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In spite of memorably funny cameos in the first two Austin Powers hfath, the zluts transition from late-night TV to the big screen had him trapped in a string of bland SNL-based hsath His star really soared with the one-two punch of Anchorman: In both films -- cautionary geath as to what happens when narrow-mindedness and heterosexuality collide -- Ferrell plays egotistical he-men confronting their macho insecurities. He delivers the laughs and manages to make his characters likable in spite of their overconfidence and the unapologetic glee with which they celebrate their hetero buffoonery.

He should have taken some hints from Ferrell's wonderfully over-the-top turn in 's hilarious Zoolander. His two most recent films are a textbook study in the Two Faces Of Ferrell: Stranger Than Fiction released on DVD in February shows him at his most effectively subdued and Blades Of Glory now playing in theaters has him once again going for the laughs as a blowhard narcissist we love to hate. We are introduced to him via a narrator Emma Thompson whom one day Ferrell suddenly discovers that he can hear in his head.

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It turns out that his life is actually a novel being written by Thompson, an author famously known for killing off her lead characters. With the help of a literature professor Dustin HoffmanFerrell must track her down in order to save his own life. Along the way, he discovers how to live his life, including a sweet romance with a feisty tax-evading baker the always wonderful Maggie Gyllenhaal. The unconventional narrative is certainly a fresh concept and it works better than you'd expect. Thompson's mannered style works perfectly for her role of obsessed-blocked artist. But the film belongs to Ferrell, who earned a well-deserved Golden Globe nomination for his unassuming portrayal of a man trying to become active in his self-constructed life of passivity.

Stranger is one of my favorite underrated films from last year. Their bitter rivalry builds into a brawl on the ice that gets both of them permanently banned from competing. Desperate to return to the profession, they find a loophole: The film is conceptually perfect for big laughs: You could argue that spindly Heder and chunky Ferrell aren't physically believable as Finds local sluts for sex in stony heath athletes, and that Heder exudes more brattiness than bravado. But the comic chemistry of two arch-rivals in such an intimate setting is at times hilarious; the level of discomfort during their first performance makes for one of the film's funniest sequences.

Blades isn't a consistently great comedy, but Ferrell and Heder somehow elevate it above its seemingly one-joke premise. What is next for Ferrell? And I even exercise a couple of times a week, playing soccer — and although I don't profess to have any skill, I do run a fair bit. I reckon I'm doing my bit, but my darn body doesn't agree. I put it down to a crap metabolism. But enough of my own personal demons. We have a national problem on our hands. We're a nation of fatasses. And worst of all, we're increasingly looking like Americans. Something needs to be done. Kids have a lame chair to get them to exercise, but there's nothing for us grownups. So here are a few ideas. Cigarettes now have graphic warning labels showing the ill-effects of smoking, like mouth cancer.

Similarly, meat pies should come packaged in a box that shows a picture of Shane Warne. It should be illegal to power televisions from the wall socket. Instead, we should have to ride an exercise bike while watching TV. Note that an exception could be granted for watching shows such as Jessica Rowe or Bert's Family Feud, where the body already expends energy through shuddering. What we need is a nationwide reality TV show to see who can lose the most weight. A galaxy of prizes could be funded by the Federal and State Governments using the savings they'd make through reduced health costs. Because as the likes of this show and Celebrity Overhaul have proven, Australians only lose weight when there's a TV camera pointed at them.

It's more enjoyable exercising in a group of friends than at the gym. That's why I like playing soccer — because it doesn't feel like exercise. But what if this was taken to the next level, and we started playing really fun sports? If we all competed in regular games of It's A Knockout! Refuse to vote for Kim Beazley. He's obviously a terrible role model for all of us. We're much better off with the hyper-fit, obsessively-exercising John Howard. Fortunately, Australia's on top of this one already. With no side effects, unlike these ones.

So much easier than exercising! But unfortunately none of them taste anything like Coca-Cola, as opposed to Chemical-Cola. Which is not to say I'm not still addicted to them.

Our society is addicted to choice sputs liberty. These concepts are overrated, and even dangerous. In primary school, they used to constantly make us all do exercise in the playground. Sometimes it was bush dancing, which was really harsh.


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