Amy Schumer has a new show on the Food Network called Amy Schumer Learns To Cook. The premise is, you guessed it, Amy Schumer learns to cook, with the help of her chef husband, Chris Fischer. They film it themselves while their recently re-named baby, Gene
Attell David Fischer, naps. And while most live-in nannies would use a sleeping child as a much-deserved break, Amy’s nanny, Jane, has been put to work as their director of photography. Hey, at least she’s diversifying that resumé.
In the last episode, Amy and Chris made pasta, which Amy paired with the “cocktail” of chardonnay. Then she called up her totally relatable bestie, Jennifer Lawrence (who also recently married a Cook[e]), to talk shop (booze). Jennifer actually picked up. I know, answering a voice call in 2020?! OK, mom.
Earlier this year, Anne Hathaway, a name that makes some reach for the bottle, became the Can’t Relate poster mom to parents who let their screaming brats know they’re going to be in the bathroom with diarrhea for a while but are really guzzling down a bottle of pink wine to deal with the madness of being a parent. Anne was on Ellen and told Ellen DeGeneres that a drop of the sweet nectar won’t touch her tongue until her 3-year-old son leaves the house. Anne said that she said goodbye to booze after picking up her son from school while hungover. And now she tells Boston Common magazine that if they gave Oscars for hangovers, she’d definitely win one (after campaigning like hell for it, I’m sure), because her hangovers are like no other and that’s why she’s done with booze for a while.
The 12-year-old me who humped a pillow in the bathroom while looking at shirtless pictures in Bop! Magazine of the Big Lots version of Vanilla Ice named Bryan Abrams from Color Me Badd is requesting privacy during this difficult time. This story and mug shot has caused 12-year-old me to put the pillow away and cry in a fetal position on the bathroom floor.
In the 90s, Bryan Abrams was known as the pretty-faced boy band crooner with an A+++ overplucked eyebrow situation, and recently he’s been known as an angry ball of rage who beats ladies instead of making them drown their coochies in panty pudding. And when it comes to being a crazy mound of rage, to the tick tock, he don’t stop.
Two minutes and four seconds doesn’t sound like a very long time. Even if you’re enduring something horrible, like getting your teeth cleaned or watching Donald Trump speak, you know that if you only have to endure it for 2:04, you’re gonna be ok. I’m here to tell you it is too long to take if you’re watching a drunk man trying to put his sweater on only his sweater is pants. Too long by far.
I think this video is supposed to be funny, but I could not laugh. I could only stare in awe as my chest compressed from proximal claustrophobia. Maybe you’ll fare better. Maybe you won’t be overcome with existential dread coupled with the words “please don’t let them be Polish, dear God I think they’re Polish” echoing through your head. I hope the next 2:04 are better for you than they were for me.
This could obviously happen to anybody. Once. Maybe twice. Three times I could even understand if you were really drunk enough. But I lost count at how many times he mummified his face in crotch seam. Dogged determination is one thing but dude, take a minute to reevaluate your situation! Regroup, take a few deep breaths, and come at this from a different angle. Even Sisyphus would have taken a break and considered dynamiting that rock to smithereens by this point. I thought it was gonna happen there for a second and I got so excited when he pulled them off and held them in front of his face, but nah.
And I wish a pox upon whoever filmed this. How dare you!? How dare you build all that tension and offer no release?! At a minimum, he could have giggled. But no, we are offered only 2:04 of angry words, a filthy room and suffocating man who will be trying to put his pants on his head on a perpetual loop in my head for all eternity.
Kevin Hart was born in Philadelphia, so naturally he’s a huge Eagles fan and was really happy to be at the Super Bowl with his team. But he drank a lot and got extremely messy.
If you need an appropriate soundtrack to this story, might I suggest the cast of Glee performing “Blame It On The Alcohol.” Apparently that’s what is to blame for Naya Rivera’s recent domestic battery arrest.
Over Thanksgiving weekend, Naya Rivera was arrested for allegedly attacking her on-and-off husband Ryan Dorsey during a family walk in West Virginia. The 911 call Ryan made the night of the incident has been released. According to West Virginia’s WSAZ-3, Ryan claimed his wife was “out of control” and that she was getting physical with him.