Eyes Wide Shut

I didn’t think anyone was that silly enough to buy into Lynx’s latest attempt at trying to convince average looking men everywhere that buying their deodorant – and it is only a deodorant – somehow enhances your ability to pull loose women. Until I saw the guy in the supermarket the other day with not one, but two packs of the ‘1 + 2 =3’ Lynx spray.

Lynx reckon that if you take one can and mix it with the second can then you get a whole new scent, which obviously must be too good, or flammable, to put in a can because if they could they’d be able to sell it separately and make a mint, wouldn’t they? I reckon they tried to bottle and name it, but unfortunately ‘fly spray’ was already in use. This is the stuff of Mensa really – mixing stuff to make something new. Why just the other day I took a dry chocolate powder, added hot water and mixed in some milk. The result was a refreshing beverage! Fuck me. I was going to demand the guy hand back his man card but i figured I’d save him a few bucks by offering him a ‘can 3’ I had at home. It’s actually oven cleaner with the label removed but I doubt he’ll catch on.

Lynx have proven that yet again, there’s one born every minute. Idiots that is, not Asians, although there probably is an Asian born every minute. The best news story I saw all week was the bit on the group of vigilante Asians in Auckland who are going to proactively end crime in the street when and where they see it. With martial arts apparently and not their command of the English language. The leader spoke passionately on TV3 news, he just wasn’t all that clear. He didn’t want his face shown so that the gang bangers wouldn’t know who he was but i reckon they’ll see him coming, he’ll be the one dressed like a ninja.

All jokes aside though I’m all for people taking back the streets. The Five O are clearly not having much luck, not for want of trying mind you, so not surprisingly we’re seeing more and more people offloading on the likes of taggers, boy racers and other such stand up citizens. I once took a ‘Which Comic Book Hero Are You’ quiz and I turned out to be The Punisher. Now that’s what I’m talking about. I read an article in a boy’s mag recently that priced the cost of forcibly taking over a third world country as a very cheap seven million NZ dollars. Fuck that’s do able. I’m starting a whip round as of Monday and when I have enough I’m going to fly in the 75 Saffa mercenaries, 60 AK47s and two Soviet helicopter gunships that buys me and then things are really going to kick off around here. Anyone wanting in please let me know – genuine enquiries only though, I’ve been burnt before when trying to put a small army together.

Speaking of crimes against society, the first and hopefully last season of the NZ version of ‘Stars in Their Eyes’, the show that brings you costumed karaoke, thankfully just came to an end. Now when I was a boy – I was raised as a young child incidentally – I used to love watching the UK version. Michael Barrymore used to host it, until he decided to drown one of his rent boys in his swimming pool. Surprisingly his career went downhill from there. Who would have thought, aye? The English version was tight, you actually had to sound like the person you were impersonating and if you got through to the final you had to sing a different song than the heat. If you happened to look like the artist after 4 hours of having makeup trowel led across your face then that was a bonus, but it was all about the singing.

The makers of our version didn’t seem so concerned that most of the contestants didn’t actually sound like the artist, which might be okay at a deaf 21st karaoke party – and I’ve been to one of those – but it would seem to be an oversight in a impersonation based talent show. The deaf 21st had a stripper too by the way. Yup. There’s nothing quite as erotic I tell you, as a petrified young lady in a g string trying to lap dance the birthday boy whilst closely circled in by a growling, grunting, gesticulating mob of deaf folk.

The finalists sung the same song they had in their heat and bizarrely, most of them didn’t even look like the star they were mimicking. The guy who wished he was doing George Michael was built like a shit brick house, the chick doing Tina Turner was actually born a man and goes by the stage name ‘Cindy of Samoa’ in real life, Roy Orbison was a pasty ginga with a nose like the Concorde and Billy Joel – the eventual grand final winner – did look a little like him but only if the real BJ gains about 30kg. All of which made for several episodes of quite possibly the shittiest TV ever produced here. And yet it was so bad I couldn’t help but not watch to see what was coming next. It was ‘2 girls 1 cup’ all over again, only with Simon Barnett, who freakishly still doesn’t look a day over 15.

Sadly the best performer for my mind was the Christian girl who did an awesome Melissa Etheridge. She loved the songs she admitted, but couldn’t agree with Melissa drinking from the furry cup like she does. Oh the irony.