Wednesday, August 31, 2005

I've Been Taralyzed!

A few tidbits are popping up here-n-there, such as Pete Doherty headbutting the lead singer of Razorlight backstage at a music festival in England, and yet more news of the further disintegration of Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey's marriage of convenience.

But all of that is far too taxing for me to contemplate, as my mind has been officially blown by last night's back-to-back airing of "Taradise," The Show Formerly Known As "Wild On Tara," on E!

Where to begin? Can't...think...straight...Too many vicarious Jaeger shots...argh! Damn you Tara Reid! Damn you straight to hell! I can't concentrate on anything! My cognitive level has been reduced to the level of, well, you. I only seem to remember that a great many things you encountered on your jaunts were "totally awesome," "amazing," and "so cool." Like, "so, so cool." AAAAAAAAAAAH!

OK, I have to get a hold of myself. I seem to recall that on the first episode, Tara goes wild on Monte Carlo, and though the location is quite beautiful, somehow Tara makes it all seem cheap and unseemly. Maybe it's the unholy combination of her bleachy straw hair, black-rimmed rheumy eyes, and complete lack of hand-eye coordination while lurching around that does it. Hard to say.

Is this woman ever sober? Even when she is learning how to drive a stick shift for the first time on a Formula One racing car, she is clearly either drunk and/or hopped up on goofballs. It seemed like a clear insurance liability to me, but the race car driver she keeps holding onto to keep from falling over didn't seem too concerned. She stumbles and slurs her way through lunch, dinner, suntanning, a diamond-and-gold-dust massage, and a conversation with a model who just arrived from London after the bombings, which prompts Tara's eloquent speech against "mean people" who should just get their own country so they can "blow each other up." Well-said, milady! Well-said indeed. Why are you wasting your talents on a travel show? You should totally become a U.N. Goodwill Ambassador to Cabo San Lucas, and pronto!

The next show featured Tara stumbling and slurring her way around Pamplona, Spain during the running of the bulls. She goes to buy the traditional white outfit with red sash from a street stall, and somehow manages to totally Tara-rize the ensemble (ie, make it billowy, slutty, and so boob-revealing that she admits she will have to get "double-stick tape" to avoid a wink-wink, nudge-nudge repeat of her infamous red carpet full-frontal dress slippage). She loves historic Pamplona because it is "one non-stop party," and reveals her astonishment that the hicks in Spain actually have a nightlife with clubs and dancing and such. Oh, Tara. All of this is spoken in her patented 100-Year-Old Smoker voice, which makes Harvey Fierstein sound like Shirley Temple.

All the while she is slurring and stumbling, you can't help but notice her incredibly deformed stomach, which has been much discussed on the Internets of late. It seems to have been over-liposuctioned to the point of turning the underlying muscle into a Play-Doh-like substance. It is quite distracting when she is wearing a bikini, especially in comparison with the normal (albeit unusually flat) stomachs she tends to hang out with at, say, a private club in Monaco.

Image Hosted by
(via Awful Plastic Surgery)

Tara is so drunk on this show that there seemed to be actual alcohol fumes coming out of the tv set. I think I'm hungover! I need to drink a cup of black coffee, put a damp cloth on my forehead, and take some aspirins now. Maybe some Gatorade and saltine crackers...mmmm, crackers.

Thanks a lot, Tara Reid!

No comments: