Mum's not the word for Orlando
Kirsty at large...
My post-holiday-back-to-work blues were lifted this week when I discovered that Sonia Copeland Bloom - the mother of Pirates of the Caribbean star Orlando Bloom - had written to me while I was away.
In the note Sonia explained how she was tired of reading inaccurate press articles about her son and was, therefore, sending out copies of Orlando's CV with "100pc correct" information.
The four-page document includes a head shot of Orlando and a list of glowing reviews, one of which describes him as "this generation's Errol Flynn".
There is also a complete list of his school and college exam results.
It seems that Orlando's proud mam has been distributing the CV to newsrooms around the UK and I'm happy to see she is now continuing the campaign in Ireland.
While completely adorable, I did find it strange that Sonia targeted me; the only article I have written about Orlando was a comprehensive analysis of the time he and Justin Bieber became engaged in naked warfare.
In case you forgot about that incident, let me jog your memory, it began last year when, in what he would later describe as "a moment of freedom", Orlando was caught paddleboarding naked with his ex, Katy Perry.
Twitter went insane as everyone (including me, of course) searched for uncensored snaps.
Not one to be upstaged, Orlando's long-term rival, pop star Bieber, clearly decided that enough was enough.
He threw off his jocks while skinny dipping in Hawaii, and paparazzi circulated the pictures around the globe.
The whole thing was a joy to behold (why can't all male celebrity spats be settled in this way?), but I doubt Sonia was pleased with the carry on or , or any subsequent articles about it.
Aside from being informative, Sonia's letter also proves that no matter how old or famous you are, it remains your parents' inalienable right to embarrass you in public.
There are different varieties of parents who do this, and Sonia falls into the 'Protective Helicopter Parent' trap.
There is the sort of parent who cleans their kid's face in public with spit - even though their youngest is now 30 years old.
My own mother falls into this category - and not only with her children. She once rugby tackled a Jack Russell on Dún Laoghaire pier for the crime of barking loudly at our dog.
Other sub-divisions of embarrassing parents include: The Busy-Bragging Parent - who boasts about their child's remarkable achievements whenever and wherever possible.
Celebrity examples include Chris O'Dowd's dad Sean, who had to be told to stop boasting and posting confidential information about Chris's upcoming film projects online.
Then there is the Know-It-All parent such as Michael Fassbender's dad, Josef, who once offered Willem Dafoe unsolicited acting advice on the red carpet.
For all their faults, these all create a good sort of embarrassment. They are patently well-intentioned actions - just terribly executed.
But there are also the bad sort of embarrassing parents - those who makes the fatal mistake of trying to befriend their children.
Case and point: Justin Bieber's dad Jeremy.
Bieber's dad does not seem to be a very nice man - he once threw a bulldog out a window, and had a Playboy-themed cake at his engagement party.
Jeremy has also been described by Esquire magazine as dressing like all of the following: "a red-carpet fashion correspondent for the Adult Film Awards"/ "a day-shift Atlantic City magician"/ and "the opposite of Jon Hamm".
In response to Bieber's naked photo leak, he tweeted his son asking: "What do you feed that thing?" Barf.
Against that, I would take any and all other embarrassing parent categories.
Sexed-up sprouts and the Goop affect
Goop and sexed-up vegetables have been getting a lot of air time this week.
In the States, Gwyneth Paltrow held her first IRL Goop event.
It was titled 'In Goop Health', and, basically, it involved lots of rich (and predominately white) women getting photos of their auras taken, hooking themselves up to IV drips, or heading straight to the fancy-schmancy oxygen bar to sample the lavender, lemon, grapefruit and eucalyptus oxygen flavours. After all, who needs booze when you have - air?
There were discussions about "grounding slippers" which apparently help you to connect with the Earth's conductivity.
You could also buy crystals to keep in your vagina, and, for an extra couple of hundred bucks, you got to sit with Paltrow herself.
Predictably, articles popped up everywhere presenting the event as being nothing more than lavender scented hot air.
I also rolled my eyes until I came across a separate article all about sexy carrots and peas - bear with me.
This week a team at Stanford University revealed that people are more likely to eat healthily if vegetables are given 'seductive names'.
So runner beans become "sizzling string beans", while carrots are sold as "twisted citrus-glazed carrots".
Reading the article, I hung my head in shame; when I was on holiday, I knowingly paid €10 for a bowl of the lowliest of vegetables - Brussels sprouts.
But these weren't just any Brussels sprouts - these were sexy sprouts; "tossed in a lime and balsamic vinaigrette and sprinkled with Himalayan pink salt".
I now realise I was duped, falling for one of the most glaringly obvious marketing ploys going.
If I'm stupid enough to pay €10 for sprouts (a kilo cost €1 in Tesco by the way) - can I really criticise a woman for walking around in grounding slippers with a jade pebble in her vagina?
Comfy, chic and cool.
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