Why is Ashlee Simpson just like an all-consuming black hole into some evil hell dimension which guarantees pain, suffering and embarrassment for all those involved? I admit her music is catchy and her features are less plastically frightening than those of her Ken-and-Barbie style older sibling, but man, she is just bad luck manifested in a bouncy, manufactured shell. The fact that during the process of writing this column, the following sacrifices were made are proof enough of my previous assertion: typing “Ashley Simpson McDonald’s” into a Google search inquiry, clicking on links generated by this search, subsequently watching the notorious video in a filled-to-the-brim Uris Library computing lab, writing about said video as the individual on my left diligently researches the modernization of America while the individual on my right carefully tabulates excel sheets for a hotel class. Thanks Ashley.
If you haven’t yet deciphered the subject of this column, you have also probably been denied the unique sensation of horror/fascination recently experienced by those of us who have witnessed what probably ranks as today’s best attempt at an old school reality TV moment: stars behaving badly. Still confused? Here are some words I’ve haphazardly thrown together in an attempt to better communicate the situation: Ashley Simpson, McDonald’s, Toronto, wine, expletives. While promoting her newest album, I am Me, in the charming Canadian city, Simpson decided to pair her decidedly mundane daytime obligations on the night of Wednesday, Nov. 2 with some R&R a la drinks at the Avenue bar (located within the Four Seasons Hotel) after having dinner at an upscale restaurant. All in a day’s work for our favorite pop/rock/mocked princess right? Unfortunately for Ashley, who confesses that by “Tuesday, I am fading” it just happens that “-by Wednesday, I can’t sleep.”
Scene Two: McDonald’s. As I watched grainy footage courtesy of a customer’s camera of this uber blonde music chart topper drunkenly slur insults in her gushy, elevated, little girl voice, I began if the “pieces of me” she had so eagerly promised in the past were gems of verbal articulation such as, “You wouldn’t kiss my foot!” or “Things are going wrong up here.” The video progressed. Ashley brazenly clambered up on the service counter and demanded to see the manager of the fast food restaurant, sporadically letting out a “bitch” or a “fuck you” to a beleaguered employee and a customer in line who had refused the honor of engaging in some impromptu Simpson feet kissing. “I’m nice!” she repeated over and over and over again while betting an employee five million dollars that the manager would reciprocate this “niceness” towards herself.
Like some horrific culmination of past horrors, Ashlee’s visit to McDonald’s tops her burgeoning collection of retarded blunders. Who could forget such Ashley classics as: lip syncing on SNL only to blame it on her drummer and a case of acid reflux as she bubbled with cutesy-ness in a Jude Law embrace, being booed when she tried performing a song during the Orange Bowl in Miami or my personal favorite, having an online petition dedicated entirely to ruining her career (specifically, it urged Ashley to stop recording, touring, modeling and performing).
I can’t deny that a part of me pities Ashley, the poor Ryan Cabrera-ed wannabe songstress who’s probably had to play second fiddle to Jessica I-can’t-believe-it’s-not-chicken Simpson all her life while suffering under the suspiciously tyrannical guidance of father, Joe Simpson. To me, she’s always been that kid who came late to the party: forced into brunette-hood by Jessica’s signature goldilocks look, forced out of her faux punk rock sound by the ever-more-obnoxious Avril and the awkward third wheel in all those Paris-Nicole duos or Lindsay-Hilary feuds (I mean really, do we really expect Ashley to suddenly cuddle up/start trashing Haylie Duff in some famous siblings brand of mayhem). In a world where Ashley Simpson can have the best selling album in America and have tends-to-exhibit-public-obnoxiousness as her claim to fame is a world that frightens, even me.
Archived article by Tracy Zhang
Sun Arts and Entertainment Editor