1. Hannah Montana/Disney Wknd/$ 29.0 Total/$ 29.0
2. The Eye/Lion’s Gate Wknd/$ 13.0 Total/$ 13.0
3. 27 Dresses/Fox Wknd/$ 8.4 Total/$ 57.1
4. Juno/Fox Searchlight Wknd/$ 7.5 Total/$ 110.3
5. Meet the Spartans/Fox Wknd/$ 7.1 Total/$ 28.3
6. Rambo/Lion’s Gate Wknd/$ 7.0 Total/$ 29.8
7. The Bucket List/Warner Wknd/$ 6.9 Total/$ 67.7
8. Untraceable/SGem Wknd/$ 5.4 Total/$ 19.5
9. Cloverfield/Paramount Wknd/$ 4.9 Total/$ 72.0
10.There Will Be Blood/ParV Wknd/$ 4.8 Total/$ 21.1

THE BEGINNING OF THE END
Mother. Of. God. The end is nigh! The apocalypse doth sit on the horizon as on Super Bowl weekend, the Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus: Best of Both Worlds Concert Tour film (yes, a fucking concert film) made almost $30M dollars! I think we can officially declare the torch passed from Britney. Actually, this isn’t so much from Britney to Miley as it is from Hilary Duff to Miley Cyrus as she was the former tween queen. Not being either a pedophile or having kids, I know little-to-nothing about her or any of this. I just know her dad is none other than Billy Ray Cyrus, Mr. Mullet and Achy Breaky Heart, whose hit kept all the “white people cannot dance” jokes alive for another generation. She’s had a show for awhile, but now has reached critical mass. Let the downward spiral begin! Of course not everyone becomes Jamie Lynn Spears. The worst thing Hillary Duff did was date Joel Madden (he was 25, she was 16) and the worst thing Amanda Bynes (who had a long running show) did was not get prettier as she got older.

EYE DON’T SEE THIS WORKING. GET IT? “EYE?” “SEE?” SIGH.
The Eye opens at number two and this is the umpteenth remake of a Japanese horror film, all of which were prompted by the success of The Ring. The problem is none seem to have the “the hook” that The Ring had or simply only had the same hook: something happens (phone call, tape watching, ordering a certain dessert) and you die. Even The Ring couldn’t go beyond one sequel here whereas it had at least two in Japan. The problem with this isn’t merely, J-horror fatigue (though there is that because how many grey ghosts can you see and still be afraid), it’s that you don’t know what it really is from the commercials or the trailer. Is she seeing ghosts from the past, the future, what? Is she in danger from what she sees? You just don’t know. What’s really funny is that Tom Cruise is one of the producers, making this the bait he tried to lure Jessica Alba in with during his “young wife hunt” that ultimately succeeded with Katie Holmes! So it this for not hooking up with him and Mad Money for the girl who did. Jessica Alba, you made a wise decision.

THE WRITE STUFF
27 Dresses holds strong at number three meaning pretty much everyone involved will benefit somehow. After Katherine Heigl, there’s the screenwriter who also did The Devil Wears Prada, Aline Brosch McKenna. Her price just went up and we’ll try to forget she did Three To Tango, with Matthew Perry and Neve Campbell. Though I do admit a soft spot for Laws of Attraction with Pierce Brosnan and Julianne Moore. But what’s really funny is that she started out toiling on the Margaret Cho sitcom, All American Girl. Who’d have thought in the end, the comedian would wind up being the unfunny one.

WHAT IF SUPERMAN AND WONDER WOMAN HAD A BABY?
Juno actually rises to number four, followed by Meet The Spartans at number five and is that Kevin Sorbo? Man, have we fallen from the glory days of Hercules, which even my general media snob brother (the one I made myself, because my parents gave me none) liked. Yeah, he had Andromeda, but it was no Hercules. Hercules spawned Xena, which still has a following so devoted she got her own comic book last year. But if want to know just how freaking manly Kevin Sorbo is, know that his second son was born weighing 12 POUNDS and his daughter came in at 8 ½ pounds (his first kid was a measely 7). But it’s not just him, his wife is a 5’11’’ ex-model and has a size 11 shoe. These are the overpeople! Fear them for they will take over the world if not stopped!

THE SON ALSO SINKS
Rambo is down to number six, followed by The Bucket List at number seven and Untraceable at number eight and also in this as Diane Lane’s partner is none other than Colin Hanks, son of Hollywood king Tom Hanks and it’s smart for him for taking these kinds of supporting roles in different types of films, because you know someone, somewhere is thinking they can just plug him into lame comedies. He made that mistake once with Orange County. Besides, it’s not like he’s the best looking dude in the world, so leading man role obviously weren’t his future anyway. He’s another one of those celeb offspring who didn’t get even their parent’s good looks and (not like Tom Hanks has that much to give).

PRETTY GIRLS WITH UGLY NAMES
Cloverfield continues to drop hitting number nine in its third week and perhaps the most notable face in this is Odette Yusman, who is on the horrific October Road, where every character speaks in metaphor like those creatures from that episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation---only not as well written and less believable. She kinda looks like Transformers hottie, Megan Fox, only not so slutty. And you know her agent has begged her to change her name, because no one hot is going by either “Odette” or “Yusman.” That’s the name of someone’s grandmother (god forbid she use her middle name of Julliette). She’s actually a former kid actor. Remember her as “Rosa” from Kindergarten Cop? I’m ashamed that I actually remember her from the TV show South Beach.

THERE WILL BE BOOZE
Finally, There Will Be Blood closes out the top ten at number ten and I meant to see this but the Super Bowl and drinking with chicks got in my way. Maybe next week. Whoops. I’m still supposed to go drinking with chicks. At least there’s no Super Bowl.

EVEN THE INTERENET CAN’T REPLACE BOOZE OR BARS
What did people do at work before the internet? I mean, were we really working all that time? I ask because I spend my days at work visiting a variety of sites (my boss quit, so I’ve got some downtime) most of them part of the family of Gawker, which includes, obviously Gawker (New York and publishing), Defamer (Hollywood and show business), Wonkette (DC and politics), Japalonik (cars), IO9 (science fiction), Fleshbot (porn but never at work) and Jezebel which is all chick oriented stuff and, no surprise, I’m very much at home there. They’re all very much like the women who surround me in real life: funny, smart and a tendency to be raunchy as hell (though ironically, none of the women I know care too much for it). The anonymity of the internet only pours gasoline on that fire. Nonetheless, I do tend to look down my nose at real life gatherings of online communities. One of the purposes of being online is that you can somewhat recreate yourself. Shy in real life? Online you’re aggressive to the point of being a bully. That’s not going to carry over to a bar setting. And then there’s the cruel reality of physicality. Let’s face it: if you’re beautiful, you’re not gonna be online a lot. I’m sure Brad Pitt does not have an onscreen name of any kind. This means a lot of shy, ugly fat people getting together. The fact that any post on body image on Jezebel instantly gets a million, usually angry, comments helps to cement that expectation. Nonetheless I still found myself attending one such gathering for Jezebel on a pissing rain Friday night. Ironically, if I still had my gym membership I probably wouldn’t have gone, but now that I’ve embraced my fat-ass destiny, I’ve got three extra nights a week of time to fill. And with a writer’s strike, I don’t have crappy TV to plug into it. This left me with no other option than to be…social. With the opposite sex no less. The gathering was at a bar called The Magician, on the Lower East Side directly across the street from one of my favorite places, Essex, which has killer $1 oyster night during the week and it's right down the block from Verlaine, which has also seen me once or twice. Both bars were introduced to me by Former Miss Pretty Boy and her pal, Star Trek Woman, so I can blame women for my eventual alcoholism. I got myself a drink and headed to the back looking for a group of women, as there are only about three dudes on Jezebel and the other two had vividly described their appearance as only gay men can. I found them quickly and wonder of wonders, unattractive fat people were nowhere to be found! Hell, some of them were just flat out fucking gorgeous. It was really like being out with all my chick friends. It started off, as as one person accurately put it, “ Like one huge blind date” as we awkwardly begin to introduce ourselves to people we literally talk to every day, waiting for the booze to kick it to make it all easier. It was onscreen name then real name and honestly the music was so fucking loud, out of twenty or so people I can only remember the names of three or four. And they didn’t disappoint in conversation. While just waiting for drinks one girl went into detail about how she once dated a partner at a legal firm where she worked (she’s a lawyer) and he liked her pubic hair to fit either 80’s porn (trimmed) or modern porn (totally waxed), but never normal. It had to look porn! Back at the table was a discussion of the moment of panic after a bad one-night stand and how to escape. And this was the very beginning of the night! Some people took to the gathering very easily, others obviously missed the internet where they couldn’t as easily be drowned out by more outgoing people. My favorite refrain for the evening was “No, you’re not!” It’s what more than one person (including the women who run the site) said upon meeting me when I explained who I was online. I’m going to blame my “avatar” which is the picture you use onscreen. I use Captain Kirk, but in my mind that’s how I see myself! By accident or design I spent a lot of time with two very attractive, Black girls. Not just them, but they were usually part of whatever circle I was in (which also usually included the large breasted Indian girl from West Texas and the little Winona Ryder-ish actress). One of the Black girls had a Mucha painting tattooed on her back and she said it was the first time she’d ever been around people who knew who the hell the artist was (yes, I did). The other was apparently from England but had been away long enough to have no accent though still an odd inflection when she spoke. Mucha Girl and I had a lengthy discussion about the greatness of boots (both wore a nice pair) and how it was sad in the summer when you had to give them up. Finally I wasn’t seen as a freak! Of course, it’s not a night out drinking unless some gets too drunk and someone did and she wound up sitting in my lap alternating between insisting we all announce who we’d choose between Hillary and Obama and explain why and bemoaning her ex-boyfriend’s “big cock” and the “hot sex” they had but insisting she wasn’t going back. This was the cause of much, amusement of the other girls there, as I was obviously not enjoying it. That was the first sign maybe it was time to go. The second was when she kissed me and I wasn’t even the first person she’d done that to in the bar. When she went outside for a smoke, I decided it was time to go and found it was just in time. She’d announced to others that she’d soon be making out with me. Thankfully the next gathering is in Brooklyn and you know that’s not happening.

MORE CRAZY ASS CHICKS I KNOW
Dorito Cheeseburger Woman, a.k.a., Karyn Plonsky (I do this now so her name will turn up on Google searches) is seeing some media exposure these days. Not only is she one of the fans on the cover of ESPN Magazine in their feature on…well, fans, but she’s also in the documentary, Taxi To the Darkside which is about how an innocent cab driver in Afghanistan was picked up by our military and essentially tortured to death over five days when it was clear by the third it was a mistake. Yeah, nothing but a good time. I try to support my friends as best I can, but depressing documentaries are where I draw the line. But I did pick up the ESPN issue. She’s the girl in the Seahawks gear, being she’s from Washington state.

BUT WHERE’S THAT PET SHOP BOYS DUET?
I loves me some Shelby Lynne, so when she came out with a new album last week, I was there the day after to pick it up. Unfortunately, her tribute to the late, great Dusty Springfield has attracted more than her usual cadre of fans as it was sold out from my local CD place (Future Legend on 9th and 53rd) in one day. This is good for her, bad for me (though they will hold a copy for me when the next shipment comes in). Fortunately, on her website they run through samples of the songs. I’m not much for remakes, especially when they don’t do something new (like Annie Lennox did with Medusa), but I’ll make an exception for Shelby and her interpretations do bear the virtue of being stripped down, not to mention the extra layer of pain she throws on them (she also covers “Anyone Who Had A Heart” and it hurts like you wouldn’t believe). But she does not do “Son of A Preacher Man” perhaps the one Dusty song she was destined to do. See, like many artists, Shelby is what you’d call…crazy, so while every other Dusty song was game, not the most obvious or fitting. This from a woman who had no compunctions about covering “Ode To Billy Joe” which she nailed like it was a slutty cheerleader on prom night.

LET’S JUST MAKE IT A NATIONAL HOLIDAY ALREADY
I had mixed feelings going into the Super Bowl. The Patriots are dicks so they deserve to lose. Running up the scores like they did was bullshit. But Randy Moss and Junior Seau are Hall of Fame bound and deserve a ring. But then again, so does Michael Strahan and Plaxico Burress doing what he’s done on a bad ankle all year long is nothing short of heroic. Not to mention, we love an underdog, so obviously I was somewhat pulling for Eli Manning, but at the end of the day I hate the Giants because, unlike all you New Yorkers, I’m not a pussy AND I DON’T ROOT FOR NEW JERSEY TEAMS!!! WHY DON’T YOU ALL JUST DROP TROU AND POINT YOUR NAKED ASSES SO THEY CAN KEEP ON FUCKING YOU!?! And I can’t believe NYC tax dollars are going to celebrate a team that doesn’t provide any tax revenue to New York City. Besides, it’s all about the commercials anyway. Justin Timberlake, the Doritos mouse, Budweiser, movie commercials, Underdog/Charlie Brown Coke commercial…all fun, but godaddy.com continues to be the Maxim of TV commercials and I hate that I went to their web site to see Danica Patrick degrade herself and actually hear the word “beaver” come out of her mouth. And the creepy CareerBuilder.com commercials never need to be seen again. I’m going to say I don’t like Tom Petty, but watching him perform is like watching paint dry. How friggin’ old is he? I mean he was big when I was in high school and you know I’m an old fuck. And how much did they pay those kids in the audience to act like they were excited to see him? What hath Janet Jackson’s nipple wrought?