Cindy: The year's half over and my holiday's coming up.
Vanessa: I wanted to go to Ubeda for the International Film Music Festival but guess who couldn't make it. Will it inspire me to save up so, among other things, I can go to the third one? To be continued.
Cindy: Jessica Biel not quite making up for having a screwed-up name, for her dodgy script choices, for being a jockette and for that Esquire thing, but getting there...
Vanessa: Damn you, Amelie Mauresmo! DAMN YOU! Damn you to Hell FOREVER!
Cindy: Perhaps I should explain the name thing above there. One key ingredient of a famous person is, or should be, a name that has some kind of flow to it; Cindy Crawford has that kind of rhythm. So does Britney Spears. Ditto Jessica Alba. Even Christina Aguileraisacunt. But Jessica Biel... it's like riding a hoverboard smack into an invisible wall. Fortunately Miss Biel's husky voice and comfy curves take up some of the slack. If not her complexion.
Vanessa: Christina Aguileraisacunt. Imagine the scene in the studio as everyone arrives for the "Ain't No Other Man" session...
Producer: "Okay guys, let's do this thing... Christina?"
Insufferable Screeching Ho: "Check."
Producer: "Brasses?"
Lead Horn Player: "Check."
Producer: "Rhythm section?"
Bass Player: "Check."
Producer: "Backing vocals?"
Stereotyped Large Black Female: "Check."
Producer: "Tune?"
Christina: "Oh shit..."
Cindy: This weekend. Sports events are almost over, and maybe, just maybe, I can do a bit of penning.
Vanessa: The failure to spontaneously combust on the part of a) everyone in the press who takes the piss out of Maria Sharapova's loud noise-making and b) George W. Bush, after using the phrase "Stay the course" for the ten zillionth time to describe his pet war.
Cindy: Monica Bellucci, for no real reason.
Vanessa: The Emmy nominations. Aw, please...
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