While the specific chain of events that led up to Kristen Wiig’s mysterious midseason ascension into the cast of “SNL” back in November 2005 remain a mystery, nary an episode since has gone by that didn’t feature at least one or two jaw-droppingly best Wiig moments. Whether it’s her original characters like the Target Lady (”Approved!”) or Aunt Linda (”I give ‘Flushed Away’ an ‘Oh, Boy’ and a ‘Ghaa’”) or her spot-on impressions of Judy Garland and Megan Mullaly, Wiig has proven herself to be Lorne’s veritable ace-in-the-hole for her ability to seemlessly blend into any skit or segment. And don’t even get me started on her run of triumphant moments as the fairer half of the Two A-Holes (”You look like a rabbit”)! I know that her character is supposed to be repulsive, but there’s DEFINITELY something in her portrayal of upper-class bitchiness that gets your Uncle Grambo’s heart a flutterin’.

The evidence is undeniable, folks. Wiig is an certified Grade-A comedienne who’s also really easy on the eyes. While she doesn’t have the type of classic features that will land her the cover of lady-rags like Elle or In Style, there’s no doubt in my mind that she’s one of the most attractive women on television. The combination of her intelligence, confidence and winning good looks (hubba!) makes for a very compelling case to stay in on Saturday nights. Wiig … so, so best.

Share This

Take it from someone who spends just as much time pouring through the pages of Advertising Age as surfing gossip blogs, there was NO bigger scandal in 2006 than Julie Roehm’s unceremonious ouster from her position as CMO (Chief Marketing Officer) at Wal-Mart. Considering the salaciousness of the source material (Roehm left Bentonville in disgrace amidst swirling allegations of illegal bribes and “fraternizing” with her subordinates), I was incredibly surprised when this story didn’t gather any steam in any mainstream media¹, let alone turn into a made for TV movie. ESPECIALLY considering that the one, undeniable fact about this entire bedroom meets boardroom brouhaha is that Unruly Julie is this: Homegirl is Built. For. Speed!

I mean, just look at her. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Beaming smile. And, by most (off-the-record) accounts, she’s got the kind of gams that make men stop in their path and stare. Mix in the other key ingredients of her personality (cunningly charismatic, fiercely intelligent), and BAM! What you’ve got on your hands is a living, breathing incarnation of Meredith Johnson. And that, my fine feathered friends, makes her classy AND sexy. Hollaback.

¹ UPDATE (2.5.2007): It seems like the mainstream media is just now starting to catch onto this story. There’s a HUGE feature on Unruly Julie in this week’s New York Magazine, in which she’s simultaneously labeled as a “femme fatale” and “by New York standards, Rachael Ray as a midwestern business executive.” DEVELOPING!

Share This

Take a deep breath, people. Your Uncle Grambo realizes that the following admission may come as a serious shock to even those of you who have known me for years. But now that the clock has struck 2-Bond (2007 = 2-Double Oh Seven, get it? Please credit Freb$ the next time you use this), I feel like it’s finally time to come clean about a habit that I’ve tried to keep secret for years. Now I understand that most of you have come to know me as an energetic person, the life of the party, the kind of sophisticated bitch who NEVER says no to an opportunity to hit the town and party hearty. But behind this facade of extroversion lies a person who, at the end of the day, would much rather be on the couch watching television than out at Marquee downing shot after shot of Hypnotiq with the Lindsay Lohans of the world. I know, I know, total shock to your system, right? Well, get used to it people, it’s the truth. Just deal.

What does this have to do with the next entrant in the Grambo’s Gals countdown, you ask? Well, my friends, it goes something like this.

During my first few weeks here on the isle of Manhattan back in early November, I would often be left to my own devices on Monday evenings. You see, my friend Lindsayism would often have The Senator over to her place for “Girl’s Night” viewings of “How I Met Your Mother”, a show that I turned my back well over a year ago. While I generally bided my time watching Monday Night Football, The Senator would always return home with a smile on her face, raving about how good that night’s episode was. After three or four weeks of this, I decided to acquiesce and set up a season pass for the show on our DVR. And, as luck would have it, not only did the show quickly become one of my favorites, but it also directly resulted in my introdcution to the one and only Cobie Smulders.

What can I say about Smulders that hasn’t already been said? Well, apparently, everything! Because as far as I can gather, nobody, and I mean NOBODY, ever talks about what a megababe Smulders is. The reasons for this glaring omission from the official Babe Register bewilders me to this very day. While she may not radiate the same kind of goddess qualities that someone like Evageline Lilly does, there’s no denying that Smulders is the total package: a legitimate around the way girl (those hips!) with natural beauty and underrated comedic skills. If things were the way they should be, she’d be running circles around all of the prepackaged starlets that The Internets seem terminally smitten with. Pay the others no mind, Smulders; in your Uncle Grambo’s world, you’re both the bee’s knees AND the cat’s pajamas. Hollaback.

Share This

It goes without saying that The Internets have really bad taste in women. If we use the Yahoo! Buzz Index as a gauge, loose-labia’d hoochies like LiLo, Carmen Electra and Jessica Simpson seem dominate every waking thought of today’s American Male. But not your Uncle Grambo, no siree. Which is why I’ve decided to turn the spotlight of hottness on five of the most underratedly brills women who broke onto my radar this year. The women whose very existence made this blogga’s heart flurry and pulse soar over the last twelve months. Beginning with the one, the only…

OLIVIA MUNN

There’s no two ways about it, Olivia Munn is the breakout babe of Oh-Six. In the space of less than one year, she rose from Complete Nobody status (apparently she was on some show on some network called The Noggin) to becoming every geek’s Cream Dream Supreme as co-host of G4TV’s “Attack Of The Show.” Every night at 7pm, her mad multi-ethnic buzz is on display for any and all to fawn over. And fawn they did, especially when AOTS went to Vegas back in August (see below). Appreciate her charms (and those freckles!) while you still can, because 2007 looks like it’s going to be Olivia’s big year — she’s been cast as Rob Schneider’s object of affection in the upcoming comedy “Big Stan.” Are you kidding me, Munn on the big screen? I am SO there.

Share This

Today, my friends, is a special day. For years and years, your Uncle Grambo has silently been scheming and plotting a way to extend the palate of coverage you see here on whatevs (dot org) outside of the realm of the pop culture. In a fortunate twist of events, I was recently introduced to a person (who shall remain anonymous for the time being) who has both a culinary background AND the means to dine at some of this country’s greatest restaurants. After speaking at great length over the course of months and months, I was finally able to persuade this individual to share their experiences with you all, the ravenous members of the FOW Nation.

We have a few reviews queued up that will be released over the coming weeks. Namely, Craft (Dallas) and Bouchon (Las Vegas). But in an attempt to pay tribute to the large percentage of Detroiters frequent this here site, we thought it best to start you off with some local fare. So without further ado, please enjoy The Hand-Some Chef’s review of the Royal Oak, MI staple, Bastone…

Greetings and salutations from the “Hand-Some Chef”, my culinary compadres!!! In the coming months, my Sous Chef and I will be reviewing the restaurant scene, from a fresh perspective — pun intended — exclusively for whatevs (dot org). The goal of the reviews is to give the readers our unadulterated view of the restaurant’s food, ambiance, service, wine list, clientele, etc. With that in mind, let’s get it started.

BASTONE (Royal Oak, MI).

For a place deemed by Hour Detroit as “the hot new dining scene”, Bastone was a disappointment from the minute we walked in — especially considering its billing as a French Bistro/ Belgian Brewery. With the high lofted ceilings, we felt as if we were in your typically trite brew pub. The white-tile wall, in particular, was horribly out of place. Note to the owners: a white-clad wait staff does not a French Bistro make.

As we walked to our table we were disappointed at the appearance of most of the clientele. If this is a “hot spot”, evidently shorts and t-shirts are the posh things to wear out on a Friday night. Although there were some people who came in dressed appropriately, the majority of people dining looked as if they were going to Tony’s Truck Stop for a pound of bacon. And the wait staff, although friendly, seemed untrained and looked as if they just came out of a punk rock concert (definitely not French Bistro).

The meal continued our disappointment. The predominately French menu, with a few Belgian dishes, and a surprisingly large number of burger choices was priced accordingly, based on the predominantly late twentysomething to early thirtysomething crowd. Our meal started with a fried artichoke appetizer which, sad to say, was the best part of our meal (besides the wine). This should not be a positive in any way, how hard is it to screw up fried food?

Anyway, seeing as how Bastone is supposed to be a French Bistro and all, we decided upon the standard fare of Steak Frite, which is supposed to be along the lines of a hanger steak and thin cut french fries. Instead, we were served an overcooked sirloin that lacked flavor with small thick undercooked fries. We managed to consume what we could with the help of two bottles of wine. The first, a Hermitage, and the second, a Cote-du-Rhone (both from the reputable French producer E.Guigal).

As far as the drinks are concerned, the wine list was small but reasonably priced, with bargains for the discerning eye to be found. As with any French/Belgian Bistro, the Cuban Mojito was well-advertised (it’s called sarcasm, people). We tried one of their “famous” Mojitos, being touted as the best, but instead found a below average knock-off made with Rose’s Lime Juice instead of real limes. Thinking about it now, the mojito pretty much personified our entire experience at Bastone. A restaurant without an identity, serving average fare, to a clientele that doesn’t know any better.

The Hand-Some Chef’s Rating: 1 Hand (out of 5).

Share This