Elijah Pood.

After drying up my college bank accounts on Lean Cuisines and copies of OK! and InTouch magazines, I can say that I know more celebrity gossip than everyone I know. But oh, it's lonely at the top. So here it is, reincarnated as a blog from a failed flowerviolence band: Lionel Richie's Haircut.

I christen this blog with a photograph of Elijah Wood as a baked potato. Rob insists “burrito!” but I say nay: the gold/silver foil duo is distinctly pomme de terre. I just want to butter him up, dunk him in some sour cream, and kick up my feet with a Diet Coke and a good episode of The Nanny. Or maybe this is Elijah Wood's attempt at jumping on the futuristic bandwagon? Gaga-tato?


To find this particular gem, I had to visit the Elijah Wood fansite, and let me tell you, what I found there wasn’t pretty.



Another thing about Elijah Wood: he always has this sort of “I-just-shat-my-pants” look about him that leaves me feeling a little unsettled in the intestinal region. It's some terrible combination of the bug eyes and the stank lip.




Elijah Wood: "I just shat my pants and kinda liked it."

I want to give him a straw and a pack of Huggies. Maybe I'm being unfair; those last three pictures are pretty old. Now at least he's embracing anachronistic facial hair to achieve that classic "musketeer" look.

God, look at his little poopie face. I feel like I just killed a kitten.