Meet Milijenko Parserisas Bukovic (that’s so weird, MY middle name is Parserisas!). The 56-year-old newspaper vendor from Mexico has 82 tattoos of Julia Roberts, and sources say he may eventually win the prison Oscar for “Most Hardcore.”  Do you think he has one above his armpit that makes it look like she has a huge 70s bush?  God that would be awesome.

He has so far spent a million Mexican pesos (just over £51,000) [$82,000] for the 82 tattoos. The newspaper vendor’s obsession with tattoos of Roberts started after he watched her in Erin Brockovich.

Time out.  You’re paying $1,000 PER Julia Roberts tattoo… in MEXICO? My God, I haven’t heard of someone getting hosed this bad since the people who bought a ticket to Eat, Pray, Love.

The American actress is tattooed all over Mr Parserisas’ body in artwork inspired by a number of scenes from the film. The Roberts fanatic has said that he has plans to get more faces inked on his chest, back and arms.
As long as he has the space on his body and the money, his tattoo tribute will continue. [MetroUK]

Oh, I wouldn’t say he’s a fanatic, just an enthusiast, really.  You think he knows she was wearing a water bra in that movie and that her boobs aren’t really that big?  I mean, I’m not trying to say breast size should be an accurate barometer for obsession… okay, that’s exactly what I’m saying.  I have a tattoo of Julianne Moore on my left testicle.  It hurt a lot, but it’s worth it because I know it will age along with her.

VINCE’S DISCLAIMER: I didn’t make a list of worst movies this year because to do it fairly, I would’ve had to knowingly subject myself to terrible movies. I don’t care what anyone says, you do that often, eventually it’s going to mess you up.  Ever read a film critic who’s seen every Katherine Heigl ass-pile (or whatever the equivalent of Heigl was in 1983) for the last 30 years?  They slowly go insane, they start recommending films like Atonement. Poor Peter Travers used to be the best critic around.  Now he feeds his scabs to pigeons and buries herring in his garden to commemorate krystallnacht.  I don’t believe in seeing every movie and pretending I don’t already have a pretty good idea which ones are going to suck.  Snobby as it may sound, I’m trying to not ruin my taste buds by purposely scalding them on microwaved chili biscuits from Am/Pm.  But I know how people love lists of bad movies. Luckily, for that we have Burnsy. You think that guy worries about his taste?  Dude lives in Orlando. [/end disclaimer]

Putting together a Top 10 list is a grueling process in any genre, but I found the feat of selecting the 10 worst movies of 2010 to be downright painful. It’s primarily difficult because these movies are atrocious piles of cow flop that should cause unparalleled levels of shame to be cast upon the families of everyone involved in them. It was also painful because I watched so much crap this year, and there was so much more crap that I could have watched but just couldn’t. Seriously, The Bounty Hunter? I don’t have the will power to not throw my TV into traffic. But here’s the thing – I enjoy watching terrible movies so much more than great movies because I live to criticize. Vince can tighten his scarf and crank Florence + The Machine from his hybrid IROC while he raves about Hesher, but by all accounts Hesher is a great movie, so nobody’s going to argue.

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Somewhere, Ryan Gosling is really pissed about missing this party

One of the segments in Julia Roberts’ Eat, Pray, Love covers protagonist Elizabeth Gilbert’s trip to Rome, in which she eats until she barfs a lot to help her become a more self-actualized New York intellectual.  A segment Lindy West described as:

There are only three kinds of people in Rome: old Italian ladies stuffed with wisdom like wrinkly brown manicottis, sexy young ladies who do nothing but eat figs sensually with a knife and fork, and really really hot dudes. Opera music plays while Julia Roberts shovels spaghetti into her orgasm face. Julia Roberts buys “big lady jeans” so she can fit more pizza in there. “Let me teach YOU a word,” says Julia Roberts to her really really hot Italian tutor. She holds up a carafe of wine. “THERAPIST.” Har har.

The film opens in Italy this week, and strangely, some Italians have objected to being portrayed as a collection of half-assed outdated stereotypes.  In fact, an exclusive source tells me one man walking by the premiere in a speedo was so upset that he grabbed his crotch and made kissing sounds.

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(Julia Roberts sits down for tea with one of the lesser-known Kardashian sisters, Kurry)

With The Dependables and Michael Cera’s Lesbian Hair Affair opening this weekend, I worry that a fine, life-affirming drama like Eat, Pray, Love might slip through the cracks, like so much moist queef air.   I posted Jim Norton’s review yesterday (“she falls in love with the smell of garbage”), but even that didn’t seem to build anyone’s enthusiasm.  Well, what if I told you the movie was so powerful that it caused a Hollywood actress to adopt an Eastern religion?  That’s right, who’s laughing now?  This is unprecedented.

In her September Elle magazine cover story, Roberts anounces that since her film-making sojourn in India, she and her family now worship as Hindus and go together to a temple to “chant and pray and celebrate. I’m definitely a practicing Hindu.”

Roberts, who was brought up Christian, has already named her production company Red Om Films,” drawing on the mystical syllable Hindus say encompasses the universe. [USA Today]

I wonder if Hindus worry that their status as one of the world’s least-annoying religions will be jeopardized by its association to famous actors.  No one wants to be the next Kabbalah.  But you have to admit at least this much: a six-limbed elephant God is way more awesome than anything the other religions have, unless you count Scientology, and no one does.  Speaking of six-limbed elephant gods, I wonder if Japan has ever produced any Ganesh porn.  Seems right up their alley.

In a related story, Nicolas Cage now believes he’s a sorcerer.

Eat, Pray, Love is set to delight aging white yuppies this weekend, opening against its almost too-perfect male mirror image, The Expendables, and the nerdy alternative, Scott Pilgrim.  Last night on Fox’s Red Eye, Jim Norton gave his review.  Jim Norton is one of the funniest guys around, and it’s a crime he’s not more well known.  He’s probably the ballsiest comedian I can think of, which is ironic as he somewhat resembles a Caucasian eunuch.  Anyway, here are some of the highlights:

“It’s important, Greg, because it says that no matter how bad of a wife you are, and no matter how horrible of an employee, or how bad you are with money, there’s always time for a vacation. …Just get up.  Go to Karachi.”

“And there’s that wonderful scene where she vomits gelato and Jägrmeister into a butter.”

“Through a series of wacky mishaps, Julia Roberts has to learn how to say ‘It’s an emergency, where’s the toilet,’ in 40 different languages.”

“I was the first one to start clapping, because I didn’t know if she would overcome.  It was heartbreaking, these yoga scenes, and I’m sipping my chamomile tea and I’m lactating and I’m thinking about my vagina and motherhood… And then she finally realized what she was supposed to realize, and I don’t want to spoil it for everybody, but it was inspirational.”

[Does she finally find her true love?] “She really does.  She goes to India and she begins traipsing barefoot through the slums, and falls in love with the smell of garbage and a man with one foot.” [So it doesn't matter if you've only got one foot, is that the film's message?] ” That is the message. Because then she holds up his good one and goes, ‘This is gonna go too!’ and then she kisses it and the film ends.”

That was so sarcastic I had to stop and pressurize my ears a couple times like a scuba diver.  The best part is, I’m not sure if he was kidding about the ending, or whether it’d be funnier if he was, or funnier if he wasn’t.

[via Fox, thanks to Jeff for the tip]