Ball So Hard

TUTTLE MODE

by James Tuttle

Gentle reader,

Over the weekend, I took Scott—or The Gimp, as he is known since fucking up his Achilles tendon last week—and braved the democratic hordes of Universal CityWalk with his crutches to catch the new Avengers movie.  This was a happy accident since it happens to be Shoot Your Heroes Week here at PFC.

Chet Corey is available for the next superhero movie.

We’d have normally wandered down the hill to the super-luxe Arclight Cinemas but the movie wasn’t playing there and Disney’s beautifully restored El Capitan Theatre on Hollywood Boulevard wanted $30 a ticket, which they’ll get from me the day they pry it from my cold, dead fingers.  Universal is just over the hill, though it sometimes seems light years away culturally.  It’s really not so bad once you get the hang of the labyrinthine parking structure and the Mexican kids playing in their underwear in any available water feature.

I Think I Cannes

TUTTLE MODE

by James Tuttle

Gentle reader,

I’m going to tell you about an HGTV show that I would love to like.  It’s called Secrets From a Stylist.  I know that I complained about HGTV’s programming a couple of weeks ago, when constant airings of House Hunters were beginning to erode my mental state.  I’ve since stopped automatically tuning to HGTV when I sit down after a long day of dressing my girls or playing my ponies but this show is already in our DVR queue.  It pops up every Saturday night like clockwork and I just watched the most recent episode.

The premise of the show is really quite good.  Perky stylist Emily Henderson analyses the style of each member of the homeowner couple with an interesting multiple choice test, designs their room for one person’s style, then layers on the other person’s style to create a perfect blend in which the inhabitants can live happily ever after.  What could go wrong?

The well-adjusted Dan Vickery adjusts himself (right).

In the beginning, I felt very close to this show.  I’d watched Emily win the Design Star competition over that very cute gay guy, Dan Vickery, whom I couldn’t watch without thinking whether or not he had a corrected cleft palate.  We need more cute, well-adjusted gays on TV to show America that we’re not always wearing leather halters or snorting cocaine on dance floors lit from below while listening to Gloria Gaynor or Cher but, in spite of all that, I actually rooted for Emily.