By Lindsey Bowers
In no particular order, let’s take a look at this year’s hits and misses…
First of all, Angie-Jo wore colour. Actual colour. All over her. And she does sort of look like Ariel’s fin but we can look past this because the woman looks so much more alive when she steps away from the black.
I’ve always rather admired Anne Hathaway. She’s plays likable characters and seems to keep it real – you don’t see her stumbling about without her knickers or colouring herself tangerine like certain other young starlets I could mention. And it’s refreshing to see a celeb who embraces pale skin and curves and isn’t afraid to crack a smile.
But anyway, I now find Anne to be even more of a girl I can relate to because she’s recently confessed that she can’t drive.
The Devil Wears Prada actress surpassed the LA Hollywood life because of this and says: “I’m a terrible driver. The main problem is that I like to think of myself as an artist every once in a while… I get distracted when I drive and I get into the song on the radio or the CD I’m listening to.
“Or I do monologues, like I’ll be doing Juliet’s monologue from Romeo and Juliet and I’ve rear ended someone. I actually did that twice. I would like to thank both of those people for not suing me.”
Anne, sweetie, I so know what you’re talking about. I’ve been learning to drive for what feels like forever now and I think my instructor has had to up his life insurance since I came into his tutelage. I just can’t do it. I can’t concentrate on the road without going into dream-world. I’m the kind of girl who likes to walk places, listening to my ipod and before I know it people are staring at me because I’m screeching out Kelly Clarkson to the whole city.
During my driving lessons my mind will go elsewhere and suddenly I’m swinging out into the opposite lane or going through a red light. I’m more of a liability on the road than Lindsay Lohan driving herself to rehab.
So good on Anne for owning up to being a bad driver and especially good on her for admitting to the rather geeky practise of singing and monologuing to herself. After all who doesn’t indulge in the odd bit of singing into the hairbrush once in a while?
Car Crash Culture 