Unless you live under a rock (and trust me; I sometimes wonder about some of you), you've probably read or caught wind of the aftershocks from an article written by a tone-deaf woman in The Daily Mail. Samantha Brick bemoans the fact that her spectacular beauty has been a dual edged sword, eliciting free gifts and favours showered upon her by men, but earned her the constant derision of jealous women. Uhm. Check the link. I'm still trying to decide if it was written as a laugh; there is no way to win this one, and anyone who doesn't look like a dead possum lying roadside knows this.
Anyhoo. As expected, the internet exploded with shouts, cries and volleys of 'oh my god she is so ugly'. She isn't ugly; a little delusional, maybe, but not ugly. I mean, I get why she might not have any women friends, but it's got nothing to do with her looks. If the article is for real (and subsequent follow ups reveal it really is - ugh), then she's simply had her reality bone removed. She appears to live in her own little world where the act of men leering or buying you a drink is somehow reserved for the Angelina Jolies of the world - and the Samantha Bricks.
I would like to remind Ms. Brick that while I adore men and often like the warmth of their attention - should I wash my hair and don something other than my son's hand-me-downs - there are parts of the world where men have historically been known to have relations with sheep. And cows. And chickens. Anything that moves slower than they do. This is not a judgement on those men; I do not know the conditions that might require this last ditch effort for a little lovin'. But I do know that this does not make that sheep prettier than the other sheep. And chickens are positively weird looking. Yet still, there are people who buy them a drink, apparently.
So the internet exploded in a spew of bad manners calling her ugly and horrid and egotistical and delusional. Which I call fair, if mean. You put it out there, you deal with the fallout. I winced a little at some of it - if she's happy, so be it - but the internet is the wrong place to chum the waters. It's just too easy. And of course the piece had tons of pics, so we could check her out from every angle. And come away whelmed. Not over, not under, just whelmed.
I remember an old ad from when I was a kid, where an 'actress' came on the TV and said 'I'm Ruuuuuuula Lenska'. She made a dramatic pause so everyone watching in their living rooms could look at each other and say 'who the hell is Rula Lenska?' You probably remember it; her name was Rula Lenska. Yeah the famous Rula, who beat out Sophia Loren and Marilyn Monro for all those parts. Wait. Maybe not. My mother knew who she was, but my mother knew a lot of strange British actresses we'd never heard of. I remember tracking down all the Deanna Durbin movies when she still alive. See? Another one you've never heard of.
If there'd been an internet back then, Rula would have had the piss taken out of her. You can't really declare yourself famous. Or smart. Or charming. Or beautiful. Most people learn this by grade 2 when you're sitting on your own at every recess because nobody likes you. Sniff.
Kelly LeBrock had an ad where she said 'don't hate me because I'm beautiful'. She was beautiful. But the problem with this was the big bag of annoying that sits on top of that statement like a turd. Me using that shampoo isn't going to make me look like Kelly Lebrock. Not even with my dress over my head, like in that movie she did with Gene Wilder. I think. Man, his eyes still scare me.
Anyway. I have a point. Because it's so easy to slag this Brick woman, and easy is just so...easy, I rolled when I read this. My secret boyfriend, Tim Dowling, penned this column. I know, I keep linking his columns from The Guardian all the time. I can't help it. They're great. And now he's following me on Twitter, I can die happy.