done so in seperate comment)

2. Follow my blog via GFC or bloglovin (again, another comment)

It's that easy!

I will announce the winner on Tuesday, April 2nd.

Good luck!

The One That Got Away

 

His name was Jeremy.

 

My parents had just dragged me, kicking and screaming, to a small town in Ohio. I was 16 and I didn't want to switch schools.

 

I refused to make friends. I sat in my new high school cafeteria, scowling at everyone who dared to make eye contact.

 

Frustrated, my parents forced me to audition for a community theater production.

 

I was Princess Jasmine. He was the genie.

 

 

I was sitting backstage when he appeared. I had noticed him the day before--a handsome Italian boy my own age, with dark brown curls, tan skin, and a boyish grin.

 

"Can I borrow a pencil?" he asked, sitting next to me.

 

I handed him a pencil wordlessly, glaring at him for bothering me. I still hated everyone in my new town.

 

"They're playing our song right now," he said casually, making notes on his script.

 

In the background, the sound speaker was softly playing "I Knew I Loved You" by Savage Garden.

 

I stared at him, dumbfounded.

 

"What are you talking about?" I asked. "You don't even know me."

 

"You're right," he said, looking up thoughtfully. "We should get to know each other better. Especially now that we have a song."

 

I shook my head in amazement.

 

"You're crazy," was all I could muster.

 

"I know, isn't it great?" he shot back, with a big smile and a wink, before tossing the pencil back in my lap and walking away.

 

 

For the next week, Jeremy followed me around, acting like we'd known each other our whole lives. I got used to him. I couldn't help laugh at his jokes. And when we figured out he lived in the neighborhood next to mine, he started giving me rides to play rehearsal in his shiny black BMW.

 

He quickly became my best friend. We spent every weekend together, riding around town in his car. Hikes at the state park. Drive-in movies. Mini golf. Sometimes we would even just park somewhere random, talking and laughing for hours.

 

 

I drank up every detail about him. Despite his effortless charm and outgoing personality, Jeremy was quietly unhappy. His dad owned a software company, which took him to Europe or Asia for months at a time. His mom was never home and would sometimes disappear for weeks, without even saying goodbye. And although he would never admit it, I knew Jeremy hated being alone in that big house.

 

I didn't make many friends at my new high school. All I could think about was him. Jeremy attended a Catholic school across town. The only frustration to our relationship was those large chunks during the week when I couldn't see him. I found myself impatiently going through the motions of school, waiting for the final bell to ring. I knew he felt the same way because as soon as I would pull into my driveway, he would already be sitting on my front steps jokingly shouting, "what took you so long?"

 

 

One Saturday afternoon we were laughing hysterically on the couch in his living room, smearing his leftover birthday cake on each other's faces after some silly argument, when he suddenly grew serious.

 

"I love you, Jen," he told me, staring in my frosting-framed eyes.

 

My heart soared.

 

 

The summer after our high school graduation, I helped Jeremy pack up his boxes. He was heading to Stanford. I was heading to Missouri for journalism school.

 

We numbly agreed to end things between us. A long-distance relationship didn't make sense. Our lives were about to drastically change and we knew it. We were already a part of each other's pasts before our futures had even begun.

 

Of course, I couldn't just get over him. Nothing is that clean.

 

I drifted unhappily through my first semester of college, putting my efforts into studying and ignoring social opportunities. One afternoon, I stared in my bedroom mirror, in a daze, watching my reflection cut my long brown hair off with scissors. I gazed nonchalantly as each lock dropped to the ground.

 

Chop chop. Snip snip. Bye bye.

 

 

But my depression slowly evaporated and I found myself getting caught up in the excitement of university life.

 

During my junior year of college, I fell madly in love with the half-Egyptian sports editor of my college newspaper.

 

Six months into our relationship, I was sitting on his lap in front of my desktop, checking my brand new Facebook account. It was 2005 and I was mesmerized that I was able to reconnect with all my old high school friends with the click of a button.

 

I came across Jeremy. He was no longer at Stanford. He had transferred to NYU.

 

And there before my eyes was a status update that turned my world upside down.

 

Jeremy is gay.

 

My eyes blurred with tears. I couldn't even finish reading the comments of support from his friends. He said he had been confused for a long time and as a devout Catholic, it took him years to even come to terms with the realization.

 

My boyfriend swiveled me around on his lap, noticing the tears in my eyes.

 

"What's wrong, honey?" he asked, worried. "Who's this Jeremy?

 

Nobody, I told him, just some guy I used to know.

 

It was a painful realization to face.

 

The one that got away had never even been mine.

Is Blogging Dead?

My blog is dying.

Readership has dropped significantly over the past six months. I used to get 100 comments. Then 50. Then 30. Now, I'm lucky to hit the 20 mark. My stats are embarrassing.

I know, I know. I shouldn't care, right? After all, I have more than 900 followers, so why complain? And I should be blogging because I love it. Because I enjoy writing. Because it keeps me creative. It's an outlet for my despair. Whatever.

And isn't the cardinal rule of blogging not to complain about stats and comments? Because then it reveals that you're a human being who wants to be loved. Who wants people to think you're awesome, and it's embarrassing when you realize you're not.

But, I'm not going to lie. It sucks. Every time I log into Blogger, I'm constantly asking myself what I'm doing wrong.

I thought it was just me. But after talking to several other bloggers over the past few months, I discovered it's a wide-spread infection.

It's almost like blogging isn't really that cool anymore. The world is rapidly spiraling into another dimension.

People don't want to read stories anymore. They just want pure content. And they want it to be hilarious.

They want a quick list from Buzzfeed on their iPhones, showing them cats wearing berets and the top 10 reasons why dumb shit is hysterical. Everyone is on the move, and they don't have time to slow down.

This really shouldn't come as a surprise to me. I was shown the future five years ago, and I refused to believe it.

I applied for a position at a pop culture magazine. At the job interview, the editor warned me that the magazine was going to be less articles and more lists. "People our age don't want to sit down and read a story," she said. "They want bullet points."

I was horrified, and it showed on my face. Needless to say, I didn't get the job.

Well, I've been trying to keep up. You may have noticed in recent months that I don't write personal stories anymore. I've been trying to do lists. But, I like to write and they don't give me the same satisfaction.

I'm not sure what to do. Perhaps I'm naive, but I really don't want to give up on this blog just yet.

I've put a lot of heart and soul into it.

I find it interesting that my sentiment coincides with the impending death of Google Reader.

Clearly, I'm not the only one noticing the future of blogging is morphing into a blurrish form.

Perhaps my blog just needs to grow up. Change with the times.

Tell me. Do you want to see more Buzzfeed-type lists here? Or do you prefer my writing?

Or better yet, what do you LIKE about my blog?

Technicolor Couture

I'm not a huge fan of musicals, but one of my guilty pleasures is Bye Bye Birdie.

The 1963 teen movie parodies the real-life drafting of Elvis into the United States Army.

It's cute, bubbly, adorable, and a technicolor dream come true.

But the main reason for watching it is because of its delightfully adorable star, Ann Margret.

The Swedish-born beauty is as sweet and innocent as American apple pie in this musical.

And it established the 20-year-old as a legimate fashion icon.

Ann Margret was the Britney Spears of the 1960s, starting out as an all-American girl-next-door to quickly transforming into a mischevious sex kitten.

Girls wanted to be her. Guys wanted to bang her.

In the early 1960s, she had a steamy affair with Elvis, that rocked headlines all over the world. Despite having a nasty break-up, the two remains close friends until his death, which made his wife absolutely livid.

In 1967, she married the love of her life, an actor named Roger. The two are still married today.

In 1972, while performing at Lake Tahoe, she fell 22 feet from an elevated platform onto the stage and nearly broke every single bone in her face. She had reconstructive facial surgery and spent months recovering.

In the 1980s, she used to drive around Beverly Hills in a pink Cadillac, like a bad-ass.

She has always been a huge motorcycle fan, a passion that started in the 1960s. She still rides her Harley today.

In 2000, she was thrown off her motorcycle while throwing caution to the wind in rural Minnesota. She suffered three broken ribs and a fractured shoulder. She's fine now.

Her latest work, an episode of Law & Order: SVU in 2010 earned her an Emmy award, which drew a standing ovation at the ceremony. Not bad, eh?

What do you think of Ann Margret? Do you like her 1960s style?

Once Upon a Time: Divya Bharti

She was India's teen dream in the early 1990s.

Beautiful. Vivacious. Charismatic. Talented.

But now her tragic demise remains one of the country's most shocking unsolved mysteries.

Click on the link to find out more: http://www.tanvii.com/2013/03/once-upon-time-divya-bharti.html

When you're finished, come back here and let me know what you think! xoxo

She sang WHAT?!

Sometimes musicians like to cover songs by other musicians.

Sometimes it works...sometimes it doesn't.

Most of the time, you don't even realize these cover songs exist.

And in some cases, the songs are too deliciously random and must be shared with the world immediately.

Here are five cover songs you might not have known existed.

You're welcome. Happy Monday.

5. Britney Spears covers All That She Wants by Ace of Base

I'm starting you out light here. This cover is unexpected, but should come as no real surprise to any Britney fan. After all, her top hits which made her a star ten years ago were written by the man (Max Martin) who crafted most of the Ace of Base songs in the early 1990s. You can hear the influence. But it is interesting to give this song a whirl. Plus, she gives the song her own spin by changing the lyrics.


4. Miley Cryus covers Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana

 

I'm not a huge Nirvana fan. I'm not even a huge Kurt Cobain fan. But being a teenager from the 90s, I know enough about the artist to understand that this cover of Smells Like Teen Spirit is sacrilegious. I'm totally serious. I don't even know where to begin.

 

First, this song represents a mournful generational sentiment that Miley Cyrus couldn't even begin to wrap her head around. So for her to prance around in a skimpy pop star bedazzled sex suit and sing this song to thousands of clueless 12-year-old girls is unfathomable to me. The day she decided to cover this song, poor Kurt died again. When he was alive, he was so troubled by the materialistic plastic meaningless crap consuming our culture in the early 90s, that he couldn't even swallow his own fame.

 

This song is basically Hannah Montana shitting on all that's sacred in the world and laughing all the way to the bank.

 

If that is my opinion, as a so-so fan, imagine the horror of Nirvana's real fans. The comments on the youtube page pretty much say it all.

 

 

3. Ozzy Osbourne covers Stayin' Alive by the Bee Gees

 

 

I actually like this version better than the original.

 

 

2. Pat Boone covers Enter Sandman by Metallica

 

 

Unlike our friend, Miley, this smooth crooner isn't making a mockery of a beloved rock song, he's owning it. And it's fucking AWESOME.

 

If you're familiar with this Metallica song, then you, my friends, are in for a treat. This brassy big-band version of Enter Sandman is hysterical. Pat Boone sings the morbid lyrics with such confident pizazz, you could have sworn he cheerfully wrote this tune back in 1958.

 

I never knew a death-metal rock song could be so swingin' and so seemingly innocent. I suggest turning this song on at high volume, grabbing a glass of bubbly, and twirling around the dance floor with that special someone.

 

 

1. Alanis Morissette covers My Humps by the Black Eyed Peas

 

 

...holy shit.

 

 

What do you think of these covers? Which one is your favorite?

Your 1950s childhood

When most people look back at the 1950s, they see the decade as a delicious whirlwind of Marilyn Monroe, Elvis, James Dean, soda fountains, poodle skirts, chocolate milkshakes, and motorcycles.

But, in reality, the world was a much darker place.

Imagine being a kid in the 1950s...

...and these were your toys.

 

 

 

Oh, you don't want to play by yourself anymore? I understand. How about playing a board game with your parents? That's safe, right?

 



 

No? Okay, how about browsing through your mom's fashion magazines? Surely those won't be terrifying. Christian Dior dresses, Chanel suits, and satin gloves. Sigh. Let's look at some of the advertisements now!

 

 

 

 

 

Well, fuck. Forget that shit. Let's just watch television!

 

 

 

Ugh, seriously?!?!

Ummm you know what, mom? I think I'm just going to go play outside!

 

 

 

 

Much, much better.

 

Phew.