Phrases that drive me nuts

Everything happens for a reason (my ALL-TIME hated phrase)
Wow factor
It was totally surreal
Fairly unique, totally unique, very unique (kill me)
I literally died (I wish you had)
Yummy mummy
Azure blue seas
State of the art
At this point in time
In no way, shape or form
Win-win situation
It goes without saying
A whole new level
Legendary (there are no "legendary Beijing rock bands")
Iconic (no, that "legendary" Beijing rock band is not iconic either)
You're so random
Without further ado (and even worse... without further adieu. Aaaaaaagh!)
Don't get me wrong
Do you know what I mean
It's all good
Rolling coverage

Don't know what I'm talking about?  Watch this:

Another day, another unattainable advertising image...

Today, Spanish fashion chain Mango have released their latest campaign featuring actress Scarlett Johansson.

Yes, she is beautiful and a total knockout, but is this really what she looks like?  Just last week she was photographed jogging in LA.

We all know there's an element of smoke and mirrors involved in the fashion world, but at what point do the actors themselves have to stop perpetuating this unrealistic image of perfection and stand up and say, 'Hey, that's not what I look like!"

Kate Winslet famously did this in 2003 when GQ doctored a picture so aggressively that she ended up with freaky looking limbs that couldn't possibly be hers. So she sued.

Cut to eight years later and I'm not so sure her standards are so high. Case in point: her recent UK Vogue appearance and her current Lancome campaign.

Once again, this is what she really looks like - up close and with no photoshopping. She looks like a 35-year-old mother of two who's dressed up and looking great on a night out.

Kate Winselt at a premiere in March 2011

And then there's Gwyneth "I work my ass off" Paltrow, who continues to astound me with her complete lack of self-awareness. (Her recent "Day in the Life" diary will leave you in stitches!) 

She claims to snack on coconut water and kale juice and work out for two hours a day six days a week to maintain her stick-thin body (which a UK dietician found to be incredibly harmful). But why was her face so puffy when she received her star on the Hollywood 'Walk of Fame'. Is that the result of coconut water or fillers?

I'm all for freedom to do whatever the hell you like to your body and am in awe of those who really do work hard to maintain a healthy mind and body. But the double standards really bother me. This kind of "perfection" is just a flat out lie. And it results in women doing this to themselves.

I just don't get this look

This was Sophie Monk yesterday at a media awards night. She's 31 years old.

I remember when she first found fame; it was on one of the first reality TV programmes, Popstars, the search for an all-female pop group. I can even recall her audition. She was so fresh-faced and naturally pretty. She also had a fun personality and some actual singing talent. But then came Hollywood. And lip injections and god knows what else. 

Sophie Monk (about 10 years ago)

Is this what what we're now classifying as "beauty"?

Courteney Cox is another one that bothers me. She always struck me as a pretty smart cookie. But in the past few years, it's like her face belongs in a wax museum. It's always the same taut expression.

 

Kylie Minogue and Nicole Kidman are the other main offenders. Attractive women who've gone overboard in chasing the fountain of youth. Who are they fooling?

And then there's the Real Housewives of Orange County -- the land of the whippet thin, duck-lipped, big-breasted, bleach-blond Barbie doll reality TV star. And if you think it's scary in a still photo, try watching them in action in high-definition*. Absolutely nothing moves.

* Don't go thinking I hate this show. It's utter trash but I absolutely love it!

And another one....

Again with the weird Vogue covers!  While Reese Witherspoon is not a classic beauty, she is attractive. So, why would they choose this shot? All I see is bad photoshopping, dodgy eyes and weird lips. Huh?!

See, she looks lovely in the fashion spread.

Is Slash a good nickname?

I wonder if Saul Hudson would have been as famous if his mate's dad hadn't called him Slash* when he was 14? Would Paul Hewson's ego have exploded to epic proportions if his teenage self had not walked past a shop in Dublin called Bono Vox. Yes, there are lessons to be learned from giving and receiving nicknames. They stick.

I have a four-letter first name. How then is it possible for me to have close to 30 nicknames? Mez, Maz, Moz, Muz, Mezza, Mazza, Mozza, Muzza, Mare, Mares, Mare-wee, Memi, Mem, Marzy, Maros, Scary, Hairy, Hurricane, Nightmary. All terms of endearment carefully crafted over three decades. And I pretty much answer to all of them. Although I'm not all that keen on one of them. Unfortunately that's the one my brothers-in-law are now using so I'm going to be stuck with that for eternity. Lesson #1: if you don't like a nickname, don't tell anyone. Or you'll never be called anything else. J-Lo and Prince often have conference calls with P-Diddy and Snooki to talk about it.

Considering I received a brand new surname when I got married, the speed of new nicknames bestowed upon me was mighty swift. Weaves, Sigourney, Mystery, Dream. Yes, Mare is great, but compared to Basket? No contest. Lesson #2: when giving someone a nickname - think creatively. And don't forget cockney rhyming slang. My mate Rascal (aka Lizzie) and I go nuts when Dizzy Rascal's tune, Bonkers, comes on the stereo.  And I once heard of a bloke with the nickname Window.  His younger brother?  Louver. Classic Aussie humour at its finest.

And then there's just the plain WTF nicknames? When backpacking in Thailand about 10 years ago, I introduced myself to a fellow traveller on a hiking tour. "Hi I'm Mary". Without missing a beat, she replied: "Hey there, nice to meet you. I'm going to call you Mags". Errr. Oh-kay. Don't know how you got there (and so quickly?!) but you're a cheery Aussie and I'll probably never meet you again. Wrong. We travelled together for three weeks. Thankfully she never introduced me to anyone else by my new nickname as we tripped around northern Thailand. Which brings me to Lesson #3: Avoid the "Future Awkward Nickname Moment".

I will explain. You know a person ONLY by their nickname. Let's use Slug as an example. That's a great nickname if you're on a footy team, on a backpacking trip or in school. Or if you look like a slug. But it's kinda weird when you bump into the person you know as Slug in a different setting many moons later. Say, in an office, in a church or at a funeral. And you have no idea of his christian name. And his mum is beside him. And you're pretty certain she didn't call him Slug on the birth notice.

Some celebs have made their fortune from their nicknames: The Situation, Magic Johnson, Posh, Scary, Ginger, Baby, Sporty.... And they've often inspired others. On another backpacking adventure, this time in Europe, I shared a van with a guy who insisted on being called the name of his idol. At. All. Times. Kinda like Inception which was a dream inside a dream; his was a nickname inside a nickname. For three months, every time I wanted to speak to my fellow traveller, I had to address him as The Rock. Yes, I could smell what The Rock was cooking. A whole saucepan of crazy. Lesson #4: Be Unique.

History is riddled with great nicknames dreamed up by the tabloids: Dubya, Jackie O, Fergie. And in the past decade, they've gone crazy for mashing celebs' names for a front-page worthy moniker. Think Brangelina, TomKat, Bennifer. Unsurprisingly, I have a soft spot for those with a bit more bite. Lindsay Lohan won't answer to it, but you can try calling her Firecrotch** or Hohan. Madonna must love being called Vadge. And Jessica Alba will forever be miserable about her MiserAlba moniker.

Gwyneth Paltrow was nicknamed Fishsticks years ago by gossip columnist Ted Casablanca because she was so skinny and annoying. Clearly, nothing's changed. Although if you read her pretentiously tedious website you should know her friends call her Goop. Yes, as in poop. She was probably too busy swapping recipes with Jay-Z in Spanish to catch that her "friends" have punk'd her with a toilet-humour nickname.

But I guess it's to be expected from a woman who so easily gave her daughter a ready-made nickname. Yes, Apple Martin will be commiserating in the future with Nicole Kidman's daughter Sunday Rose over apple martinis and a Sunday roast. Lesson #5: Say your unborn child's full name out loud. And I'm guessing that Shiloh Pitt would have appreciated if Brad and Angelina had thought of the precarious situation someone could be in if they messed up their Sh and P when talking about their daughter.  Yes, Angelina called her daughter a pile of $%*#.  Let's raise our apple martinis to nicknames!




*For the record: it was because he was always in a hurry and "slashing" all over the place. Clearly "slashing" means something different in the US because in Australia he'd be permanently wearing incontinence pads.
** The tabloids were technically inspired by Brandon Davis' drunken rantings, but I'm including it here. It's almost got a Beetlejuice kind of quality. Say it three times quickly.

Is Christina Aguilera turning into a paler version of Snooki?

Worst magazine cover of the year - and it's only March

What is Vanity Fair thinking?  They have run a few howlers this past year -- Jessica Simpson, Justin Bieber.  And now Robert Pattinson inexplicably holding an alligator and wearing a floppy hat?!  Why?

Random Oscar observations

- Was James Franco on downers and Anne Hathaway on uppers? They possibly should have swapped drugs. And a drag joke?  Really?

- Melissa Leo wins most cringe-worthy speech of the night. Looking up to the heavens at the little people, talking about "her art", dropping the pre-planned F-bomb, bowing at Kirk Douglas. All while wearing a doily and gold wrapping paper.  Embarrassment.

- Did Kirk Douglas stay on stage a bit too long?

- I thought Christian Bale was Welsh?  Why does he talk like an extra from Lock Stock?  Good speech though.  That's how you do it Melissa.

- Who chooses the nominees for best song?

- Will someone please tell Gwyneth that she can't sing.  She should also open her eyes, stay away from white microphones, sequins, peroxide, flat irons and the spray tan gun.

- Does Hilary Swank work out too much?  She looked like an East German weightlifter with those buff arms.

- I bet Nicole Kidman wishes she hadn't worn Dior.  Whoops.

- Why did they start playing music so soon into Aaron Sorkin's acceptance speech?  He was not a happy camper.


- Jennifer Lawrence looked lovely. But did she realise that she was a life preserver floaty thing away from being on Baywatch?  "I'll be theeere..."

- Natalie Portman has a good memory for names. Including Russian tonge-twister surnames.

- Were my predictions right or were my predictions right? The Big Four Awards went to the hot favourites. The solution to making the ceremony more exciting? UPSETS.

- Can we get Jeff Bridges and Sandra Bullock to host next year?

And the winner is...

I am on countdown to one of my favourite days of the year - the Oscars!  I have no idea why I am so OBSESSED with Hollywood's Night of Nights, but I am. Always have been. Always will be.

As a child I used to go to ridiculous lengths to "enjoy" the night.  The time difference from the US to Australia meant that it was a delayed telecast. To avoid any accidental slip-ups, there was a blanket ban on all media at home and in the car. No TV, no radio, nothing. If I heard so much as one note of the ABC news theme, I'd pretty much pole vault across the room to switch off the radio while covering my ears and screaming. Sadly, I am not joking. I was a strange child.  Thank goodness the internet or mobile phones were a decade away or I may have had a nervous breakdown.

For about a week prior I would make sure that I went to bed early so I would be in tip-top condition to sit up for the full telecast, which often didn't finish to well past midnight. Year after year I remember begging my mum to let me stay home for the day so I could have an afternoon nap "in preparation". As she sensibly said no, I'm sure she was leafing through the Yellow Pages for the phone numbers of nearby mental institutions.

So for every year on Oscars afternoon while I was at school,  I got a "headache" and asked to go to the sick bay for a lie-down. What. A. Loser. How I managed to sleep during those hours is beyond me, as by then I was a ball of excitement. Who would win?  What would they wear?  Would my VCR have enough tape for the whole ceremony?

I would love to now say that my obsession has subsided, but I fear it may have intensified. Particularly as I have since found that there are other Oscar Obsessives walking the earth.

So, it got me thinking. What are my top 5 ingredients for the perfect Oscars Experience?

1. Fashion Disasters.  And no, I'm not talking Bjork or Tilda Swinton or Helena Bonham Carter or Cher. Those chicks know exactly what they're doing.  No, what I'm talking about are the truly epic fashion disasters. Gwyneth Paltrow with her pancake gothic boobs. Kate Hudson wearing a lampshade and a poodle perm. Demi Moore in bike pants and a ballgown. Celine Dion in a back-to-front tuxedo jacket. Reese Witherspoon in a doily-come-toilet doll ensemble and old lady hair.  Halle Berry wearing an ice-skating costume and some taffeta drapes. Charlize Theron with too much spray-tan and bronzer. Sadly, the advent of the stylist has made this less and less common. I want bad hair, ugly dresses and WTF moments. Don't disappoint me.

2. Fashion Moments.  Catherine Zeta Jones in that red Versace dress. Angelina with those emerald earrings. Anne Hathaway in that sparkly Armani. Michelle Williams in mustard Vera Wang. Nicole Kidman in that cerise Dior. Bring it.

3. Upsets.  For the last few years, it's been really easy to pick the winners because they've won every lead-up award. Back in the day, the Oscars was the Night of Nights. But now every bloody awards show is televised. The Golden Globes, the SAG awards, the Brits, Critics Choice.  God knows I love them all, but they've also taken a bit of magic out of the Oscars Experience.  This year, Colin Firth and Natalie Portman are dead certainties to be on the podium, and I'm sure Christian Bale and Melissa Leo will be beside them. How do I know that?  Well they'e won every award so far.  The Oscars needs to deliver a Marisa Tomei moment.  That said, I don't want a Crash moment. Because that's just stupid.  If I was scripting an upset this year?  Jacki Weaver to beat Melissa Leo.

4. No-one really cares about the show.  Ditch the montages, the dance numbers and the awards for sound editing. Who cares. I want to see presenters fluffing their lines when they deliver those god-awful canned scripts. I want to see toe-curling speeches. I want to see Ashley Judd flashing her undies as she struts across the stage. I want to cringe with embarrassment when Roberto Benigni jumps on chairs and disappears into oblivion. This year?  I want to see Gwyneth Paltrow stuff up her lines when singing that horrible Country Strong song. And if she falls over while wearing a bad dress, I may just weep with joy.

5. Nominate some cool stuff.  Why the hell is How to Train Your Dragon nominated for best soundtrack instead of Tron Legacy?  That seems bonkers. Daft Punk should be at the Oscars.