What happened to Amy Adams between the Oscars, Charlie Wilson’s war and this atrocity is anyone’s guess. A hit and run? An overextended visit at a starvation farm, or an unfortunate incident at the Orthodontists? Our guess is a combination of the above. In Charlie Wilson, we would have done tongue laps around the spry, delectable Amy, hoping perhaps she might have kicked off her sassy pumps. But now we see a stranger with assisted living forearms, shrunken shins and a mouth invested with a set of those windup chatter teeth you get in a novelty shop. Born in Vicenza, Italy, Amy was raised a Mormon and hoped to be one of fifteen lucky wives to a man with Amish chin whiskers. But that wasn’t to happen. Proving you don’t have to have hooters to be a Hooters waitress, Amy was one for a brief spell then supported herself in acting by working as a hyper smiling Gap greeter, aka Jeans Hostess. The kind you want to choke out, knowing those improbable dispositions are paid for by the hour. Amy’s later decision to move to Chanhassen, Minnesota, the very hub of regional theater is quite understandable. A chance muscle pull then led to a part opposite the immortal Kirstie Alley in Drop Dead Gorgeous- a film in which the audience prayed the cast members would heed the advice of the title. And who could forget Amy in Psycho Beach Party a movie whose unforgettable tagline promised “Beautiful Bikini Babes Stalked by a Munchausen’s Syndrome Patient.” Amy also had the lead in the limited appeal Junebug, a chick flick that turned many a male date into a raving ballerina as one of the victims must have sent Amy his shoes. We could go on and on with how delectable Amy used to look before this current mess she got herself into. In Mormon culture “1″ is unforgiveable. So kick us out of Salt Lake City, Brigham.
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