M’yello,
Few good things this week: dirty iced chai lattes, La Roche Posay sunscreen, tiny little bugs, fast trains, coloured glass tchotchkes, the new I Think You Should Leave, having a handbag that’s not too big, not too small, and Malbec.
One bad thing this week: Jeans shopping when you’re built like a mouse deer. Eff you, Agolde.
Wanna know what else is up? Scroll down, I dare ya.
🕺 SWEETIE RATES 🕺
Imagine 1.0
A 2010 promo video for the Norwegian TV show Glyne Tider has recently resurfaced. With no word of a lie, it is one of the best pieces of media that has ever been created.
Featuring perhaps the most random assortment of celebrities ever assembled, about 20 D-listers lip sync for their lives to a cover of Let It Be on a beach that can only be found in a melatonin-induced dream. This video goes for almost six minutes, a full two minutes longer than the actual original song version by The Beatles. It’s perfect.
With any luck, it’ll be preserved by the Library of Congress.
I first watched this off my phone during a particularly boring Zoom seminar. Engrossed, I made it over a minute into the video before I realised that I was actually not muted. Right then, I found myself in times of trouble. I left the call. I did not return. Damn you, Glyne Tider.
As always, after each viewing of this fever dream, I am left with more questions than answers.
Was Roger Moore doing that box dye all by himself? Do Norwegians really know about Ricki Lake? Is Tonya Harding actually a marketing drawcard? Is George Wendt winning the IDGAF war? Does this video have the worst ever attempts at air guitar? Have these people ever SEEN a guitar before? Will I ever stop being emotional when I see footage of Leslie Nielsen? Why doesn’t Glenn Close have an Oscar?
We’ll just never know. But something tells me a few more rounds of viewing will help me crack the case.
Being a corporate girlie
A lot of people are too afraid to admit this, not I. I love being a corporate girlie. I love communal snacks, the hot water tap, the fizzy water tap, free cups of tea. I love wearing a lanyard, using my little swipe card to get around, beep! I’m in. Circling back. Regrouping. Touching base. Collating feedback. Wow! This is kind of what it’s all about.
Elly Space
Finally, some good fucking food. After stumbling across Elly Space on TikTok recently, I have become very taken with Elly’s unknowable pastiche and her presence as an outsider artist.
Her art direction is amazing. It looks like she lives in a universe completely confined within a pinball machine. These are the kinds of videos that play after you get a strike at a bowling alley. And listening to her lyrics is like trying to decipher ancient runes, it makes me feel like I’m in on some masonic secret.
I DARE you to tell me that this is not a Nine Inch Nails song. I dare you!
I’m already thinking about what the fandom are going to call themselves. Forget the Navy, Barbz, the Beyhive — it’s time for the Space Cadets. LFG.
🦴️ SWEETIE HATES 🦴️
Tori Spelling’s mould drama
I hate to be the bearer of bad news — but Tori Spelling’s family are currently living through a severe mould nightmare. I’m sorry if this is how you had to find out, take all the time you need to process this.
Please do not take my mould glibness as a lack of empathy, I have always had a deeply-held compassion for Tori Spelling. The ballad of her life is one both long and unrelenting. She’s had a really rough trot since 90210 ended. She was relentlessly body shamed in the 00’s. After her father Aaron Spelling’s death, her mother kept her (sizable) inheritance from her — causing a 20-year rift. Her husband, who is Canadian, had a very public affair. Then she fell backwards onto a Hibachi grill at Benihana! She needed a skin graft!
Now, Tori and her family’s home is riddled with a mould infestation so intense that at least four of her five children have had to visit urgent care. She is asking for recommendations for a mould lawyer, which I did not know existed. Now that I do, I have a ripped-from-the-headlines TV pitch: ‘Spore and Order’.
Godspeed, Tori 🫡
Kim Cattrall’s backsliding
And just like that… Kim Cattrall has made a booboo of enormous proportions. Fell to my knees in Tesco at the news of her filming one (1) scene for And Just Like That’s second season’s finale.
After walking away from the Sex And The City extended universe in 2017, claiming she would never play Samantha again, here comes Kim, dipping her toe back into the cursed reboot. A tragic move. And Just Like That, a show so performatively woke that it's actually offensive, doesn’t deserve Kim, nor the character of Samantha. It doesn’t even deserve to have the lens cap taken off the camera.
I assumed that Kim Cattrall hates Sarah Jessica Parker so much that the thought of even acting against a stand-in with a dollar store curly wig would’ve been a fate too repellent to bear. Let’s not forget that Kim jumped on Instagram and called SJP “cruel” and a “hypocrite” in a spray so heartfelt that, five years later, she still has not deleted it.
Oh well. I guess the best we can hope for is Samantha canonically meeting Che Diaz. Or Rock. Or finally pushing Carrie in front of a yellow cab. Actually, I’m coming around to the idea already…
This…
Aye caramba.
But while we’re on the topic, in the famed Robert De Niro vs Al Pacino hotness competition, I’m team Al ‘Dunkacino’ Pacino the whole way. The eyes, chico.
That’s enough xxxxxx