Dear Crabby,
What happened to Vince Vaughn? He looks like he's been run over by a truck.
Signed,
Swingin' at a Star
Dear Swingin',
You ain't just whistlin' Dixie about that truck -- and, if I can take a guess at what that truck may have read on its side, it was "Pink Elephant Liquors." It's been four years since Vaughn was arrested outside a North Carolina bar for his part in a brawl during which Steve Buscemi was stabbed several times (proof that God has turned a deaf ear to all of us, Buscemi lived). Between then and now, it appears have been more of the same for Ben Stiller's third banana, without the benefit of the occasional oxygen tent or a drying-out in the sun, which even Tara Reid has the sense to do -- even if she doesn't have the mental clarity not to spontaneously engage in a little lesbianoic cuddling with Nicole Richie in the process).
Crabby's advice to Vince? Lay off the booze -- and pray Jon Favreau stays small enough to star in a "Swingers: 10 Years Later" sitcom in the not-too-distant future.
P.S. Vince -- the plaid shirt is cool if you're, like, a 21-year-old web designer with the body of an ex-athlete who has found Christ in a 168-hour-a-week coke habit. Otherwise, you just end up looking like the guy across the street who always used to weed-whack his lawn when the 13-year-old girls were lying out in their bikinis.
P.P.S. Owen -- your nose is a penis.