Thursday, September 30, 2004

When will Paris Hilton's reign of terror ever end? Apparently never. The latest dish has it that she uses the "n" word on her 12-hour sexcapade videotape. Rush and Molloy of the New York Daily News report:

"Paris Hilton has two faces - and one of them is very, very ugly.

In a recently surfaced 12-hour videotape, Hilton is shown in a rather disturbing scene with two African-American men who ask her if she would model their fashion line.

Hilton, standing with pal Brandon Davis, is polite to the men, but calls them "dumb n--s" after they leave, according to British reporter Carole Aye Maung, who reviewed the tape.

"Two ... guys begin talking to her," Maung told us. "She's being very, very sweet to them. [But] she definitely uses the N-word. It's so cruel, because they were so lovely, and she was being so lovely to them."

Hilton's reps refused to comment when asked about this specific incident on the tape, first uncovered by Star magazine."

OK. First of all, I disagree with the first line of this report: ANY AND ALL of Paris' faces are ugly. Hideous, in fact. Now we know that she is equally hideous on the inside. And here I was laboring under the delusion that she was merely stupid and soulless. She's stupid, soulless AND racist! What a winning combination! Let's make sure she gets even RICHER by buying her "book" and her "jewelry" line in droves, shall we?
Can this possibly be true? The IMDB is reporting that there's trouble in paradise with "Newlyweds" Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey! I only saw the first season, but apparently the second season has a lot more fighting in it, and that seems to be the only basis whatsoever for this report:

"MTV reality stars Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey are allegedly considering ending their marriage because the former 98 Degrees hunk is sick of her "dumb blonde" behavior. The Nick And Jessica: Newlyweds couple have shocked viewers with their outrageous rows on the show's second season, which features Lachey calling Simpson a "pampered bimbo", fuelling speculation the couple are drifting apart. An insider tells Britain's Daily Sport newspaper, "They are pretty much living separate lives these days. I wouldn't be surprised if both of them are back on the market in a few months." Lachey reportedly complained, 'If I'd wanted a bimbo, I would have married Paris Hilton.'"

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Yes, why on earth would anyone willingly marry a dumb bimbo? A hot, rich dumb bimbo in an S & M outfit handing you drinks? It simply doesn't add up.

OK, I just noticed that the main source for this story was Britain's Daily Sport, which is a very well-known and highly-respected journal of gossip. (Snort!) The Great Felt Uppette, all-knowing and all-seeing, doth predict that within hours there will be a "joint statement" from The Lacheys, denouncing this terrible gossip as "totally false" and announcing yet another marriage vow renewal ceremony at an undisclosed location....

Across the pond, the drama queens are getting into a bit of tizzy over theater-goers' behavior. Or should I say, "theatre-goers behaviour?" Kevin Spacey has been throwing total hissy fits about the "rude" attitudes of his audiences in London, as his finely-honed thespian skills go unnoticed amid the scrunching of candy wrappers and cell-phone rings. Now, cell phone talking (or should I say "mobile chatting?") I can see. That's pretty annoying even in a crummy movie. But candy wrappers? Every man, woman, and child has the god-given right to stuff their faces with "sweets" during a Kevin Spacey play. Not to mention down several cocktails and take a Valium or three. Anyway, Joseph Fiennes threw himself into the fray by declaring that Spacey is a total wanker. Or something very close to that. Here's the good ole IMDB again:

"British actor Joseph Fiennes has accused Kevin Spacey of encouraging dull, formal theatres - by criticizing noisy audiences. The American Beauty star, who is currently artistic director of the Old Vic theatre, launched a scathing attack on theatre-goers who didn't switch off their mobile phones, or opened sweet packets during performances. The Enemy At The Gates star counters, "I think that it is sad that anything as minimal as crushing sweet papers has been picked up on. Here at the Young Vic, we are against that sort of arch, slightly bourgeois environment, with expensive seating and that sense of formality. We want to be more than that." David Lan, Spacey's counterpart at the Young Vic, adds, "Basically, we think exactly the opposite of Spacey. We would like audiences to be made up of people coming who don't normally go to the theatre. We want to put on big, difficult productions. We don't mind noisy audiences."

Yay, Joseph! I LOVE that YOU, the Royal Acadamy of Dramatic Arts-trained thespian from the land of Shakespeare, are implying that Kevin, who would have given his right nut to be a RADA-trained thespian from the land of Shakespeare, is arch and bourgeois! God, Kevin Spacey is so incredibly annoying. I liked some of his movie performances, especially in "L.A. Confidential," but he is really, really irritating in real life. All the talk of The Theatah. All the singing. Oh, God, the singing. Someone, please, make the man stop singing! Oh, I just realized his Bobby Darin biopic is about to be released. MORE SINGING! AAAAAAAH! Not to mention the "yes, I'm gay/no, no I'm not" stuff. Just admit it! Who cares? You always take your mother to the Oscars anyway, you might as well just hang an "I'm Gay" sign around your neck and be done with it. In the mean time, Joseph Fiennes wins extra credit points because his brother Ralph is dating an older lady who played his mother in a play they were in together!

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I can't help it. This article dealt with Joseph, but heart belongs to Ralph. And my favorite Ralph was Nazi Ralph. He was so much beefier, and more evil. Swoon!

Wednesday, September 29, 2004

Warning: Some, but not all, of this post was also on my Myspace blog. I am but one woman, yay, but I hath two blogs...

Anyway, last week I finally got to see "America's Next Top Model," which many people have told me I would love. And how right they were! My favorite model wannabes were YaYa (despite her pimples), Eva (so evil, yet perhaps just to hide the scars of a painful childhood), and the plus-sizers (naturally). There was this one girl from Miami named Tiffany who cried when she didn't make the cut because she didn't want to go back to "the hood," and this was after she'd gotten into a bottle-throwing fight at Barney's Beanery with some sorority girls one night and OMG it was so dramatic, she had a big gash on the back of her only question was: Why is it America's Next Top Model or The Hood, Tiffany? Why is there no inbetween? Say, catalog work or the makeup counter at Macy's?

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"Bitch poured beer on my weave!"

Oh, it was all so great--bitchy insults (esp. Eva to the frighteningly thin anorexic girl who claimed to be on "weight-gain shakes"), rejected models sobbing on bathroom floors with Tyra Banks comforting them, a stripper from Oklahoma trying to make good, and the biggest drama of all--one of them is legally BLIND!!! Yes, that's right, I said BLIND! Everyone was in tears when she told them--even Eva! She will be totally blind sooner or later. What if she wins and then she goes completely blind during a fashion show and she trips and falls and it's just like "Ice Castles" when Holly Lynn Johnson trips on the roses and everyone in the audience goes eerily silent? HUH? WHAT ABOUT THE ROSES?? AAAAAAH!!

Tonight was the second episode. The girls were flown to NYC, where they met Tyra on the rooftop of some building and were informed that they were about to be immediately flown to Jamaica for a bathing suit photo shoot. Why they had to tell them on a rooftop, I don't know. More drama, I guess, it's always about milking the DRAMA. They also drove around NYC a little, and became so, like, ANNOYED by wealthy 19 year-old "white girl with a tan" Kelle, who grew up in "the last gated community in New York" and works at Christies and kept talking about how rich she was and how all her friends were white. The resentment of the other model wannabes, especially the black ones, came to a fever pitch during a "pick your worst feature" confession session with Tyra. Rich Girl said she hated her big lips which she said from the side look like "monkey lips." This did NOT sit well with the other African-American ladies in the house, oh, no it did NOT. Then Plus Size told Rich Girl to her face that everyone had been talking behind her back and hated her, which led, of course, to TEARS, and Rich Girl sobbing "If people ask me what kind of pants I'm wearing, I'm going to say Gucci, I can't help it!" and somehow finding solace in the arms of Blind Girl. They are forming strange alliances left and right on this show, and I LOVE it!

Then it was off to Jamaica, and during the flight we see that Ann, the Evil White Biyatch (who is best friends with Eva, the Evil Black Biyatch) is afraid of flying and is totally co-dependent. She kept calling Eva "mommie" as she lay her head in her lap to be comforted. Spoooooky!

Then the modeling began in earnest. They put the girls, wearing bikinis and high heels, on some lava-type rocks on a beach and shouted at them to be "animalistic." AWESEOME! Some of them, like YaYa, my fave, and Plus Size, my second fave, were total naturals and could pose like they were born supermodels. Others, like almost all the rest, were floundering around on their heels and had a hard time getting their animalistic side across to THE CAMERA. I'm amazed Blind Girl was able to make it at all! Mr. Jay was shouting and shrieking, and the best line of all was from Miss J, who said very approvingly of one wannabe model's slack-bodied pose: "I am so loving the broken-doll thing." Then came the cut: Latina nursing student was OUT, I guess because she didn't have the animalistic broken-doll thing quite down. I thought she was really pretty and down-to-earth and likable, and so of course she stood no chance.

So then they sent digital pictures of the shoot to Tyra, who was shown propped up on pillows in a huge bed, looking at her laptop while tele-conferencing with Team Jamaica about the pros and cons of each wannabe. Then they flew the girls back to NYC and their enormous suite at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, which had been totally America's Next Top Modeled-out! They had lampshades covered with Tyra's face! The bedrooms had names like "The Couture Room"! Then came the requisite drama over who would sleep where, and with whom, and in what theme (the Indian one went for the Eastern-themed room--hee hee!) with E.W.B. Ann all upset and crying because her "mommie" Eva B.B. didn't make a fuss when it turned out they couldn't sleep in the same room. Spooooky!

Now we get to the good part: JANICE DICKERSON FINALLY SHOWED! She had been absent thus far, I guess she didn't want to demean herself with the lowly lesser-ranked wannabes. Her fake boobs were all hanging out and she looked like Cruella Deville without the white hair. They had her and some awesome guy with a funny accent and an even funnier tiny dog perched atop a wee velvet pillow in front of him, and Tyra, and some English dude, and they were all at a long table in a big room. They made each girl go up to the table and look at her best swimsuit photo and then they dissected her flaws ("It was like you were DEAD!") and Janice said to Plus Size: "You may give these skinny bitches a run for their money!" God, I looooooove nutty Janice "Everything About Me Is Fake And I'm Perfect" Dickerson!!!

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"You are way too alive and healthy! Broken doll! Broken doll!"

They kept going on and on about how DEAD E.W.B. Ann looked in her pictures, but in the end she didn't get cut, probably because the producers are no fools and know that she if she continues with her incredibly potent combination of evil white biyatchery and co-dependent nutballiness, they are looking at television GOLD. So they cut someone who was so unmemorable I don't know a thing about her except that Tyra kept telling her that her "head rhythm was off' or somesuch nonsense ("It should be tilt, roll, un-unh, but you were all roll, un-unh, tilt, tilt, TILT"--I'm paraphrasing, but you get the jist. Supermodeling is full of highly technical language and I am NOT a polyglot, except for faux French, people!).

Next week's episodes has some sort of "revelation" that could potentially expell more than one contestant, and, I'm assuming, more crying, back-stabbing, and tiny dogs on velvet pillows. I CANNOT WAIT!!!BEST SHOW EVER!!!
Besides the Harriet Carter catalog, I also got my Us Weekly today. It seems to have gotten a glossier new cover. Inside, it's the SOS, thank god. The cover has Britney Spears and a headline screaming: "Did She Fake Her Wedding?" I have to say that I'm getting just the wee bit bored with all this nuptial hoo-ha. It's only going to last a year--if that!--so who cares if they faked their wedding or not? For those who care, apparently it's all about the prenup. SHE wanted to give him $36,000 a year for a length of time equal to half their marriage; HE demanded $300,000 a year. Hey, Britney, unemployed back-up dancers are not a dime a dozen! Get real! She also won't support his two kids (well, why should she?). And my favorite part of all: The prenup states that "any gift (other than jewelry) valued at $10,000 or more requires a legal document stating who will own it if they split." How romantic! I guess the head scarves are his to keep, free and clear.

The rest of the mag is kind of a snooze. "Childhood Sweethearts: Who Worked, Who Didn't" has Joey Fatone and his high-school sweetheart big bride, Fred Savage and his small one, and the Jon Bon Jovis as examples of those who "made it." Strangely they also list Nicky Hilton and her husband--who 13 YEARS OLDER than she is. Those who didn't "make it" include Josh Hartnett and his nobody girlfriend, Ben Affleck and his, Ashley Olsen and her slightly older boyfriend who she dumped for a much older one, and Demi Moore with her bizarrely-coiffed-and-bespectacled ex-husband Freddy Moore, who was ALSO 13 years older than her at the time. I'm sorry, but if they didn't grow up together, they are NOT CHILDHOOD SWEETHEARTS!! Just because one half of the couple is A CHILD, that doesn't count! I'm sorry, but I'm a stickler for these things.

There's of course a lot of Emmy fashions--Babs, Meryl, and Kirstie all bad, according to the Us style avatars; Jennifer Anniston (yawn), Sarah Jessica Parker (sigh), and Kirstin Davis (ok, she's cute and I like her)--all good. They actually liked Mischa Barton's faux flapper dress, the one that on her particularly skeletal frame looked like a combination Faberge egg/flour sack. And washed her out completely. Also more capelets, shawls, and ponchos than you can shake a really boring stick at in the "Fall's Sexy Wraps at Every Price" featurette. Lord help us, the capelets are TAKING OVER THE WORLD!

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AAAAAAAAH! Run for your lives!

Oh, and in the "Loose Talk" quotes page, there's this gem from "Flapjacks" Paltrow, on the topic of Jessica Simpson:

"I'm glad that there's one super-popular girl in America who's not drunk, sleeping with tons of people and wearing...inappropriate outfits."

Hurrah! I just got the new Harriet Carter gift catalog in the mail! I know, I know, she's no Lillian Vernon, but she's got SCADS of great gift ideas! This is isn't really gossip, but there is a celebrity-related item down at the end. So in the spirit of the holidays--which are just around the corner!--I give you a personally-chosen sampling of the cornucopia of fine products available to you via the catalog or by going to! My birthday's coming up, too (hint, hint)!

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First up we have a staple of the Harriet Carter inventory: The novelty food-related clock. Note that the description mentions "dorm room" as possible hanging place--for what college student in their right mind wouldn't get a MILLION laffs from this delightful time piece?

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Now, this is just plain handy. As anyone who has seen my Precious Moments figurine collection knows, you can NEVER have too much shelf space! And, best of all, a cat curio shelf is sure to enchant even the finickiest of house guests! Meow!

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Not everyone is cat-lover, though, so don't forget Rover! I think my own dear, sweet mother would ADORE this cute-as-a-button pooch! And every single person who approaches gets barked at--an extra bonus Mom is sure to enjoy day in and day out for eternity!

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Thanksgiving is just around the corner, and nothing celebrates our Native American brothers than a stuffed turkey chair cover! They'll be sure to forgive us for the Trail of Tears after they've rested on comfy ole Tom Turkey!

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And finally, something for the religious-minded. As you all know, Ronald Reagan was recently elevated to saint/deity status, and what better way to pay homage to our new God than to purchase this St. Gipper medallion--just in time for Christmas!
Well, I guess the rumors that Britney had to buy her own wedding ring and pay for her entire wedding were exaggerated. Apparently, unemployed back-up dancer, father of two, and Cheeto enabler Kevin Federline has gone into debt for his blushing bride. According to MSNBC, Mr. Spears took out a loan to pay for the plain platinum band he bought Brits, and to help defray some of the costs of their sacred, holy nuptials:

"Kevin Federline reportedly had to take out a loan to buy his multi-millionaire wife’s wedding ring. It’s a platinum band with no diamonds; the ring Spears gave to Federline, however, is platinum with diamonds.

Britney allegedly made the revelation to defend Federline — her former backup singer who has two children by another woman he didn’t marry — against charges that he’s a gold-digger or freeloader.

'I am very annoyed with some reports speculating such [garbage] that I had to pay for the wedding myself and that I even had to buy my own ring,' the World Entertainment News Networks quotes Spears as saying. 'It’s simply so not true. Kevin took out a loan to contribute towards the wedding and so he could buy me my band. He insisted. It’s so hurtful when this kind of thing comes out. Kevin pays his own way and I wouldn’t have it any other way.'

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Well, who WOULDN'T loan this man money?

I for one think it's kind of sweet, if slightly pathetic, that he felt the need to go to a loanshark or whatever (seriuosly, what financial institution on earth would give him a loan? did he use Britney herself as collateral?) to buy his lil' gal a ring and help pay for the chicken fingers at the wedding reception. Not to mention the "Pimp" tracksuits. But what, praytell, about his babymama and two babies? Did he take out a loan to pay child support? If I were Shar, and I wake up every day and thank God Almighty that I am NOT, I would be so beyond pissed right now that I wouldn't be able to STAND it. I would just go OFF. She and Britney need to settle this where it should've been settled a long, long time ago: On the DANCEFLOOR. They need to have a real dance-off, not that fake stunt the tabloids reported a few weeks ago. Shar needs to give Kevin a big shove, go into some Fly Girl moves, and get all up in Britney's face and shriek, "You just got SERVED!" It would really let the healing process begin, I think.

MSNBC is a treasure-trove of gossip, who knew? I thought it was all boring stock quotes and whatnot, but they have a pretty good non-news division as well. They ran another item today in which Gwyneth "Flapjacks" Paltrow gets all bi-yatchy about "Catwoman," which is really like kicking a dog when he's down, don't you think? The headline screamed that Flapjacks was "getting catty about 'Catwoman'":

"While promoting her new flick, “Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow,” Paltrow blasted 'Catwoman,' saying that both the movie and the character were 'unoriginal.'

Paltrow said she had originally wanted to star in the action flick, but prefers films such as “Sky Captain.”

She explained that “'if [the film] was going to fail, it was going to fail, but I wanted to take that risk and not be in a standard Hollywood adventure. After seeing ‘Catwoman,’ I thought the character and movie were unoriginal.'"

Oh. Damn. Maybe in MSNBC Land this is considered "catty talk." I thought she was going to be all "Halle Berry is a pathetic loser who can't keep a man and isn't near as pretty or talented as me. I can't believe she won an Oscar for that stupid death row movie, there wasn't even a fake English accent in that performance or anything difficult at all. Who COULDN'T pretend they were sexually attracted to Billy Bob Thornton? You call that ACTING?" THAT'S "getting catty" in my book. Not "Catwoman is an unoriginal character."

But can I just say one thing, Flapjacks? DUH. You are talking about a CARTOON character that has been done to death in comic books, tv shows, movies, sequels, etc etc, by a slew of actresses over the years. I'm fairly certain that it's one of the only roles that both Eartha Kitt AND Michelle Pfeifer have played, although I'm not a historian. So get off your high horse, Flappy, because you were TOTALLY hot for that role like every other actress in Hollywood was and you lost out to Halle because you have the sex appeal of a sack of very skinny potatoes. AND you yourself have played some not-so-original characters in your perfect, hallowed career: How about the ditzy stewardess with a heart of gold in "View From The Top"? So go feed Applejacks and shut up.

Tuesday, September 28, 2004

NEWSFLASH!! Paris Hilton is an overexposed dumbass ho!

Yes, it's true! Believe it!

In unrelated non-news, Richard "Dick" Johnson is reporting that yet ANOTHER Paris sex tape has surfaced, apparently part of the loot stolen from dummie's house a while back. The new tape features ex-Paris boyfriend/abuser Nick Carter in one scene (gag me with a spoon!) and the other has her ca-nude-ling with another ex, a model named Jason Shaw. Johnson breathlessly writes:
"Hilton is said to be shown 'writhing in the back of a car as she is groped intimately' by former Backstreet Boy Carter. In another scene, Paris answers the the door buck naked — wearing only a "pore strip" across her nose — for Tommy Hilfiger model Shaw...

Elsewhere in the video, Hilton reportedly puffs on a joint, chirping, "Paris Hilton, part two: How to roll a joint!"

The 11 minutes of steamy footage obtained by the British paper is believed to have been culled from about 12 hours of video stolen from Hilton's rented Hollywood Hills home last month."

OK, obviously the standout scene is going to be Paris naked but for a "pore strip" on her nose! Had she forgotten she was wearing it? Or did she think it was "sexy"? Or funny? The joint smoking is boring, and I imagine so is the "backseat boy" groping--too much blonde hair and fake tans to figure out what is going on.

Oh, Paris. How could you CONTINUE to make sex tapes? Do you know how much sympathy I have for you, idiot? NONE. LESS THAN NONE. I hope it is downloaded eight hundred gazillion times by horny teenage boys across the globe over the next 24 hours. As long as I don't actually have to see any of it. EEEEK! Paris Hilton naked with a pore strip!

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I find a box of pore strips infinitely more interesting and attractive than Paris herself. I believe it has a higher IQ as well.

Monday, September 27, 2004

NEWS ALERT! In 2009, The Tonight Show will cease to suck ass! The NY Times is reporting that Conan O'Brien will replace Jay Leno as the host of the coveted tv show when Leno steps aside. Hurrah!

Here are some details, albeit in a dry, stodgy, well-written Times-y way that rings so harsh and foreign to my Star-and-Us-Weekly-attuned ears:

"NBC announced today that Conan O'Brien will succeed Jay Leno as host of the `Tonight` show at the end of Mr. Leno's current five-year contract in 2009.

Mr. O'Brien signed a new contract today that guarantees he will take over "Tonight," still the leading show in late-night television, at a yet to be determined date in 2009.

NBC made the news official in a press release this afternoon, after it was announced to the staffs of both shows early this morning. Mr. Leno planned to tell his own television audience of the decision on his program tonight, on a show that had already been billed as a special edition of the program because it is the official 50th anniversary of the first broadcast of "Tonight," with Steve Allen as the host.

Mr. O'Brien, who has hosted the 12:35 p.m. NBC show "Late Night" for more than 11 years, had made it plain in interviews that his goal was to reach an 11:35 p.m. late-night show soon.

He was expected to be heavily sought after by other networks had NBC not managed to re-sign him.

NBC executives said today that Mr. Leno was instrumental in making the new arrangement, having agreed when he signed his latest deal in March that he would be willing to step aside for Mr. O'Brien in 2009. He will be 59 at that point. Mr. O'Brien will be 46."

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Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Haaaaaaaaalleeeeeeeeeluuuuuuuujah! My only concern is that NBC will try and water down some of the raunchier material that is of course the best part of Conan's show. If they mess with Triumph the Insult Comic Dog I will have no choice but to sic Sinead O'Connor on them. Oh, why do ye mess with perfection, ye imbeciles at NBC? Yes, I've decided to speak Sineadese for the rest of my natural life. Just ye try and stop me!

Well, take this bit of non-news with a grain o' salt, because who the hell knows if it's true or not? The rumor going around is that Britney Spears is carrying the third spawn of Kevin Federline in her becheetoed belly. I don't want to alarm anyone, but I'm pretty sure this is all written down in the Book of Revelations as Step One in the the Armageddon. Next up: The sea turns red, the sky pours down frogs, and a leviathan washes ashore in Santa Monica. According to the IMDB:

"Pop idol Britney Spears has told family and close friends she and husband Kevin Federline are expecting their first child, according to reports. British newspaper The Mail On Sunday claims the couple brought their wedding last weekend forward from its planned November date, because the pop princess is eight weeks pregnant. A source tells the newspaper, "Britney has told only her family and closest circle that she is pregnant. She is ecstatic. Britney only learned she was expecting recently and she's less than eight weeks pregnant. It's why she pulled her wedding date forward to September." If true, the news would mark a remarkable year for the beauty, who was married to childhood friend Jason Alexander for a mere 55 hours in January, before her whirlwind romance with Kevin Federline."

Aaaaah, yes, the whirlwind romance. Let's take a wee stroll down memory lane, shall we? Lo, those five months ago, when it all began, it seemed so innocent: A weaselly mustachioed back-up dancer with a pregnant girlfriend, being flown to London to service his Louisiana Lady. Then the courtship began in earnest: Balcony crotch-grabs around the globe, balcony make-out parties, balcony Cheeto-n-cigarrette tossing. Then, one perfectly lovely day, she got down on bended knee and proposed to her man, presenting him with a ring she had bought for him to hand back to her. Then came the blessed pre-nups, the precious birth of his second child by his baby mama, the holy, sacred, fake-out wedding plans, and finally wedded bliss in pimp track suits. And now this, the stickiest bun in the oven ever conceived. It's EXACTLY like "Romeo and Juliet," ya'll. Totally.

Now on to some good old-fashioned nutballery. Poor, demented Sinead O'Connor is at it again, begging for people to make fun of her by running an ad begging people to stop making fun of her. The IMDB reports:

"Irish singer Sinead O'Connor has taken out a full-page advert in a national newspaper begging people to stop "ridiculing" her. The 2,000-word ad, in the Irish Examiner, is in response to criticism she received after calling for a "national delousing day" to rid children of head lice. The 37-year-old feels she has been mocked and berated for the past 20 years. O'Connor says she feels she has been "consistently ridiculed, lashed and called mad" by people who don't know her. Her plea reads, "It has taken a severe toll on my health and has had consequences for my life which have resulted in me being really fair game apparently for really an awful lot of people to really crush and sh*t on. I don't think there can be any person male or female from this country who has been as consistently lashed as I have been and always am no matter what I set out to do. If ye all think I am such a crazy person why do ye use me to sell your papers?...why do ye bother writing about me at all?" While O'Connor concedes she is "unconventional" and has been a "little s*** stirrer", she adds that if Bono received the same adverse press, he would 'kick you asses'."

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"Why do ye make fun of me?"

OK, I'm not all that up on my Irish literary references, but please god let her be quoting someone famous with all that "ye use me to sell your papers" stuff. But if she's comparing herself to James Joyce or Oscar Wilde you can add "delusions of grandeur" to her long list of mental illnesses. She is writing herself a one-way ticket to the loony bin! Did she not see "Frances?" Hello? Sinead? You know why people "consistently ridicule" you? It's because you do things like a)call for a "national delousing day" and b)take out full-page ads in newspapers that use the word "ye." Not to mention the whole "am-I-a-lesbian-priest-or-am-I-a-1950s-style-hausfrau?" thing that you've gone back and forth on for the last decade. Either get a grip or go into seclusion like a normal crazy person! The Una Bomber made more sense than you do, lady!

Friday, September 24, 2004

WARNING! THE FOLLOWING POST IS IN VERY POOR TASTE! OK, I just can't help it. I know this is a terrible tragedy etc etc, but I cannot help giggling over this headline from CNN:

"Body of missing Sara Lee executive found frozen"

It's like something from The Onion come to life (or death)! Here's a few more details:

"A retired Sara Lee executive missing since he met with a couple about buying his sport utility vehicle was found dead Thursday, frozen in a rented storage unit. The couple was arrested in what federal authorities believe was a bungled carjacking."

Apparently they "accidentally" killed him by ducktaping his mouth shut, and he suffocated in the car, so they put him in the deep freeze, alongside an assortment of Sara Lee frozen pound cakes, cinnammon rolls, and breafast entrees. Nobody doesn't like Sara Lee!

Oooooh, tough room! (Motion of me pulling collar loose.) Try the veal!
Soooooooo, Cynthia Nixon is a sexual switch hitter, apparently. She "came out" to the NY Daily News, saying that she is currently seeing a woman. I guess this news would be ever so much more interesting if it weren't absolutely no surprise at all, since she had a kind of lesbian-y persona all along, so this is just kind of...dull. Now, if it turned out that Sarah Jessica Parker was gay, AND a beard for her creepy wax-figure pasty lump of a hubby Matthew Broderick (seriously, what has HAPPENED to that guy?) and his fish fetish or whatever (a la Troy McClure from the Simpsons), then THAT would be semi-exciting. This is just a yawn. But what the hell, here's what the Daily News had to say (OF COURSE THE HEADLINE WAS "SAME SEX IN THE CITY." Quelle originale!):

"Cynthia Nixon is trying a different kind of sex in the city, the Daily News has learned.

For almost 10 months now, the Emmy-winning actress has been dating another woman, sources say.

Back in June of 2003, Nixon split with Danny Mozes, the father of her two children. Last January, according to friends, she began a lesbian relationship.

Right now, Nixon, 38, does not want to be as outspoken as Rosie O'Donnell, the sources say.

But Nixon did not flinch when we asked her yesterday whether she is involved with another woman.

Speaking exclusively with the Daily News, she said, "My private life is private. But at the same time, I have nothing to hide. So what I will say is that I am very happy."

Word is that Nixon's partner is not in show business.

"She's just a private citizen who would like to remain private," says a friend...

Also, she just signed on to play Eleanor Roosevelt - rumored to have had a lesbian relationship with reporter Lorena Hickok - in the HBO movie "Warm Springs," in which Kenneth Branagh plays FDR."

That's nice how they tried to grasp at lesbian straws with the whole Eleanor Roosevelt thing. As if now that she's dating a woman, Cynthia Nixon will ONLY be portraying lesbians/rumored lesbians from this point forward. Next up: "The Martina Navritalova Story (Love Match)." Then, of course, she could play Alice B. Toklas in "Gertrude Stein: The Woman, The Myth, The Lesbian" opposite Judy Davis. And next year, a made-for-tv Lifetime special: "My Name Is Ellen DeGeneres and I'm A Lesbian: So What?" And if she decides to go back to men, she can always play the lead in "Anne Heche: A Nut's Story."

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Here's a very old picture of Cynthia Nixon from one of my favorite movies of all-time, "Little Darlings," co-starring KRISTY MACNICHOL!!!!Oooooh, it's all becoming so clear!

Thursday, September 23, 2004

Yippee! Yet another diva hissy fit! This time it was Elton John, HURRAH! He went berserk in Taiwan, screaming at the press and photographers who had the unmitigated GALL to cover the arrival of Her Royal Highness Dame Elton John. CNN reports, gleefully:

"British rock star Elton John, in Taipei for a concert, swore at reporters who swarmed around him at the airport on Thursday and called them "rude, vile pigs."

Wearing a bright blue tracksuit and dark sunglasses, the star shouted expletives as he was mobbed by photographers and TV crew.

"Rude, vile pigs!" he shouted at the reporters at the Chiang Kai Shek airport after he arrived shortly after midnight.

"Do you know what that means? Rude, vile pigs. That's what all of you are."

One of the photographers shouted back: "Why don't you get out of Taiwan?"

John replied: "We'd love to get out of Taiwan if it's full of people like you. Pig! Pig!"

The star, who recently performed in Shanghai and Hong Kong, is scheduled to leave after his first performance in Taiwan on Thursday."

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This is from CNN, too, and the caption read simply: "Pig! Pig!" Did they mean that as a quote or a description? Who cares? Je t'aime Elton! Je t'aime!

NOTE TO SELF: Must incorporate "rude, vile pigs" into daily discourse.
Well, thank GOD. James St. James and Michael "Party Monster" Alig had been fighting so much lately that they stopped doing the "Phone Call from a Felon" feature on the World of Wonder site. But now they have finally made up and there's a brand-new installment! Hurrah! In this episode, they talk about the romance of sneaking off to be with your prison boyfriend, and even more fascinatingly, how prisoners decorate their cells by wrapping everything in sheets and pillow cases. Here's a snippet:

James: And do people have little color schemes?

Michael: Oh absolutely! They are big on color schemes. They are like little queens running around when they are decorating. I swear to you. They like to get everything all the same color. The big thing is to trade towels and pillows and pillow cases and things like that so that everybody can get their color schemes together and the other day I heard two people arguing – two big, mean killers – I heard them say, “When I say fuchsia, I mean fuchsia!”

James: “I didn’t want ecru! I wanted eggshell!”

Go read the rest of it by scrolling down a little:

  • HERE!

  • Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Now there's some doubt that Britney and Kevin actually got married! This is really getting annoying. JUST DO IT AND SHUT UP! Here's what the IMDB says:

    "An American magazine is claiming Britney Spears' wedding to Kevin Federline was a hoax. The couple married in a brief ceremony at Studio City, California, on Saturday evening in front of just 25 guests including friends and family members. But the latest edition of Us Weekly features a four-page document signed by the couple, in which they confess they "intend to participate in a 'faux' wedding on September 18, 2004; however, they do not intend to and shall not validly marry one another on said date". Us Weekly claims the couple were unable to obtain a marriage license in time, after both parties wrangled over a prenuptial agreement - so they went ahead with the fake wedding. A spokesperson for Spears, however, insists the magazine report is false: 'This is all ludicrous. They are happily married, and I have no reason to believe otherwise.'"

    Why on earth would they have any reason to sign a document saying they are about to participate in a hoax? Are they so strung out on Cheetos and Red Bull that they've lost their minds? If this turns out to be true, I'm going to be PISSED. The sooner they get married, the sooner they can get divorced! She is only 22 years old, PLENTY of time to marry several more times. Terri R. and I want her to be the next Liz Taylor, with, like, a hundred marriages before she is 50. J. Lo's already ahead with three, but she's way older. Come on Britney, you can catch up! I've got imaginary money riding on this! Hit me one more time! And please, please, please marry someone twice! Even if it's Kevin! Just like you, I'M NOT PICKY ABOUT WHO YOU MARRY! But get ON with it! AAAAAAAH!

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    Here's a reminder of what Hubby Numero Uno looked like. Hee haw!
    NEWSFLASH! Peter Beard is not dead. I think I got that idea because he was mauled by a tiger or some other large, dangerous animal a la Ray Horn, but in the wilderness of Africa, not the Mirage Casino in Las Vegas. Anyway, I have been ever-so-gently accused in the past of mentioning people in this blog that few recognize or know anything about, so to remedy that I am posting a little description of Mr. Peter Beard from the website, which had this delightful history of this rather fascinating rich-as-sin artiste/playboy:

    "Peter Beard‘s life is of the stuff that Hollywood epics are made.

    His great-grandfather G. G. Hill founded the Great Northern Railroad Company in the 19th century and by the time of his death had ammassed a fortune of some 53 million dollars. The tobacco heir Pierre Lorillard, Peter Beard‘s grandfather, founded the Tuxedo Company and was the inventor of the formal eveningdress of the same name.

    Peter Beard was born in New York on January 22, 1938 and at first studied medicine, in compliance with his parents‘ wishes. His mother fancied bringing up a doctor, a governor, or a lawyer. But that was not to be: Peter Beard transferred to the art department at prestigious Yale University...

    He was inspired and fascinated by Karen (“Tanja”) Blixen‘s book, “Out of Africa”, which moved him to visit Africa for the first time in the mid-50‘s. Later he made Karen Blixen‘s acquaintance, became her neighbour and photograhed her for the last time three months before her death. In 1961 he settled on Hog Ranch near Nairobi, and it is here that he found the central theme of his life: the destruction of the last animal paradises at the hands of man and civilisation. In 1965 he published his first book, “The End of the Game”, a brutal, shocking documentary of the history of wildlife in Africa as exemplified, in particular, by the dying out of the elephants...

    So who is Peter Beard? A world-famous photographer, playboy, friend of the world‘s rich and beautiful, member of the New York jet set, a regular in the legendary Studio 54, a close friend of Francis Bacon‘s, Andy Warhol‘s, Truman Capote‘s, Mick Jagger‘s, Jackie Onassis‘... Peter Beard has many faces. On the outside he looks like a cross between an American movie star and an English gentleman; but he is not just an Africa adventurer and bon vivant, he is an artist and Cassandra with a camera who creates disturbing, troubling chronicles of the destruction of the earth‘s wildlife paradises. And he has been doing this for a long time."

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    Here's a picture of him in the glory days of Studio 54, with Cheryl Tiegs and members of Fleetwood Mac, naturellement.

    Pretty awesome stuff! His family invented the tuxedo! He's a Cassandra, friend of Jackie O., bon vivant, Studio 54 regular, adventurer! You don't meet a lot of people like that where I live, let me tell you. I'd settle for a just a Cassandra.
    Oooh, I just LOVE it when a celeb throws a fit on an airplane! This time it's crazy Lauren Hutton. The IMDB reports:

    "American actress Lauren Hutton reportedly flew into a rage on board an airplane on Sunday when she was confronted by an animal rights campaigner. The American Gigolo actress was on a Delta Airlines flight when she was challenged by a "polite" People For The Ethical Treatment Of Animals (PETA) activist over her role as spokesperson for estrogen replacement drug Premarin. But when Dan Matthews gently informed her of the suffering animals have to endure during the drug-making process, Hutton responded in a fury.

    Dan Mathews tells gossip website The Scoop, 'I very politely approached her and asked her if she knows that to make it, the drug company keeps pregnant horses dehydrated and confined to stalls their whole pregnancy and after their foals are born they are sold to slaughter. I hoped to open up a dialogue with her, but instead she started screaming at me. Something like, 'What do you know about animals? Have you ever been to Africa? Have you ever been in nature?' I was a little startled. Premarin isn't made in Africa.'"

    OK, first off, even though I agree with what PETA is trying to do, I sometimes go a bit eyeroll-y at their confrontational antics. It often serves to make them look like nuts and fanatics to the detriment of their noble cause. But on the other hand, Dan, if you say you were being polite (polite for PETA? or polite for normal people?) then what was this all about? Why the diva hissy fit? Well, Dan, I'll tell you. She was saying that because she used to jet off to Africa to do a little canoodling with hot, swingin' (and possibly dead, I have to check) photographer Peter Beard, she knows a whole lot more about the animal world than YOU do. And if you've ever read anything about Peter Beard and his antics, she's right! She probably experienced a whole LOTTA nature. Naked, naked nature. She may have even seen some actual Africans, albeit at a distance, carrying her luggage. So you don't have to tell Ms. Lauren Hutton about the torture of lab animals for products she hawks, OK? SHE HAS BEEN TO AFRICA! NOT TO MENTION NATURE!

    And let's be frank, Dan. What she was really trying to express to you was: HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO HER?! YOU'RE A NOBODY! A GNAT! A PEON! A LITTLE PERSON!! For God's sake, she was in "ONCE BITTEN"!!Also, Dan, she was in a terrible motorcycle accident a few years ago and may be a little strange now, like Bob Dylan after his crash, but you know, without all the talent and whatnot. So BACK OFF!

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    Wednesday, September 22, 2004

    Have to run off AGAIN, I'm afraid, but here's a couple of tidbits to tide you over. First up, Cat Stevens is about to be deported for being on a terror list! He was flying under his scintillating Islamic name Yusuf Islam and boarded a flight from London; when they realized "Oh, my God, the man who wrote "Peace Train" is on the plane!" they diverted the flight to Maine and took him off.
    The CNN headline:

    "U.S. diverts plane because Cat Stevens on board"

    The story:

    "Singer Yusuf Islam, formerly known as Cat Stevens, was taken off a diverted United Air Lines flight from London to Washington after his Muslim name turned up on a "watch list" designed to keep terrorists from boarding flights, a U.S. Transportation Security Administration spokesman has said.

    Islam, 56, took that name when he became a Muslim in the 1970s.

    An FBI spokeswoman told CNN the singer's name was only matched to the watch list after the plane had departed.

    Islam, a British citizen, was held in Bangor, Maine after Flight 919 was ordered to land there Tuesday.

    He will be deported back to London on Wednesday, according to the TSA.

    A government official said Islam was on the watch list because of "known associations and financial support to organizations believed to be aiding terrorism."

    According to U.S. officials, he is an active supporter of Muslim charities.

    One administration official said the singer had been in the United States as recently as May and was a recent addition to the list."

    I always thought Cat Stevens was hot, hot, HOT (it's an inherited trait from my mother, who would've walked on hot coals to meet him), and he's STILL pretty hunky in the picture!

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    In, like, a Muslim cleric kind of way. HOTT!

    On a sadder note, director Russ Meyer, who made some of the greatest movies of all time, including "Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!" and my personal favorite, "Beyond the Valley of the Dolls," has died at the age of 82.

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    Again with the CNN:

    "Meyer died Saturday at his home in the Hollywood Hills, according to his company, RM Films International Inc. Spokeswoman Janice Cowart said Meyer had suffered from dementia and died of complications of pneumonia.

    Meyer's films were considered pornographic in their time but are less shocking by today's standards, with their focus on violence and large-busted women but little graphic sex...

    Meyer was unapologetic for his movies, arguing the onscreen female nudity put customers in theater seats. But he maintained that women liked the films.

    "The girls kick the hell out of the guys. I've always played well at the Ivy League -- Cornell, Dartmouth. I have never encountered a berating woman," he said.

    Meyer's work made him rich and earned him critical acclaim. He was honored at international film festivals, his movies were discussed in college courses, and his work was shown at top museums.

    His 1966 classic, "Faster Pussycat, Kill! Kill!" about three hip go-go-girl club dancers who go on a vengeful murder spree against the men who did them wrong still makes the art house rounds.

    "This film is not derogatory to women," Meyer said. "There were three tough cookies to deal with. Besides, they get what's coming."

    Meyer married three times. His studio said he left no survivors."

    Oh, but his MOVIES were his survivors, THEY were his children! His beautiful, crazy children! You shall be missed, sir. You shall be missed.

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    Tuesday, September 21, 2004

    I'm outta town today, so no posts for the time being. Sorry, peeps! I looked around, and there wasn't any good non-news today anyway. Go to Gawker or for your gossip fix if you can't stand it!

    Monday, September 20, 2004

    RUN, do not walk, RIGHT NOW to Awful Plastic Surgery and check out the old Paris Hilton photos before she got blue contacts and a ton of surgery! It's amazing! Check it out:

  • HERE!
  • Hurrah! Just got Star, Us Weekly, and Entertainment Weekly in the mail! Hurrah!

    On the cover of the Star: "Who Got FAT! Who got THIN!" YIPPEE!! Anna Nicole Smith shares the cover with Kathleen Turner. I'll let you guess who is thin and who is fat. Anna Nicole is unrecognizable! I thought it was Britanny Murphy! She weighs 131 pounds and is 5'11"!!! The inside article about her speculates that she may be bulimic and notes that she has the habit of chewing beef jerky for her dogs and spitting it into their mouths. Let's just sit back and digest THAT image for a while, shall we? She also never exercises. Is THIS the diet for your Felt Up blogette? Perhaps, perhaps.

    Then in the Who Got Fat? section, we have boozehound blousy broad Kathleen Turner, whose "battles with alcholism may have played a part in her weight gain." Uh, duh. They say she weighs 212 pounds (where do they get these specific numbers? Telephoto lenses into her bathroom?). Other fatties: Alec Baldwin (has to lose weight fast to play HALSTON! I can't wait!), Quentin Tarantino, Tobey Maguire (he does NOT look fat, just healthy), Matt Le Blanc, and Barbra Streisand (who is naturally doing Ashram cleansing regimes to take the weight off, but hello? She is 62 years-old! Even though I hate her, they should cut her some slack. I mean, come ON.)

    OK. Who is too thin? Kate Bosworth, and boy, they are not kidding. She is skeletal and gross all of a sudden! She used to be pretty! And if living with Ben Stiller makes one turn into the Ghost of Christine Taylor, well then, thanks, but no thanks! She is a skin-n-bones FRIGHT! Daniel Day-Lewis hardly counts, because he's insane. Plus learning how to become a cobbler takes a lot out of a thespian, let me tell you. Brittany Murphy pulls the old "I'm just naturally thin" routine AGAIN (and if by "natural" you mean that cocaina is a naturally-occurring drug that is derived from plants and whatnot, then yes, I suppose you are naturally thin, Ms. Nutty Nutball). Terri Hatcher no longer has legs. They just disappeared and went wherever Tara Reid's legs went.

    But let's go back to Anna Nicole, shall we? Yes, let's:

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    Anna Nicole Smith and Brittany Murphy have fused into a new being, like The Fly! EEEEEK!

    Star also has a featurette on stars' kids that is disturbing in myriad ways. Lisa Bonet and Lenny Kravitz' beautiful 15 year-old daughter looks like a supermodel! I'm an ancient old crone! AAAAAH! Mia Farrow and Woody Allen's son looks EXACTLY like Mia Farrow in "Rosemary's Baby"! I thought it was their pretty DAUGHTER! EEEK! Viggo Mortenson and Exene Cervenka's son Henry is hideously unattractive!! Henry Winkler's soon-to-be-bald son Max is kind of cute!

    Then there's the article that got the genius treatment from some nameless, faceless sublimely-talented Star headline writer. "Jessica Simpson: The Hardest Working Boobs in Show Business--They're up, they're down, they're all around town!" It's basically an in-depth piece of investigative journalism into the shape, lift, direction, and form that Jessica Simpson's cleavage takes on from day to day. My favorite line: "When they're not reined in, they run fot the hills in opposite directions." !!!

    The rest of the magazine is devoted to the usual blah blah blah about Paris Hilton's new book, Ben and Jennifer Garner canoodling, P. Diddy's new clothing store, etc etc.

    Us Weekly cruelly devoted its cover to BEN IN LOVE. With Jen Garner. YAWN, YAWN AND DOUBLE YAWN! They are just too nice to be interesting. There's no build-up, no bling, no Bentleys!

    Then there's the Hot Young Hollywood Awards that Us just totally made up out of its ass. They give Paris Hilton the "Hottest Star" award--UGH! Way to turn me off, Us. THEN they do a How Rich Are They? featurette guaranteed to make my blood boil. I HATE knowing how much money Jessica Simpson has! Boo, hiss! Us Weekly, why do you torment me so? But then they piqued my interest a little with Joey Fatone Gets Married (To a Big Girl!) OK, it didn't actually say that, but it's true! I heart Joey Fatone!

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    See, girls with matronly arms CAN snag a star, even if it's just Joey Fatone!

    The cover of Entertainment Weekly is an old picture of the cast of the ORIGINAL STAR WARS! Including CHEWIE!!! YAY!!! I believe there's a new DVD coming out or something. AND there's an article about The Clash's "London Calling," featuring an interview with my future husband, Paul Simonon. AND there's a story on Lil Jon gettin' crunky in Miami! Oh, it goes on and on. In comparison with Us and Star, Entertainment Weekly is like the New Yorker or Harper's, with, like, actual articles with words and sentences and stuff, not just pictures with captions. Usually I'm against that, but this week, Us totally screwed me with the Ben-n-Jen cover, while EW made me hap-hap-happy! They know how to appeal to my age group, that's for sure. Star Wars and The Clash and LIL' JON! It's a close race, with EW neck-n-neck with Star and its fatties vs. anorexics cover. But I'm going to go with EW. Kudos, sirs, kudos!
    I haven't seen the new "Surreal Life," YET, but I had heard from obsessive viewers like Gil C. that besides former New Kid on the Blockhead Jordan Knight's angry has-been jerk routine (a la Vanilla Ice and Cory Feldman from the last two seasons), the real must-see tv was the tender sweet love blossoming between near-constantly drunk Brigitte Nielsen and everyone's favorite clock-wearing member of Public Enemy, Flava Flav. Well, I guess the bigwigs at VH1 realized they had televisual GOLD on their hands, so they are spinning off a whole show with Ms. Nielsen and Mr. Flav, according to Richard "Dick" Johnson:

    "Brigitte Nielsen seems torn between her "Surreal Life" castmate Flavor Flav and her new fiancé, 25-year-old Italian bartender Mattia Disse.

    The statuesque "Red Sonja" star, 41, enjoyed an on-camera fling with the wacky Public Enemy rapper during the VH1 series, but got engaged to Disse shortly after filming.

    Now, she's set to film another reality TV show for VH1 in which she'll criss-cross the country with Flav before arriving in Las Vegas, at which point, she says, both Flav and Disse will vie for her affections.

    "They're both gonna ask me to marry them, that's what I think," said Nielsen, who is in the midst of a divorce from her last husband, race car driver Raoul Mayer.

    "We're starting the next show on Oct. 4, Mr. F. and myself. We're just going to be hanging out. He's going to pick me up in Italy. We're going to his mom's. Then we're off to Los Angeles for two days and then we go to Vegas."

    And what does Nielsen's fiancé think of all this? "He's cool with it," she said, "but he's going to be watching us. I'm really in love with him, and I adore Flav. I don't know how to explain it. I'm a wild person!"

    That's for sure. Our spy recently spotted Nielsen and her new fiancé shopping at the Pink Pussycat sex shop in the West Village, where we're told Nielsen bought six vibrators and asked directions to the nearest S&M club."

    Aw, those crazy kids! Young turks in love! Will a cruel world, not to mention jealous 25 year-old fiance, come between these two lovebirds? Are they star-crossed lovers like Romeo and Juliet? Can their precious love survive? And most importantly of all: Will I have cable soon?

    Sunday, September 19, 2004


    Britney fooled the world by having her engagement party turn into her holy, sacred nuptials. Star Online is having such a conniption fit that they apparently threw something together without the benefit of an editor, so I will glady do it for them. It takes a village, people!

    "Britney Spears and Kevin Federline pulled a sly one on everyone by saying 'I do' at what was supposed to be an engagement party and not even Brit's own mother, Lynne, was in on the stunning surprise...

    It all happened Saturday night, Sept. 18, at 7:30 p.m., at the relatively modest Studio City, Ca. home owned by the tailor who had custom-made the tuxedoes for the groom and all the men in the wedding. The tailor happens to be the ex-husband of Britney and Kevin's wedding planner -- it was all very close-knit.

    Only 20 immediate family members [were in attendance]--including Britney's shocked mom and sister Jamie Lynn. Britney wore a strapless white dress by designer Monique L'Huillier, with long veil and tiara, and she carried a bouquet of pink and white roses. Kevin suited up in [a] black tux. Five bridesmaids and a maid of honor all wore burgundy and carried red roses.

    Guests dined on chicken fingers, crab cakes, ribs, [and] Waldorf salad, and the newlyweds danced to Journey's "City by the Bay." Britney gave Kevin a platinum ring with diamonds, and she got a platinum band.

    The actual ceremony lasted but five minutes. "He was crying, she was crying," a source tells Star. "It was beautiful."

    Wedding invitations had already gone out for the Spears-Federline October 16 wedding near Santa Barbara. That event is now being revamped as a party for all the newlyweds' friends."

    WHOA. I have but two words: Chicken fingers?
    Clive Owen is on the cover of the NY Times Style Magazine today! SWOON! SIGH! The only negative thing I can say is I HATE HIS WIFE! WHOEVER SHE IS! If you would like to read about my biggest crush (right up their with Javier Bardem and Peter Dinklage--yes, yes, dark, brooding types--I KNOW!), go:

  • HERE!

  • If you just want to get your ogle on RIGHT NOW without all that pesky reading, then here you go:

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    Don't say I never did anything for you. SWOON! SIGH!

    Friday, September 17, 2004

    Well, I'm back from the ACL festival and it was just as hellish as I thought it would be, but luckily Solomon Burke WAS AWESOME so it was all worth it, and now I'm back indoors where I belong, bathed and hydrated and with a towel turban on my head. Aaaaaaah. Thought I would just peruse the old internet, see what happened while I was communing with nature, pot-smokers, hippies, and frat boys; and what do I see? Another former child actor in some extremely unglamorous part of the USA, makin' trouble. It's an epidemic! CNN reports:

    "Actor Macaulay Culkin, who gained fame as a child in the smash hit "Home Alone," was arrested in Oklahoma City Friday for possession of marijuana and possession of a controlled substance without a prescription, police said.

    Culkin, 24, was pulled over around 4 p.m. when the alleged drugs were found, according to police. Further details were not immediately available.

    He was booked in the Oklahoma County Jail, and bond was set at $4,000...

    In an interview on CNN's "Larry King Live" in May, Culkin acknowledged he consumed alcohol and smoked marijuana over the years, but said, 'I never had a problem.'

    'Everything that I do for some reason becomes this big crazy thing, you know, even though any normal person does it. Like, yes I'm a kid, I had a beer, I smoked a joint. Big deal,' he said."

    Well, you know, I hate to point this out Mac, but you are kind of famous, and people do tend to make a bigger deal out of any stupid thing a famous person does, for good or ill. Look at those "Stars--they're just like us!" spreads in Us magazine--Renee Zellweger uses a cellphone! Lindsay Lohan drives a car! Val Kilmer eats! And eats! And eats! So, well, if if Edward Furlong gets into a K-hole and sets lobsters free in some hick town, or if you get arrested for drug posession in Oklahoma, it is considered rather a bigger deal than if say, I were to puke in the drive-thru line of Whataburger. See, I'm not a star, and you are. Even if you were forced by your stage dad into it, even if you wish you were a normal person, you are not. You are a celebrity. Try and buck up, little guy! Look on the bright side: You probably look really great in your mug shot!

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    Oh. Well, there's no such thing as bad publicity, right? Right?

    Gotta make this one fast, because I'm off to the Austin City Limits Festival, against my better judgment. Solomon Burke, you better knock my socks off! I can smell the Porta Potties from here. I will report from the ACL trenches later this weekend, if I'm still alive.

    ACHTUNG! The IMDB is reporting that Teutonic lifestyle illusionist Roy is now claiming that he was not mauled by his beloved Montecore, oh no no. He was SAVED by the white tiger after he suffered a stroke onstage:

    "Illusionist Roy Horn has spoken publicly for the first about the tiger attack that almost ended his life. The Siegfried & Roy star was mauled by tiger pet Montecore when he tumbled during a magic show at Las Vegas's Mirage hotel and casino last October - and he has spent the past 11 months making a miraculous discovery. On Wednesday night, in an appearance on American TV, the magician revealed his big cat friend was merely trying to take him to safety after he suffered a stroke due to high blood pressure onstage. Horn, 59, told Arnold Schwarzenegger's journalist wife Maria Shriver, 'It was a stroke. He's (Montecore) my baby. He saved my life.' The illusionist, who was joined by partner Siegfried Fischbacher for the NBC news special, revealed he's in so much pain he often cries himself to sleep, but he has no hard feelings towards the tiger, whose deep teeth incisions almost killed him instantly. He added, 'There's no bad feeling of any kind. They're (tigers) part of me, I'm part of them. That's how wonderful they are.' Horn refuses to release video footage of the night he was attacked - because he doesn't want to be in a position where he sees the incident again. He says, 'I thought, 'Dear God let this be just a bad nightmare.'"

    Hmmm. I'll tell you what a bad nightmare is, Roy: Going to The Mirage's souvenir store to pick up some choice Siegfried & Roy memorabilia and finding absolutely NOTHING worth buying! Yes, a few years ago my dear, sweet mother and I were in Vegas and after going to the Liberace souvenir store and loading up on Liberace playing cards and books of matches and t-shirts (without actually going to the Liberace Museum) we headed to the Mirage, where we didn't actually see the S & G show, we just went straight to the heart of darkness, the souvenir shop, where we were CRUELLY disappointed by the lack of tacky merchandise. Everything was the damn tigers! We wanted a shirtless Siegfried and/or Roy in some kind of giant Norse God painting, riding astride a white tiger, with blowing, flowing hair and lightning bolts bouncing off a shield or something good like that. Not the damn tigers by themselves! It was all jungley/save-the-animals Amazon-type stuff--just horrible, horrible NATURE. THAT'S a nightmare, Roy.

    OK, in other non-news, thespian Edward Furlong is in trouble again, but this time it's kind of cute. Richard "Dick" Johnson writes:

    "Some people get arrested for a cause — Edward Furlong just got busted for some claws.

    The "Terminator 2" actor was locked up Wednesday night in northern Kentucky for 'alcohol intoxication in a public place' after he tried to liberate a group of lobsters from a local grocery store's fish tank.

    Furlong, a longtime animal-rights supporter who once refused to wear leather in a Calvin Klein ad, pulled the crustacean caper with friends at Meijer grocery store in Florence, Ky., according to a police report.

    'The above and his friends were taking lobsters out of the tanks, when they were asked not to, they began to argue with management,' reads the report.

    When cops tried to frisk Furlong, 'He put his arms above his head and started spinning around,' an eyewitness tattled to PAGE SIX's Lisa Marsh...

    Furlong is certainly no stranger to trouble. After big roles in "Terminator 2" and "American History X," the hard-partying former boyfriend of Paris Hilton was derailed by his highly publicized problems with booze and drugs.

    But Furlong has always had a soft spot for animals. After filming a scene with two rats in John Waters' "Pecker," Furlong, fearing that the animals would be killed after the movie wrapped, called PETA and asked them to find the rodents a home. 'Animals aren't props to be discarded when the movie is over,' Furlong said at the time."

    You are absolutely right, Eddie. Rats should be treasured, nay, perhaps even pampered. Paris Hiltons, on the other hand, SHOULD BE DISCARDED IMMEDIATELY, RIGHT INTO THE DUMPSTER. Good work, sir. And is it just me or does it sound like our boy might have been in a wee K-hole in Kentucky? All that spinning around with his hands in the air and freeing the lobsters? Sure, it might have been just booze. Oh, who cares what it was? I just think the whole thing is adorable. Although I have to say that the only lobster I'm saving is going straight down my big fat piehole. Dribbling with butter.

    Thursday, September 16, 2004

    I don't usually do a lot of "royals" coverage because they are so overexposed AND boring--but then I sometimes mention Paris Hilton, so why not? This particular royal, Princess Michael of Kent, AKA "Priness Pushy," has gotten TONS of bad press the past few months because she apparently went up to a table-full of extremely rich/powerful black revellers at a restaurant and told them to shut up and "go back to the colonies." (!) So this woman is OBVIOUSLY a very classy dame and brings great honor to the aristocracy. Besides terrible and very public racism, she's also well-known for her snobbiness, pushiness, and bad manners. A quadruple threat! Now she is back in Page Six for more obnoxious behavior, as Richard "Dick" Johnson giddily reports:

    "Princess Michael of Kent continues to roil New Yorkers with her imperious ways — particularly the doormen at the Park Avenue building where she is freeloading.

    "We've watched her get out of cabs, clearly arguing with the driver and shrieking at the doorman, 'Pay the man!' before stomping off," one resident of the apartment tower snorted.

    "She doesn't give the doorman any money, so he eats her taxi charge."

    The Teutonic titleholder, known in London as Princess Pushy, made headlines earlier this year when she ordered a tableful of high-powered blacks at Da Silvano to quiet down.

    But she denies reports that she told them they should "go back to the colonies."

    She's been staying lately in a ground-floor apartment provided by a wealthy friend. But she isn't making any new friends in the building with her insistence on silence.

    "The apartment is just off the lobby," said a neighbor who requested anonymity. "Over a period of time she has come storming out of the apartment and screamed at little kids."

    The neighbor complained that children as young as 3 have been told, "Be quiet!" or "This is not a public place! Keep it down!"

    "It's crazy," the neighbor continued. "She's not a resident of the building! She doesn't pay rent! She's turning the building upside down like she thinks it's an extension of Kensington Palace! These people don't work for her!"

    The royal-by-marriage seems to be trying to rehabilitate her reputation as a snob. Tuesday, the princess was mingling with the little people at a promotional event for her friend Colin Cowie's new partnership with JCPenney.

    The home guru was hosting weddings in a 57th Street storefront, and Kent joined party girl Tara Reid as witness to one ceremony. The wedding was between a black South African model and a Jewish New York club-owner, who were more than a bit taken aback by her presence.

    She also sidled up to the president of the South African Tourist Board, an eyewitness said, in what appeared to be an attempt to prove that she is not a racist.

    Kent's publicist at Simon & Schuster declined to comment."

    Note the presence of TARA REID!! Talk about mingling with the little people! Ha ha ha! I LOVE that this woman tried to cozy up with a black person in order to prove she's not racist. Look! Look, everyone! Over here! Take a picture--QUICK! I'm talking to a South African! And it's not Charlize Theron! SEE? SEE? I'm practically like Ghandi or some other loathesome colonist! SEE? AND I'M IN THE PRESENCE OF TARA REID, SO HOW COULD I POSSIBLY BE A SNOB?

    Oh, Princess Pushy, I feel your pain, I really do. It's not easy living rent-free in a luxury apartment in NYC and having little spoiled hellions waking you up at the crack of noon when you've been up all night downing free champers and crudites with Jewish night-club owners and black models, trying to prove ONCE AND FOR ALL that you did not wish that everything would go back to Apartheid--in other words, to LIVE A LIE amongst peasants who don't know their place. IT'S NOT EASY!

    Wednesday, September 15, 2004

    OOOOOH, the plot thickens! I was just perusing and saw their link to something called Jim Hill Media, which had this delightful piece of on-set gossip about our favorite feuding tween queens!!Yes, the saga of Lindsay and Hillary continues! Hooray! Apparently, Disney is getting a little bit antsy over Tara Reid protege Lindsay and her ability to PAR-TAY HAR-DAY while shooting the sure-to-be-a-classic Herbie the Lovebug re-make:

    "Well, the word from folks familiar with this situation is that Lindsay has been hitting Vancouver's club scene awfully hard. Virtually every night, even. Which--given that Vancouver's legal drinking age is 19--means that the star of this family friendly comedy is engaging in illegal behavior.

    Which Disney might be willing to overlook. IF Lohan's after-hour activities weren't having an obvious negative impact on Lindsay's performance in the picture. Which they allegedly are.

    Which is why studio execs supposedly read the "Freaky Friday" remake star the riot act earlier this month. Reportedly warning Lohan that if she didn't cut back on her partying Disney would be forced to recast this role and then send Lindsay packing.

    So the story goes...Lohan allegedly heeded the Disney Studio's executives' advice for just a couple of days, then reportedly reverted to her old hard-partying ways. Which is why--late last week--the film's director, Angela Robinson supposedly pulled Lindsay aside for a quiet chat.

    'Have you noticed that we haven't been doing a lot of close-ups lately?,' Robinson reportedly asked Lohan. Lindsay allegedly indicated that--yes--she noticed that 'Herbie Fully Loaded''s director had been concentrating on long shots lately and was wondering why Angela was doing this.

    Robinson supposedly then told Lohan that she was doing this on orders from Disney. That-- should the studio be forced to replace Lindsay--they then might still be able to use some of the film's footage that had been shot from a distance.

    Then Angela allegedly dropped the real bomb shells. That--back in Burbank--Mouse Execs are reportedly already casting about for a replacement for Lohan. 'And who's on that short list?,' you ask. The very same tween star that Disney had hoped to snag for 'The Muppets Wizard of Oz,' Hilary Duff."

    OMG! Don't you know Lindsay went totally berserk, just like Neely in "Valley of the Dolls," screaming about being a STAR and demanding to know where her booze and dolls were? Not to mention threatening to have Hillary Duff killed. WOW. All this drama over a Herbie the Lovebug movie. AND they had the foresight to call it "Fully Loaded." That's totally Lindsay's nickname at all the Vancouver hotspots!

    Sorry the non-news is coming in slowly today, but I had actual work to do. You know, at my job. Anyhoo, here's some prime tidbits from Richard "Dick" Johnson. First up, Anna Wintour is afraid some of the hoi polloi who SURROUND her whenever she ventures out amongst the little people might become impertinent, by, like, talking to her or something equally hideous, so she has taken steps to keep them at bay:

    "Is Vogue editrix Anna Wintour super-paranoid these days? Insiders say she has three burly ex-Navy SEALs bodyguarding her during Fashion Week, and some speculate it's to protect against animal-rights zealots People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals and other groups that have targeted the fur-loving fashionista in the past. 'Anna has anointed herself as a common pimp for one of the most violent industries on the planet,' huffs PETA's Dan Mathews. 'It's no wonder she keeps looking over her shoulder. Even people at her own magazine are upset about it.' Wintour's rep insists she's always had security at the shows and says it's not because of PETA, but rather to curb the 'overwhelming' amount of attention she gets from autograph-seekers and photographers."

    Yes, I'm sure Anna Wintour is OVERWHELMED by grasping, autograph-seeking peasants, but I have another theory after viewing this picture:

    (picture has been taken down)

    I think she needs Navy SEALS to help keep her ginormous head from lolling off her skeletal "body."

    In the happy world of sacred, holy matrimoy, we have this item, about everyone's favorite May/December quickie Vegas newlyweds Nicky Hilton and Todd Meister:

    "Nicky Hilton and new hubby, Todd Meister, keep clashing with customers at their favorite hangout, Bungalow 8. On Saturday night, Todd got into a 'nose-to-nose' argument with a guy named Will, who was chatting up Nicky at the bar. Making matters even more awkward, Nicky refused to leave with Todd, telling him, 'Just go home!' and instead left with her pal Will. Todd, meanwhile, boozed it up solo for another half hour before stumbling out the door, claims our spywitness. Last Wednesday night, a peeved partygoer threw a vodka cocktail on Nicky and Todd at the hotspot for no apparent reason."

    HA HA HA! I LOVE that this ultra-exclusive enclave (gag!) is teeming with Page Six spies. AND that the match made in heaven is already on the rocks. AND that someone threw a drink on Nicky for "no apparent reason," which, if by "no apparent reason" you mean "because Nicky Hilton is a brainless twit who is famous only for being rich and designing horrible handbags," then, yes, I guess that's true.

    And, finally, a little teensy tiny bit of bitter bile from tween sensation and all-around annoying goodie-goodie Hillary Duff:

    "Teen star Hilary Duff has finally opened up about her hate-fest with wild child Lindsay Lohan. 'The thing is, it's all so childish and immature,' Duff dishes in Blender magazine. 'This all started because we both dated Aaron Carter, and she went around telling everybody that I was a horrible person who had stolen her boyfriend. She then got pissed off because I worked with Chad Michael Murray [on 'Cinderella'] after she had worked with him on 'Freaky Friday.' She called him up and said all these awful things about me, which she then repeated to the press. I don't think I can take it anymore. It's so hurtful. Sometimes I feel like I really hate her, which is pretty extreme for me, because I don't hate anybody . . . She's always trying to spread stories about me, but the funny thing is, I know so many stories about her that I could tell you right now, but I'm not going to, because I don't think people should know. I don't want her to get mad at me for telling them. And you know what the funny thing is in all this? I just want us to be friends — that's all.' Riiiiight."

    Oh, for god's sake, Duff Girl, don't be such a tease! Tell us EXACTLY what you know about the far-more-interesting skank-in-training Lindsay Lohan! No one cares about you. And stop being such a ninny. Oh, boo hoo, Lindsay's mean, and you can't take it anymore? Hillary, where is your spine? Do you even have one? You make me sick!

    Tuesday, September 14, 2004

    Is the whole world conspiring to drive me mad? Why is the media so OBSESSED with celeb-u-babies? Who cares if Julia Roberts has twins? And for the love of all things holy, WHY IS GWYNETH "FLAPJACKS" PALTROW ON THE COVER OF ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY WITH THE HEADLINE "GWYNETH: MOM OR MOVIES?"? Her smug face makes me want to run screaming from the room! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
    I could give a FIG if she and Apple Jacks ride off into the sunset together with the incredibly stork-like Chris Martin of Coldplay or not! And if she wants to bow out gracefully to devote herself full-time to the joys of motherhood without the intrusive eye of the media upon her sacred family unit, then why in hell is she doing the COVER of Entertainment Weekly? I want answers, dammit! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

    Oy vey! Every muscle in my old lady's body is screaming "WHY?" Why did you enter, and WIN, a dance contest with a bunch of twenty-somethings, you FOOL? Even my neck hurts, which was a mystery to me until Tanya B. pointed out that I probably had "Bitch Slap whiplash," and then it all became too, TOO clear. Oh well, it was WORTH IT, dammit!

    The non-news is pretty scant, I'm afraid. All I've got is this rather bitchy (hooray!) expose of Paris Hilton's rude behavior at a fashion show from the NY Daily News:

    "Paris Hilton seems to want all the attention of being a model - without all the 'work.'

    The heiress and sometime catwalker, who was hitting the runway all over New York for Fashion Week, popped up backstage at the Lacoste fashion show. The show's hairstylists and makeup artists promptly performed their magic, prepping the beauty for the show - until they found out she wasn't in it.

    She was just hanging out backstage with sister Nicky and Bijou Phillips - who both got impromptu makeovers, too. When Paris got her hair and face done exactly as she liked, she went out and sat in the front row for the show - and proceeded to chat with Bijou and ignore the fashion in front of her.

    'Can you believe them?' one onlooker was overheard saying. 'They're sitting in the front row and they're not even paying attention.'

    Lacoste confirmed the touchups.

    'Well, it was raining outside,' a rep for the preppy brand said. But stylists didn't find it so funny and got revenge, sniping: 'Those are all hair extensions.'

    Another fashionista observed, 'It's like the hair of five people all on one head.'

    Watch out, Paris, those brilliant styling fingers have claws."

    I'll say! Meow! I wonder WHICH five people on Earth sold their hair so that Paris might have ultra-long extensions? It would be interesting to track them down and find out what THEIR lives are like, huh? Kind of like that movie "20 Bucks," which traced all the stories of people who handled a single twenty dollar bill, we could follow the hairpieces on Paris' head back to their original owners and see what kind of existence they have. Do you think THEY get free make-up "touch-ups" from LaCoste? Think they hang out a lot with Bijou Phillips? OH, GOD, HOW I HATE PARIS HILTON! THE TRIUMPH OF MONEY AND MEDIOCRITY OVER TALENT AND BEAUTY NEVER FAILS TO MAKE MY BLOOD BOIL! If my arm muscles weren't so sore and stiff I would shake my fist at her!

    Monday, September 13, 2004

    Since the Britney/Shar "dance-off" was a non-event (see last post), I thought I might as well tell the tale, nay the LEGEND, about an ACTUAL dance-off that occurred last night in our own fair city. I don't usually like to put much of my own, non-celeb life into this blog; but Terri R. wants the world to know of our adventures in The Danse, and it IS my blog, so what the hell?

    It was the annual Virgo Birthday Party at the Carousel Lounge on Sunday, and, as usual, it was a hoot and a half--Too Short covers by DFI, the Better Beat Bureau keeping the booties on the dancefloor, and the incomparable Rulerz (the only cover band that matters) keeping it real. Real fun, that is.

    But the highlight of the evening was the Dirty Dancing Contest. First up were the ladies, including yours truly, but I was trounced by Ms. Rebecca W., who aced us all with her unbelievable moves. I wish I could describe them, but words fail me. She is my hero, that's all I will say. I am usually a terrible loser, but I was PROUD to be beaten by a talent such as hers. She has a bright future ahead of her, that girl. She is a rising dance SENSATION.

    Then it was the boys' turn, who crammed the tiny Carousel floor with more homo-eroticism than the director's cut of "Velvet Goldmine." The guys got to dance to such gems as Prince's "Delirious" and the Clash's "Rock the Casbah." The winner was a genius. He could do it all: the Worm, the Robot, the Dirty Chicken, the Spazz. He was totally and completely awesome. Sadly, I can't remember his name. I was too focused on the upcoming contest to pay much attention.

    The last competition was for couples. Boy/girl, boy/boy, girl/girl were all accepted. So Terri R. and I picked up our tired-from-the-first-round selves and hit the dance floor. I told Terri that we should be sure and not waste any energy on the first two songs, one of which was "You Make My Dreams Come True," by Hall and Oates. As I had learned from bitter experience, the Virgo judges did not actually start tapping people out (a la "Grease") until the THIRD song, so it was important to conserve our best moves for the finale. We spent the first two songs coming up with some bits of business, including Terri's patented Bitch Slap and the good ole tried-and-true Butt Dance.

    THE THIRD SONG STARTED. IT WAS TIME TO SHINE. We shimmied. We shaked. We hustled. We Bitch Slapped with everthing we had. When in doubt, we went LEWD--my face in Terri's decolletage, Terri slapping my ass, both of us getting as dirty as we wanted to be. Lots of down-to-the-ground-and-up-again. Shake it, SHAKE IT! Finally, we looked around and it was just us and two other chicks.

    It was a dance-off.

    The song was The Cure's "Close To Me." A good omen. We went for it--SHIMMY SHIMMY, UP DOWN UP DOWN, HUBBA HUBBA, BOOM BOOM, BITCH SLAP BITCH SLAP. I had no idea what the other two girls were doing, and I didn't care. Everything was a blur. Terri's black hair a twirl, cleavage heaving, ass aflame. The world was spinning out of control--who am I? I thought, Why am I here? I'm so very very cold--and then, suddenly, I felt it. THE MOMENT OF TRUTH. We were at an impasse. Things were going downhill. Fatigue, old age, and smoke inhalation had all conspired against us at that moment. We had nothing to lose.

    So I said, "Terri, I'm going to do it." She gave a slight nod and we got into position.

    I had already talked over the possibility of pulling out The Super Secret Move with Terri before we had even gotten to the club, but I thought it was out of the question. My Super Secret Move is best done with a "skort": a half skirt/half shorts combo that allows for freedom of movement without tragic, and possibly illegal, indecency. But right before we were supposed to leave, I found my one and only skort crumpled on the bottom of my closet, covered in Corgi hair, unwearable. So I put on a mid-length black dress and put away my dreams of dance glory.

    But now, after all the cleavage-in-face/butt-to-butt action that had gone on, and the obviously bleak situation facing us, I decided to go for it. All I had to lose? My diginity. And my dignity comes pretty cheap these days, let me tell you. So I pulled up my dress on either side, thought of Enlgand, and did The Super Secret Move, AKA The Barroom Splits--yes, uh huh, that's right, I said SPLITS--in the middle of the Carousel dance floor.

    (The Barroom Splits is a variation on the Chinese Splits, see earlier post for full explanation. Suffice it so say that underpants were touching the highly unhygenic floor. I am developing a public splits habit that is either disturbing or exhilerating or both, I'm not sure which. But I digress.)

    Everything after that was a blur. A noisy, sweaty blur. I heard applause, saw what I can only hope was a standing seemed as if the other competitors, having been SERVED, simply backed away, into oblivion. I wanted to collapse like a marathon runner at the finish line, but the goddamn song just wouldn't end. I somehow jacknifed one of my legs in front of me and hopped up, hopefully without revealing some of my womanly secrets to a roomful of screaming people. Terri and I had to dance, dance, dance for what seemed like AN ETERNITY; our shimmies and shakes got more and more lackluster as exhaustion set in. "They shoot horses, don't they? DON'T they?" I kept asking, over and over.

    FINALLY the song ended and we could sit down, sweat pouring off us, the glory of it all finally dawning on us, champions at last. We were older than many of the dancers, yes; a tad out of shape, too true; but when it came to the crunch we had the will, dammit! The drive to succeed! We danced our ASSES off and victory, when it came at last, was sweet. So very, very sweet. Kudos to Terri and me! KUDOS!
    The biggest news today is, of course, the Britney Spears/Shar Jackson dance-off that happened recently in L.A. The new Star magazine is the only source for this piece of hard-hitting investigative journalism, but that's never stopped me before!

    Star reports that "the rivalry between Britney Spears and Shar Jackson--the ex-girlfriend of Brit's fiance Kevin Federline--came to a boiling point Aug. 30 at Joseph's nightclub when the dueling divas finished the evening with an exhaustive dance-off."


    Star goes on, breathlessly: "It's Brit's second dance-off: The first was in August 2002 with ex-boyfriend Justin Timberlake after she spotted him with then-girlfriend Jenna Dewan."

    God, is there anything better than a serial dance-offer? OK, back to our story:

    "An eyewitness tells Star that Shar, 28, became furious after she saw Britney, 22, and Kevin, 26, enter Joseph's shortly after midnight. 'She stormed over to Britney and Kevin's table and started yelling at Britney,' says the onlooker. Another source says, 'Kevin told Shar they should work things out so that they didn't run into each other. She told Kevin, 'I'm not going to rearrange my life just to keep your girlfriend happy!'

    Then Brit and Kevin hit the dance floor, which an eyewitness says seemed to further infuriate Shar."

    Whoa! Britney's about to get SERVED, yo!

    " 'When Britney and Kevin started dancing real looked like Shar wanted to make Kevin jealous: She went on the dance floor, only four feet away from Britney, and started grabbing guys at random, dancing to hip-hop and grinding against each guy.' After 20 minutes...Shar 'gave up and left the dance floor since it seemed to be having no effect.'"

    Oh...huh? Wait. You mean the "dance-off" was just poor, jilted Shar dancing somewhere in Britney's vicinity? I'm sorry, Star, but I feel a tad misled. I thought this was a DANCE-OFF! I define a "dance-off" as Shar Jackson going out on the floor, doing a head-spin, then the Cabbage Patch, and screaming, "Top that, bitch!" and then Britney doing the head-spin, the Cabbage Patch, and adding a violently over-the-top Running Man, then shrieking, "UH-HUH, Who's the bitch, now, BITCH?" and so on and so forth until the two end up in a hair-pulling catfight with bodyguards rushing in to pull them apart. Anything less is just two people dancing next to each other. Why do you tease me, Star, and not please me?

    Also the cover is a gag-tacular devoted to Julia Roberts and her spawn: "Will She Quit Her Career?" (The answer: NO.) I'm so sick of babies!!!AAAAAAAH!

    But just when I'm ready to throw Star across the room in a diva fit, my little eye spies a featurette to warm even the coldest gossipeer's heart: "PUT YOUR SHOES ON, BRIT! There's a Danger To Your Feet LURKING ON THE STREET!" Yes, Star got podiatrists to examine photos of Britney's blackened-with-nightclub-and-gas-station-bathroom-grime soles to point out various fungi that may have infected America's Sweetheart's tootsies. To wit: "Going barefoot in a club could cause toenail and foot fungi." Also, "Plantar warts are a risk for barefoot strollers." And: "Concrete surfaces may create small cuts serving as entry points for infections." Not to mention: "One could catch a fungus going barefoot in a public bathroom. It's disgusting in there! I don't recommend anybody to do that ever. Imagine the stuff on the floor in there--urine and every bacteria you could think of. Fungus, mold, yeast--you could get any of those!" So says Dr. Herbert Chien. (Can you really catch anything from urine? I thought that was pretty sterile. But, then, I'm not a New York pediatrist/consultant to Star, am I? What do I know?) Anyway, the whole thing is a hoot and a half. Star, you won me back, AGAIN!

    In other non-news, Richard "Dick" Johnson gleefully reports that everybody's favorite employer Naomi Campbell caused quite a ruckus during Fashion Week, naturellement:


    "Naomi Campbell lived up to her diva reputation backstage in the Bryant Park tents last week. At the Esteban Cortazar show, she refused to get changed with the other models and insisted that a hair and makeup room be converted into her personal dressing room. Then she refused to walk in one of the designer's creations because she didn't like the way it looked on her. 'Esteban ran over to her and begged her to come out, but she wouldn't do it,' tattles our mole. Later on, Campbell erupted at her makeup artist — who, along with her hairdresser, publicist, personal assistant and camera crew, followed her to all the shows — because she didn't like her makeup job. 'She almost didn't walk, but finally they convinced her to do it,' says our spy. The next day, before strutting in the Rosa Cha swimsuit show, Campbell berated a producer who had told Campbell's entourage to stay out of the way of the other models, snapping, 'I can make sure you'll never work at another fashion show again!' But even our eyewitness had to admit, 'Naomi really looks great. She was probably the only model at Rosa Cha over 21, and she looked every bit as good as them. It's too bad she's so ugly on the inside.'"

    Ahh, yes, beautiful on the outside, hideous and deformed on the inside. It's almost a pre-requisite for clawing your way to the top of the supermodel scrapheap. How can you NOT adore someone who not only beats up underlings with a cellphone--TWICE!!--but also actually uses my second-favorite celeb line of all-time (after "Don't you know who I AM?"): "You'll never work in this town again!"? Ha ha ha! Kudos, crazy lady, kudos!

    In case you were wondering, Us Weekly's cover is all about Ashley Olsen and her "older man," which is SO last week's news. Harrumph. But they do talk about the reported tete-a-tete between Josh Hartnett and Kirsten Dunst, which has been mentioned in other trash-a-zines as well, but no one seems to know exactly what is going on. Some say the two, who co-starred in "The Virgin Suicides," are "just friends" (yawn!) and that Kirsten is still secretly seeing Jake Gyllenhaal; some say that they are "canoodling" (I'm getting more interested); and a jubilant Us just flat out says they had a makeout party (yay!) right on the cover. All anyone knows for sure is that they were at a club together in LA. Once. Stay tuned for details as they emerge.

    Saturday, September 11, 2004

    Since it is September 11 and all, there's a lot of somber, real news today and not a whole lot of divertissement from fluffy, shallow, non-news. Which is a shame, because I have always maintained that when the peoples get down, they need light-n-frothy nonsense to take their minds off their troubles, such as THIS bit from Richard "Dick" Johnson:

    "Producer Danny Bigel expects people to keep their word. Last month, Bigel, who produced 'Black and White' and 'Harvard Man,' was staying at Theory owner Andrew Rosen's Southhampton pad, along with alice+olivia designer (and Rosen business partner) Stacey Bendet.

    On that Saturday morning, the beautiful Bendet found out her grandmother had died and woke up Bigel, asking him for a ride to the Jitney stop so she could catch a flight for the funeral in Florida. Bigel refused. 'Danny said he was tired and to go away,' Bendet said. 'He said he would only take me if I gave him two sweaters from my new men's line, anthony+mo. So I said fine, whatever.'

    Bigel drove Bendet to the Jitney, but then proceeded to hound her for the sweaters. 'I was busy, I just didn't get around to it,' Bendet said.

    The other day, Bigel took matters into his own hands. Bendet was in the East Hampton Theory store about to sell a $600 cashmere reversible pullover when Bigel walked up, grabbed the sweater and said, 'I'm taking this! This is mine! You promised me a sweater!'

    When Bendet objected, Bigel snarled, 'I'm teaching you a lesson! When you promise friends sweaters, you give them!' Bendet notes, 'Danny didn't seem to get that friends don't make friends beg to give them a ride to the Jitney when their grandmothers die.' An unapologetic Bigel told PAGE SIX Bendet could invoice him for the sweater."

    OK, I don't know who ANY of these people are, but I heart them. First let me point out that the Jitney is some kind of bus that takes people to and from Manhattan and the Hamptons, as I learned from an episode of "Sex and the City." So basically this Bigel guy, who was staying as a guest in Bendet's business partner's house, wanted a $600 cashmere reversible pullover in exchange for a ride to the bus stop. So the woman could go to her grandmother's funeral. Hee hee hee!

    I wonder where the owner of the house was? Couldn't he give her a no-strings-attached funeral drop-off? Oh, it doesn't matter. What DOES matter is that "When friends promise friends sweaters, you give them!" may be my new slogan. I might have to sew it on a sampler, like "Home Sweet Home." And for sure I will snarl it when drunk, apropos of nothing; this is my solemn pledge. Whoever these delightful people are, they have inspired me! Kudos! I heart NY!
    I don't normally publish letters or e-mail that I receive here at Felt Up HQ, but I got one today that touched me deeply with the passionate, heartfelt plea of its tortured author. This was a person, a HUMAN BEING, in pain. How could I turn a callous eye? So I decided to listen to a higher calling, and provide a sympathetic, non-judgmental forum for this anguished soul...

    Dear Felt Up:

    I am really starting to hate Gwyneth Paltrow.

    Yesterday I read that she is going to sue photographers for taking
    pictures of "Apple" (and don't even get me started on how she STOLE
    that name and it is not original), then today I read in the Dallas
    Morning News all about how Gwynnie is telling everyone how her
    Coldplay husband sings lullabies to get the baby to go to sleep!
    Then she goes on about how great it is to find the right guy and have
    his baby. If she doesn't want people taking pictures of her baby,
    maybe she should quit talking about her to the press! Aaargh!!!!!

    I could go on about the cupping, but I won't.


    Dear GIAN:

    I feel your pain, GIAN, I really do. First of all, just know that you are not alone. There are others out there, millions even, who have had to deal with similar feelings of outrage and annoyance. Perhaps if I tell you about my own long, difficult experience with Paltrowism, you might be able to take that first, and most important, step to recovery.

    It is hard to express my constant, never-ceasing feelings of resentment and loathing towards Gwyneth "Flapjacks" Paltrow, but I'm going to try. Everything about her is like nails on a chalkboard to me: Her flat, nasal, prep school voice; her flat, droopy flapjack boobs; her flat hair; her flat personality; her flat acting style; her ballet flats. (I like them on everyone else but her.) I despise her mother, Blythe Danner. Her late father I only liked because he created my favorite tv show of all time, "The White Shadow." But then he pretty much cancelled that out with "St. Elsewhere." I hate her name. I hate that she totally got famous for being Brad Pitt's girlfriend. I hate that she dated my future husband, Luke Wilson. I hate that she got to be in a Wes Anderson movie WITH Luke Wilson. I hate that she won an Academy Award for like, her second movie ever, simply because she was the "hot" new thing in Hollywood. I hated her Oscar dresses (all of them). I hate that she got to act with John Hannah, one of my favorite Scottish actors, in "Sliding Doors." I hate that her short hair looked cute in "Sliding Doors." I hate her macrobiotic diet. I HATE HATE HATE the cupping thing. I hate that she played Sylvia Plath. I hate her husband's band. (Actually they are so bland they have barely registered on my consciousness, but Terri R. always calls them "the poor man's Radiohead" and she knows of what she speaks. Or was it the "poor man's Grandaddy?" I honestly cannot remember. But I digress.) I hate that when she got pregnant I had to endure endless, nauseating articles in my beloved Star and Us Weekly about underwater birthing techniques and Swedish baby carriers and shower gifts and Madonna's advice on English hospitals and Gwyneth's 7,000 hours of labor. I hate that she named the baby Apple--and as you so rightly point out, GIAN--I hate even more that the name did not come from a rare burst of originality but was copied from another member of the Paltrow/Coldplay axis of evil: COLDPLAY'S MANAGER'S BABY IS NAMED APPLE! (Or somebody like that. Whatever.) SHE STOLE THE TERRIBLE NAME APPLE! And, perhaps most of all, I hate that she constantly complains about the press being overly intrusive in her non-working life.

    (Listen, GIAN, I'm switching gears here and speaking directly to Ms. Paltrow now, OK?) Gwynnie, you and Billy Crudup (see last post) should go to the same class, it's called Fame 101. Lesson #1: When trying to avoid undue public fascination with your personal life, DON'T DATE OR MARRY ANOTHER CELEBRITY! Hello? You are doubling the amount of media hysteria, right off the bat! Lesson #2: After you bear the other celebrity's child, try NOT naming it something as idiosynchratic--or idiotic--as APPLE! Oh, can't help yourself? Well, congratulations. You just tripled the interest in your family unit. Lesson #3: How about NOT living in the middle of London, a very large metropolis with five hundred gazillion voracious, vicious, and highly amusing daily tabloids waiting like a pack of wolves at your front door! Take your precious bundle of joy and your milquetoast hubbie and go out to the sticks! OF COURSE the paparazzi are going to be camped outside your house now--they live there, too! You might as well have given birth in the Daily Mirror's office!

    Oh, and one last bit of advice: SHUT UP.

    PS: I think Apple wants her flapjacks. (Shudder.)

    Note to self: The baby's name is now officially Apple Jacks. HA ha ha! I just cracked myself up! I really did.

    OK, back to my soul-searching letter-writer. I hope, GIAN, that airing out some of your frustrations has helped bring a sense of closure to your agonizing hatred of Gwyneth Paltrow. I admire your candor and honesty. It certainly has been cathartic for moi. Maybe I will actively seek out correspondence from now on because it allows me to have a more personal, one-on-one relationship with my publique. But for god's sake, only send me fan mail! Jailhouse penpals welcome!