Wednesday, August 31, 2005

The Scent of A Woman...IS TERRIFYING!

God, how I love it when stars get their crazy on.

And nobody gets it on with more zest than Mr. Al Pacino, who, according to Radar Intelligence, has a tendency to, shall we say, overact whether he's working or not:
Al Pacino may have played a smooth-talking ladies man in Scent of a Woman, but in reality the erratic lifelong bachelor is more apt to send his female admirers fleeing in tears, we hear.

According to a West Coast spy, Pacino displayed his less-than-suave side last Friday when a comely redhead in a green dress sashayed up to the table where he and five friends were dining at Hollywood haunt Il Sole and asked to speak to the 65-year-old actor—alone.

We’re told the toothsome twenty-something was merely looking to give the Godfather star her phone number out of earshot of his dinner companions, but Pacino evidently divined something sinister in her approach. “I don’t speak to anyone privately! What do you want?” he thundered back at the stunned seductress, causing her to run out of the restaurant, weeping. Not yet satisfied with his fan’s humiliation, Pacino then barked at the hostess to call the police, claiming that the young woman had approached him “to propose marriage,” our source says.

“Al was extremely paranoid,” says our witness. “You’d think he’d been approached by a terrorist rather than a pretty girl. She didn’t say anything about marriage, she simply said ‘Hello’ and asked if she could speak to him away from his friends.”

Well, I for one think ole Al did the right thing. You just never know when a so-called innocent date can lead to a long, protracted full-out war, a la his trials and tribulations with baby mama Beverly D'Angelo.

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Ladies, I beg you: Make sure you stay at least two feet away from the Al at all times! The scenery he chews just might be....your head!

I've Been Taralyzed!

A few tidbits are popping up here-n-there, such as Pete Doherty headbutting the lead singer of Razorlight backstage at a music festival in England, and yet more news of the further disintegration of Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey's marriage of convenience.

But all of that is far too taxing for me to contemplate, as my mind has been officially blown by last night's back-to-back airing of "Taradise," The Show Formerly Known As "Wild On Tara," on E!

Where to begin? Can't...think...straight...Too many vicarious Jaeger shots...argh! Damn you Tara Reid! Damn you straight to hell! I can't concentrate on anything! My cognitive level has been reduced to the level of, well, you. I only seem to remember that a great many things you encountered on your jaunts were "totally awesome," "amazing," and "so cool." Like, "so, so cool." AAAAAAAAAAAH!

OK, I have to get a hold of myself. I seem to recall that on the first episode, Tara goes wild on Monte Carlo, and though the location is quite beautiful, somehow Tara makes it all seem cheap and unseemly. Maybe it's the unholy combination of her bleachy straw hair, black-rimmed rheumy eyes, and complete lack of hand-eye coordination while lurching around that does it. Hard to say.

Is this woman ever sober? Even when she is learning how to drive a stick shift for the first time on a Formula One racing car, she is clearly either drunk and/or hopped up on goofballs. It seemed like a clear insurance liability to me, but the race car driver she keeps holding onto to keep from falling over didn't seem too concerned. She stumbles and slurs her way through lunch, dinner, suntanning, a diamond-and-gold-dust massage, and a conversation with a model who just arrived from London after the bombings, which prompts Tara's eloquent speech against "mean people" who should just get their own country so they can "blow each other up." Well-said, milady! Well-said indeed. Why are you wasting your talents on a travel show? You should totally become a U.N. Goodwill Ambassador to Cabo San Lucas, and pronto!

The next show featured Tara stumbling and slurring her way around Pamplona, Spain during the running of the bulls. She goes to buy the traditional white outfit with red sash from a street stall, and somehow manages to totally Tara-rize the ensemble (ie, make it billowy, slutty, and so boob-revealing that she admits she will have to get "double-stick tape" to avoid a wink-wink, nudge-nudge repeat of her infamous red carpet full-frontal dress slippage). She loves historic Pamplona because it is "one non-stop party," and reveals her astonishment that the hicks in Spain actually have a nightlife with clubs and dancing and such. Oh, Tara. All of this is spoken in her patented 100-Year-Old Smoker voice, which makes Harvey Fierstein sound like Shirley Temple.

All the while she is slurring and stumbling, you can't help but notice her incredibly deformed stomach, which has been much discussed on the Internets of late. It seems to have been over-liposuctioned to the point of turning the underlying muscle into a Play-Doh-like substance. It is quite distracting when she is wearing a bikini, especially in comparison with the normal (albeit unusually flat) stomachs she tends to hang out with at, say, a private club in Monaco.

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(via Awful Plastic Surgery)

Tara is so drunk on this show that there seemed to be actual alcohol fumes coming out of the tv set. I think I'm hungover! I need to drink a cup of black coffee, put a damp cloth on my forehead, and take some aspirins now. Maybe some Gatorade and saltine crackers...mmmm, crackers.

Thanks a lot, Tara Reid!

Tuesday, August 30, 2005

Love Shack, Baby!

This is just a tiny (yet wonderful) bit of fluff, but according to my Gossiplist newsletter, people on the Internets are calling Angelina Jolie "The Wombraider." As my beloved Brini Maxwell would say, why didn't you think of that?

In other non-news, I must shamefully admit that I have never seen the E! Channel's "Kill Reality" show, which apparently features a bunch of ex-reality tv personalities living in a house together filming a horror movie, but after this report in Radar Magazine's Fresh Intelligence column, I might just have to watch (on someone else's cable):
The hot-blooded stars on E!’s Kill Reality series are supposed to be filming a horror movie, but the scenes backstage may be more fitting for a triple-X booth. While their on-screen debauchery has already earned the series impressive ratings, a source close to the show claims the real reality action took place at the stars’ communal Malibu beach house.

“The whole cast was drunk or wasted throughout the taping, and everyone was having sex with everyone else,” says the insider. “Not only were there orgies, but at one point someone relieved himself on Trishelle [Canatella, of Real World: Las Vegas and Playboy fame] in full view of the cameras—and, from what I saw, she loved it.” In another booze-fueled bacchanal, we hear Tonya Cooley, the lusty blonde of Real World: Chicago fame, begged co-stars to do lines off her genitals “because it turns her on.”

On a more romantic note, true love somehow managed to blossom between the strung-out participants. While viewers might be charmed by Survivor reject and internet porn star Jenna Lewis’s none-too-shy courtship of Real World: Las Vegas alum Steven Hill, we hear the relationship on everyone’s lips was the one between Kill Reality’s only gay star, Reichen Lehmkuhl of The Amazing Race 4, and American Idol’s Clay Aiken. While Aiken never appeared at the house, we hear Lehmkuhl was constantly taking calls from the pixie-like singer.

“Reichen swears there’s nothing going on,” says our source. “But Clay kept calling non-stop. It was all very weird.”

Though much of the show’s footage is too raunchy to make it onto the small screen, the show’s producers are apparently compiling an outtake reel of the kinkiest moments. “Other than the bathroom, every room was filmed, so there’s some really good stuff,” says the source, who hinted that the hottest material will find its way onto the internet sooner or later.

Wow. Except for Clay Aiken, I don't know who any of these people are, although the phrase "slutty Trishelle" does ring a faint bell somewhere in the far reaches of my noggin. But who cares if these are not exactly A-listers? Drunken druggie golden showers in front of the camera crew? Orgies? Claymates? Color me there.

And by the way, if Reichen marries Clay, will his name be Reichen Aiken? That would be rockin'!

Here's Reichen!

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And the bestest picture of Clay ever!

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Might as well throw in some Sluts on Parade. First it's Slutty Trishelle in Stuff Magazine:

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And even sluttier Tonya "Lines Off My Genitals Turn Me On" Cooley!

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Monday, August 29, 2005

All About Jamie Lynn

From Me, Britney Spears Federline, To You, My Fans, I Give You...My Letter of Truth, August 2005!!!

Hey Ya'll:

You guys may have heard from that nasty ole Page Six that I was feudin'-n-fightin' with a 13-year-old on the set of my sister's tv show, and I just wanted to use my Letter of Truth to set the record straight, OK, especially since "Chaotic Two: Electric Boogaloo" may not be picked up on the VH1 like I was hopin' for (although we got all kinds a interest from UPN, so we'll just see what the Good Lord intends for my Truth, ya'll!)...

Anyway, I know it sounds kinda crazy, that a sophisticated married lady of the world like myself--who is totally with child, ya'll! I gotta give a shout out to Baby Preston Federline! Holla!--would stoop so low as to scream and rant at a 'tween just because she was causin' troubles for my baby sis, Jamie Lynn.

But listen, ya'll. This so-called "child" actress was, like, totally and completely evil, all right? She was so Damian, but, you know...A girl. Kinda like a Mini-Me version of Liz Hurley, got the picture? Starts with a "b" and and rhymes with "weyotch"?

My super-awesome and totally wonderful hubbie, Kevvie, told me to stay out of it, but what does he know about the sacred bond between sisters? I'm sorry, but in this one particular instance, his normally enormously huge intelligence is of no use. Because I'm serious, ya'll, this little girl was gettin' in my Jamie Lynn's shizat, I'm not even kidding!

You may have heard that this Spawn of Satan, Alexa Nikolas (I hate to sound mean, but is she maybe foreign or somethin'? Could we get the Homeland Security people involved?) started cryin' after I told her that she better watch herself or she'd never work in this town again. Well, she is a trained actress, all right? Those tears were just for show! I know when I was 13, my momma had me locked in the shed outside our house in Louisiana for six days straight days and nights until I could cry on cue, so I know she was totally fakin' it, ya'll.

And all these nasty rumors that my sweet lil' sis is becoming a "diva" are so mean and like, not true at all! She is always right there when I need her, polishing my gold records and learning my songs and all my choreography and such (Kevvie is so nice and supportive, givin' her private dance lessons and helpin' her design her stage outfits and such, while I sip on my daddy's milkshakes in my dirty nightie, puttin' zit cream on my face and rubbin' my belly for good luck--he's just the best, ya'll, I mean it!), and she even fixes all my food and drinks for me.

You know, some day I'm going to wake up and this mysterious sore throat I've developed ever since Jamie Lynn moved in with me is going to force me to have her perfom "Toxic" for me at the People's Choice Awards or whatnot, and it will be so precious to me to see my own flesh-n-blood carryin' on the family name. I mean it ya'll, I'm cryin' right now just thinkin' about seeing lil' Jamie Lynn dancin' with Kevvie and wearin' my old flesh-colored spangly outfit (I saw her tryin' it on the other day and dancin' around while holdin' my VMA and admirin' herself in the three-way mirror and Lord, she looked so awesome! I can't believe I ever fit in that thing, honestly!)...

So, in conclusion, let me just say that The Truth shall set you free, and this is my Truth, and so I'm free to not be sexy anymore or have to do anymore crunches ever again if I don't want to, because I'm goin' to have a baaaaaaaaby ya'll, and that is a sacred and holy thing that I am so blessed to be able to experience, and I'm catchin' up with you Shar, ha ha ha, just kidding! (We are so adult and mature that we're almost like sisters, me and Shar, so she can take a joke!)

Next time you get a Letter of Truth it will be from an honest-to-god mama! I can't wait to have that whole "Mend It Like Beckham" procedure, ya'll! I'm gonna look hotter than ever! (Kevvie says he can't wait! For fatherhood, is what I'm sure he meant!)

Love, peace, and mamahood,
Britney Spears Federline

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Don't worry, ya'll! I so don't smoke anymore and I harldy ever even drink Red Bull or nothin' now that Preston Federline is almost here! Peace out!

Friday, August 26, 2005

Mos Definitely Gets Around, Trudie Gets Sloshed, Fez Gets Silly

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Page Six is reporting that cutie patootie Mos Def is quite the ladies' man:
Multi-talented rapper/actor Mos Def is one busy dude. We hear the Brooklyn-born performer, whose real name is Dante Terrell Smith, has five children by five different women. But that's not all: The latest rumor is that the devout Muslim has two wives. One of Mos Def's many former flames tells PAGE SIX he married Wife No. 2 after knowing her for just a few days. A rep for the randy rhymer seemed to take the news in stride, but declined comment on the alleged multiple children and wives.

Is there anything Mos Def can't do? He was funny as hell on "Chappelle's Show," made your humble blogette cry like a tiny baby with his dramatic performance in "Something The Lord Made," raps, sings, probably tap dances, and somehow has time to make five babies with five different ladies and have two wives. Well-played, sir!

Although I must send out my heartfelt condolences to Friend of Felt Up Terri R., who I'm pretty sure would walk on hot coals to be Mos Def's third wife. There's still hope, Terri! Mr. Def obviously does not stand on ceremony. Or U.S. bigamy laws. Huzzah!

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Mos with some ladies!

From Lloyd Groves' Lowdown column in the NY Daily News comes gleeful word that Sting's annoying wife Trudie Styler was so drunk that she had to be dragged out by her husband like a Sherpa short-roping a climber on Mount Everest:
That was Brit rocker Sting hauling his wife, Trudie Styler, out of Chelsea nightclub Bed the other night "over his shoulder like a fireman." A Lowdown spy reports the tantric-sex fans - whose 12-person entourage even included a couple of their offspring - appeared to be a little overserved. Sting's PR rep didn't respond to detailed messages by deadline.

Who am I to cast the first stone at Trudie Styler? We've all been there, right? Slung over Sting's shoulder like a sack of potatoes, passed out drunk in front of the kids? Am I right?

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This picture does not have much to do with the price of tea in China, but Sting and Trudie do look rather silly.

And finally, the Mystery of Why Anyone Gives A Crap About Wilmer Valderrama deepens day by day. Serioulsy, how does this guy do it? From the Lowdown:
Hell hath no fury like a C-lister scorned. When "That '70s Show's" Wilmer Valderrama showed up at promoter Ashley Margolis' birthday party in the Hollywood Hills the other night, he cut and shunned Ashley Olsen - allegedly for refusing to go on a date with him a couple of weeks ago.

"Wilmer strode in with a posse of five guys who looked like a Latin boy band," reports a Lowdown spy. "He walked straight past the Olsens without so much as a nod ... Wilmer was doing his best 'blue steel' face. It was hard not to laugh."

Yesterday Valderrama's PR rep responded: "He didn't know they were there. He's friends with Ashley, and he's never asked her out."

Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're Fez's publicist! What else are you supposed to say? It's not like you get paid to be truthful: "Why, yes, your spies are correct! Fez, I mean Wilmer, was making Zoolander's "Blue Steel" face at The Fat Olsen while surrounded by a Latin boy band! Thanks so much for noticing!"

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Bleh. Somebody explain his career to me, please...And then make it go away!

Thursday, August 25, 2005

Life Is A Cabaret of Accusations By Former Bodyguards, Old Chum

Poor Liza! Another tell-all book by a former bodyguard about her marriage to horrifyingly over-surgered gay man David Gest is making the rounds. This one is by Imad Hamdi, and according to Lloyd Groves' Lowdown column in the NY Daily News, Hamdi says that:
"I've written a book called 'Liza and Her Diseases.'....I can tell you that two major European publishers are bidding on it right now."

The 27-year-old Hamdi, a staunch supporter of Gest, otherwise earns his keep protecting Saudi princes, unnamed celebs and other VIPs who "rely on my discretion."

Hamdi is 6feet tall and 250 pounds, a self-described seconddegree black belt in kyokushin, or full-body contact karate. He surfaces every so often to claim on television that the 5-foot-3, 58-year-old singing star beat the living daylights of her defenseless husband, and to maintain that she once socked the hulking Hamdi so hard in the gut, "she winded me."

"When she drank, she became the Incredible Hulk," Hamdi told me. "It's all in the book."

The Moroccan-born, London-raised Hamdi - not to be confused with former Minnelli bodyguard M'hammed Soumayah, whose $100 million lawsuit claims the little lady regularly roughed him up and forced him to have sex with her - says he stoutly refused sexual overtures from his client.

"I think when she was depressed, she was sexually frustrated," said Hamdi, who calls himself "a hot-blooded hetereosexual male."

Hamdi gallantly continued: "The more I refused, the more frustrated she became. ... But she's not really my taste in women. She's old enough to be my mother - my grandmother, actually."

But he did, as part of his job, "rub a lot of goop on her," Hamdi acknowledged. "That's in the book."

Hamdi said he's hoping for publication early next year. "The book's written, and it's just waiting for the right time. And it's not about the money. It's about telling the truth."

Superflack Liz Rosenberg, a pal of Minnelli, retorted: "They can't even keep their lies straight. Liza Minnelli wouldn't and couldn't hurt a fly."

Liz Rosenberg is right! Liza only ever hurts herself. (Literally! She fell out of bed in a drunken frenzy last year and had to be rushed to the hospital with broken bones! God, I love this woman. But I digress.) Although I do like the idea of Liza demanding that a 27-year-old bodyguard "rub a lot of goop on her," I must say. And why shouldn't she? Liza has needs! Is she not made of flesh and bone? If you prick her, does she not bleed? (Well, at least bleed Dewar's, if not actual blood? That still counts, right? God, I hope so, for Liza's sake as well as mine.)

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Liza-n-David in happier times. They look as normal and all-American as apple pie. Who could ever have predicted this would all end in tears and lawsuits and accusations of wife-on-husband spousal abuse? Who? And people say Liza is a crazy. Look at her! She's as normal as you or I!

We're all pulling for you Liza with a Z! You will be vindicated, if not first publicly humiliated, yet again...Bring on the cabaret!

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

Run To The Hills!

Ooh, there was some old-timey Battle of the Bands goin' down this weekend, huzzah!

Apparently, a California Ozzfest show turned ugly when Sabbath fans started throwing eggs at Iron Maiden. According to CNN:
Iron Maiden's manager has condemned Ozzfest fans who pelted the band with debris during its performance at the hard rock festival's weekend stop near Los Angeles.

The British metal veterans also endured periodic outages of the sound system, and Ozzfest organizer Sharon Osbourne came on stage afterwards to call Maiden frontman Bruce Dickinson a "prick" for allegedly berating her husband, Ozzy Osbourne.

Sunday's dramatic show in San Bernardino, California, was Iron Maiden's last on the Ozzfest tour; Velvet Revolver has joined the lineup in its place.

"In 30 years in this business and after hundreds of gigs I have never seen anything anywhere near as disgusting and unprofessional as what went on that night," Ron Smallwood said on Maiden's Web site (

"The scale, viciousness and concentration of the throwing made it obvious that this was a premeditated and coordinated attack. Assaulting musicians while performing by throwing bottle tops, lighters and eggs at them from just a few yards away is vile, dangerous, criminal and cowardly."

Without naming names, Smallwood says he knew who was responsible for attempting to sabotage Iron Maiden's set, audio and video clips of which have begun circulating online.

"Those who participated or stood idly by and watched as all this went down should also be ashamed of themselves and I would certainly hope they never come near a tour with which we are involved," Smallwood added.

"If l had any sort of problem or misunderstanding with a band working on a tour we were involved in I would go and talk to them or their manager -- not wait until the end of a tour and assault and ambush them," he continued.

Oh, boo hoo! Iron Maiden got called a prick by a middle-aged mommie and had some eggs thrown at them! This is supposed to be heavy metal! Even indie rock dweebs of the lowest order could take a lil' eggin'!

Smallwood. Dude. Listen, man: It's not very metal of you to want a civilized sit-down with management when a tour problem arises! You're supposed to settle these petty jealousies with a large piece of wood, a jousting competition, and perhaps a little fire-settin'. Duh.

In other urgent, pressing non-news, Star Magazine is reporting that Johnny Depp has "girly man hands."

Yes, according to Jeannette Walls' MSNBC "Scoop" column:
Johnny Depp may be able to do a convincing pirate’s voice, but apparently he falls a little short when it comes to a pirate’s hands.

The makers of the sequel to "Pirates of the Caribbean" are looking for a gnarled-hand double for Depp because the "Edward Scissorhands" star has “girly man hands” according to the Star.

A spokesman for the flick denies the story, but a source told the tab, “[Depp] has very feminine hands, with long, slender fingers. It’s posed a bit of a problem for them.”

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Johnny's hands are a little feminine, I suppose...but I still love him!

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

If Alicia Silverstone Is Fat, Then I Am a Human Blob With No Reason To Live

The paparazzi are running even more amok than usual lately!

First Scarlett "Harlot" Johansson crashed her car at Disneyland trying to evade four SUVs full of photographers, and then poor Alicia Silverstone had her own horrific encounter with paparazzi at LAX.

According to Softpedia, Alicia said:
"I was walking through LA airport and saw a group of photographers. They suddenly gave chase, screaming, 'Hey, Fat Girl!

'I just had to escape. I ended up hiding in a box."

The article went on to say that:
Alicia Silverstone earned the heartless nickname after she dressed in a tight PVC cat suit which showed off her curves as Bat Girl in movie 'Batman'.

Let's look at a picture of Alicia in her "Bat Girl" costume, shall we?

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Well, they do have a point. What a lardass. Fatty, fatty, two-by-four, can't get through the kitchen door! Go hide in a crate, you fat slob!

The thing is, she wasn't ever fat to begin with, but now that she's the Vegan Poster Child, she's thinner than ever. Remind me never to become a famous movie star, all right? I'm pretty sure my fragile ego couldn't take having to hide in a cardboard box after being chased by a bunch of people screaming "Fat Girl" at me in public. I already lived through that in junior high. Once in a lifetime is enough!

Black Metal Giggles-n-Guffaws

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Not much non-news today; I guess after yesterday's downpour, a dry spell is to be expected. Courtney Love predictably and sadly denied the whole "I'm Pregnant With Steve Coogan's Cocaine-Binge-Fueled Love Child" story today--damn her! Damn her straight to hell!

However, all is not lost. Friend of Felt Up Lucinda S. sent in this link to Ruthless Reviews' brilliant compilation of the TOP 10 MOST RIDICULOUS BLACK METAL PICS OF ALL TIME.

(Warning: Some of the pictures are a tad gag-inducing, and others just make you laugh and laugh, then gag a little, then laugh and laugh some more. But do not fear: these pictures are very, very silly.)

Here's a mild example:

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Monday, August 22, 2005

More Tom Sizemore Than You Ever Wanted

Thanks to the WOW Report, here's the link to Tom "The Whizzinator" Sizemore's x-rated website featuring his home porn movies. DEFINITELY NSFW! Also, not for the easily depressed.

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Hello, God? Could you please blind me now? Thanks.

Love Child, Whizzinator Blues, Natasha Down-n-Out

The non-news is comin' in hot-n-heavy, hurrah!

First up, the Mata Hari of Gossip, Friend of Felt Up Michele S., sent in the bizarr-o word that Courtney Love, who just got sent to court-ordered rehab, is claiming to have a bun in the oven. And not just any bun, but the illicit love bun of Mr. Steve Coogan, the cult English actor who starred on the British tv show "Meet Alan Partridge" and is probably best known to American audiences for his roles in "24-Hour Party People" and "Happy Endings."

The News of the World has the scoop. It's rather long, but every single word is worth reading, believe me!
Wild woman of rock Courtney Love sensationally revealed last night that she is pregnant by Alan Partridge star Steve Coogan.

Approached in Los Angeles by the News of the World, she confirmed: "Yes, I am pregnant with Steve's baby."

Courtney, widow of Nirvana legend Kurt Cobain, discovered her shock news just three days ago through a home pregnancy kit.

The baby was conceived during her two-week, drug-fuelled sex fling with British comedian Coogan in LA when they were both staying at the famous Sunset Marquis hotel in West Hollywood.

Courtney told us: "I'd rather not talk about our relationship."

But we can reveal Coogan's demands in the bedroom were a world away from the stuffy antics of his blazer-wearing spoof chat show host.

Courtney told her friend: "It was literally non-stop sex. Steve is a f***ing sex addict and has a major substance problem.

"He even asked me to get ten Viagra pills for him so that he could keep going, despite the fact he was past the point of exhaustion.

"When I was with Steve, I did things that I shouldn't have done. I passed the line of what even I think is normal."

Courtney's friend told us: "Another time Courtney said he wanted to get a hooker.

"She told him she was too old for that. But Courtney told me, ‘That's his thing'.

"He got a whole load of paraphernalia from the Hustler store up the road from their hotel.

"She also told me Steve talked her into doing something unsafe and said, ‘If he's given me anything, I swear to God, I'm going to cut his d*** off!'"

Rock chick Courtney is also worried her street cred could be in tatters for dating Alan Partridge.

She told her pal: "Tell me honestly...what does it make me look like that I slept with Alan Partridge?

"Given the grade A stars I've dated it's embarrassing. I mean...Alan Partridge!"

Courtney, who has a daughter of 11, Frances Bean, by Cobain, is dealing with the fall-out from the torrid fling while she is in rehab.

She was sent there by a court after breaching probation for an assault charge. She must avoid drugs, produce four urine samples a week to prove she is off them and remain in a drug treatment programme.

But after one drug-fuelled night with Steve, during which she admitted taking cocaine, she produced a positive sample and was sentenced to a three-week stint at a rehab centre in Newport, California.

Courtney's pal added: "She told me, ‘I'm not going to point fingers but, regarding this latest matter with the court, a certain person I've mentioned was around me at the time'.

"Courtney can't believe Steve hasn't felt in any small way responsible for what has happened to her in court."

The rocker is said to be furious with herself for allowing Coogan to talk her into unprotected sex.

The pal went on: "Steve laid all the lines on Courtney. She's such a fragile being at the moment and she believed every word he said.

"He told her how special she was to him and that he wanted her to come with him to visit his grandmother in Cork.

"He admitted seeing seven other women as well as Courtney but he told her he wasn't in love with any of them—he was falling in love with her."

But now Courtney just feels her life is in turmoil over her pregnancy.

She told her pal: "This couldn't have come at a worse time for me."

The friend added: "She hasn't made any decisions about whether she should keep the baby or not.

"Coutney is 41 and this might be the last time she gets to have another child."

Dad-of-one Coogan, 39, was divorced by wife Caroline last month after he romped with lap-dancers. Aha!

Dude, I don't care if this story is as fake as Pam Anderson's rack--I love it! It has it all: An odd couple, drugs, hookers, unsafe sex, rehab, Viagra, an unwanted pregnancy, a grandmother in Cork, sex toys, the Hustler Just: wow. I am almost speechless. There. It's official: I'm without speech.

OK, I think I've regained at least part of my communicative abilities, such as they are. My favorite part is that Courtney's biggest concern is not failing her drug test, being pregnant, or having unsafe sex, it's that her "street cred" might be affected by her choice of sex-romp/drug-binge partner. Her priorities are, as always, impeccable! I also like how she blames him for her relapse. Drugs don't snort themselves, Courtney!

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The man who may damage Courtney's street cred, Steve "Alan Partridge" Coogan!

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An homage to our favorite moms, Courtney-n-Madge from German drag queens! I'm pretty sure that's supposed to be Courtney on the left...

I can't wait to see how this all plays out. Stay tuned!

In other unseemly sex-related non-news, it seems that Tom "The Whizzinator" Sizemore has a home-made sex tape making the rounds--and no one in their right mind wants to take a peek at it.

According to the NY Daily News:
A sex tape featuring actor Tom Sizemore is on sale online - but his former girlfriend Heidi Fleiss says you should save your money.

Last week, xPays, the same company that let Web surfers hear the moans of Paris Hilton, started peddling footage of the "Black Hawk Down" star getting down with several women. Sizemore's manager, Jason Tucker, says he isn't sure how the tapes came to be sold, but he believes his client "has a legal right to some of the proceeds."

"He's not embarrassed by [the tape]," Tucker tells us. "Tom said, 'It's the maraschino cherry on the banana split that's been my life.'"

What's more, Tucker suggests, viewers will get their money's worth. Portraying Sizemore as a reluctant superstud, Tucker says the "Saving Private Ryan" star, now in rehab, suffers from priapism - a medical condition that leaves his privates in a constant state of arousal. "He can have sex nine times without stopping," Tucker contends.

Fleiss thinks not.

"He needed Viagra when I was with him," the former Hollywood Madam tells us.

Fleiss also alleges the macho "Natural Born Killers" actor once invited her hunky ex-boyfriend John Enos to join them in a ménage à trois.

Enos, who starred on "The Young and the Restless," says he turned them down.

"I'd rather be hit by a train," he tells us. "What would I need him for, except to get me drinks and light my cigarette?"

Tucker denies there's anything remotely gay about Sizemore, based on "the relationships that I've seen him in." He also argues that Fleiss has an ax to grind, since Sizemore was convicted in 2003 of assaulting her.

Fleiss claims that Sizemore "has been trying to market these tapes forever. Nobody wanted them. Who wants to see him having sex?"

As for rumors that one Sizemore sex tape features Elizabeth Hurley, reports the actress is not on the currently available tape, but adds that two more Sizemore tapes are said to "feature the actor with different female celebrities."

Poor ole Tom. It's a long, long fall from co-starring with Robert DeNiro in "Heat" to being mocked by "Young and the Restless" star. John Enos would rather be hit by a train than have be in a Tom Sizemore sex sandwich? What's next? Carrot Top calling Tom ugly? Phyllis Diller telling the press she'd rather stab herself in the eye rather than tie Tom's shoe? Dating Heidi Fleiss? Oh, wait, he already did that. Never mind...

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From Old Men Crying. 'Nuff said.

And finally, just when you thought it couldn't get any sadder or more sordid, poor Natasha Lyonne, who was so great in "The Slums of Beverly Hills," "But I'm a Cheerleader," and "American Pie," has really hit rock-bottom. From MSNBC:
Drugs. Disease. It's a true Hollywood tragedy.

She rose to stardom in “American Pie,” but now actress Natasha Lyonne is fighting for her life.

The New York Post broke the story that the missing actress had been found. Natasha, 26, is struggling to survive in New York City's Beth Israel Hospital intensive care.
Story continues below ↓ advertisement

Reportedly, Natasha is suffering from hepatitis C, a heart infection, a collapsed lung and is covered in track marks.

She's also undergoing methadone treatment — typically used to help heroin users.

“I read the article. I'm crying actually. It's terrible, you know. It's my little girl,” Natasha's dad Aaron Braunstein told Access Hollywood. “It's a terrible tragedy, but she's going to get better. We're praying for her and she's a tough girl.”

Aaron visited his daughter one week ago and he thinks she may have contracted the hepatitis C while shooting the movie “The Grey Zone.”

“As we see in the paper, she's probably with the wrong crowd,” he added. “The main thing, she picked up the liver thing in Bulgaria during ‘The Grey Zone.’”

And Aaron is very upset about the article in the Post.

“There's a confidentiality between patient, doctor and hospital, so all of this is probably going to be a major lawsuit,” he continued.

Natasha, who has also appeared in “Slums of Beverly Hills,” “Detroit Rock City” and “Kate and Leopold,” was arrested for drunk driving in 2001, but it was about two years later when her friend Michael Rappaport — who rented Natasha an apartment in his New York Brownstone — started receiving complaints about his tenant.

Natasha allegedly terrorized the neighbors and destroyed the property. Michael told his scathing story about evicting his friend to Jane magazine for their May issue.

“Natasha, who I used to think was so cool, had s--t on me and my property…I tried to help her, a lot of friends did,” Rappaport told Jane. “But she screwed me. She can kiss my a--.”

Needless to say, her father wasn't pleased with the situation.

“There's no crime in America to keep an apartment dirty,” Aaron contends. “You're paying $5,000 a month, so Michael Rappaport used the judicial system to have my daughter break her lease.”

The Post reports Natasha had been living on the streets since her eviction. But her dad argues she owns her own co-op.

At the end of the interview, Aaron had one final message for his ailing daughter.

“Natasha, we love you. We're praying for you, God should bless you and we'll see you later,” he said.

Jeez, this is depressing. What's particularly sad is that it seems her dad only speaks to her through the press. Is he not allowed to see his daughter in the hospital? Are they totally estranged? How long was she "missing?" A big downer, man.

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But not too down to keep from posting her mugshot!

Celebrity mugshots rule! Huzzah!

Friday, August 19, 2005

Love Means Never Having To Say You're Hungry

Apparently starvation isn't good for one's mood. Go figure! The NY Daily News reports that:
Nicole Richie wasn't acting the part of supportive fiancée at the opening of DJ AM's Hollywood club, LAX.

The skeletal socialite tore up the dance floor with an unidentified hunk and waited nearly an hour before saying hello to her man. AM, who was spinning in his deejay booth, "ignored her and pushed her away from him with an angry look on his face," our spy tells us.

Embarrassed and hurt, Richie, who came up with the name of the club, rushed back to her table and urged pals Mischa Barton and Lukas Haas to leave with her around 1:15. In total, she stayed a little over an hour.

Yes, lack of calories may be making the formerly happy couple just a wee bit cranky. (DJ AM has lost over 150 pounds after gastric bypass surgery; Nicole is wasting away withoug the aid of invasive surgery, bless her overstressed lil' heart!)

And while I know "LAX" is an L.A. airport reference, could it also be a semi-subtle allusion to every anorexic's friend, laxatives? Just wondering!

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Thursday, August 18, 2005

The Rolling Stone Gathers No Moss, But The Moss Likes To Get Stoned

Sorry for the delay in posting today, but I was too busy giggling over the fact that, according to The WOW Report, the British press is calling Nude Law "The Talented Mr. Tiddly." (Even though the consensus at Felt Up HQ is that Jude is not all that teensy, it's still fun to laugh and point!)

Anyway, there wasn't much non-news out there today. I did get this little report from Gossiplist, however. It is a firsthand account of an encounter with the Doomed Crackhead/Mossy Affair, and mainly describes Ms. Kate Moss' beyotchitude:
We were at the Dior afterparty on the 5th of July because The Others played and they put us on the list, and Kate and Peter were there. At first she seemed ok to me...I went up to them, drunkenly exchanged a few words with Peter and lit Kate's cigarette, and at that point she just seemed stoned but otherwise fine.

But then, when members of The Parisians went up to talk to Peter because they know him, Kate apparently threw a fit and practically chased them away...

Then, when The Paddingtons played, I stood right next to Peter and Kate, and when he went up to sing on "50 to a £" with them, she rushed from where she'd been standing, and forced herself to the front of the stage. At one point, I accidentally bumped into her - the way you do at gigs, right? - and she shot me the most evil look possible, as if I'd committed a horrible crime by accidentally touching her.

Basically she just kept acting like that all night, from what I and my mates saw. Completely arrogant and bitchy. Needless to say, me and my mates were Not Impressed.

Well, to be fair to Mossy, it is actually a horrible crime to accidentally touch a supermodel. It's right there in the Geneva Convention: Section II, Paragraph IV: "No citizen of the undersigned countries shall engage in the unneccessary touching, handling, or grab-assing of an internationally-recognized supermodel, unless specific exemption has been granted by said supermodel. Any citizen who engages in such activity will be tried by a three-member tribunal, and the punishment may include, but is not limited to, eye-rolling, excessive sighing, and/or expulsion from the immediate area by a large bald man wearing a headset."

You're just lucky it wasn't Naomi Campbell, man!

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Naomi with her weapon of choice...

But back to Mossy. "Stoned?" "Arrogant and bitchy?" Our Lil' Kate? I find that hard to believe! Why, she's a close personal friend of fellow healthy dieter Lindsay Lohan--how could she possibly be anything but sweet as never-eaten pie? And really, nothing that the above informer describes is all that bad. I've seen far worse behavior backstage at the Dior afterparty, let me tell you! The stories I could tell about Andre Leon Talley!

A few more pictures of the elusive doomed couple have finally started to circulate:

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(via MyVillage)

Either Crackhead is fairly tall, or Mossy is rather short. (I know she's supposed to be short for a model, but here she looks short in comparison to the regular, non-modeling hoi polloi.)

Crackhead's looking almost perky. Less peaked. That $30,000 naltrexone implant Mossy bought him to fight that monkey on his back must be doing some good!

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Hey, Nude, Part Two

Here's a link to one of the Nude Law photos if anyone's interested. NSFW!

Hey, Nude

Poor ole Jude "Breakin' The" Law. He's the lead story in today's Page Six, and as David Niven might say, it's all about his shortcomings as a man.

Apparently there are some naked pictures floating around and everyone who has seen them has laughed derisively at the paltritude of his package. His decided lack in the meat-and-two-veg department. His huevos needing a bit more chorizo. His Longfellow not being what it used to be. His pieces needing more bits. His beans in want of a larger frank. His buns....Oh, read the damn article:
In snapshots that recall George Costanza's infamous "shrinkage" episode on "Seinfeld," the love-rat actor's meager manhood is on full display as he changes into a swimsuit outside his mother Maggie Law's house in Vaudelnay, France.

"He's no Tommy Lee, that's for sure," sighed one unimpressed publicist who viewed copies of the paparazzi pix obtained by PAGE SIX.

Late yesterday afternoon, e-mail images of the photos were being forwarded around the offices of Women's Wear Daily under the headline "Jude in the Nude in France," and accompanied by a not-so-subtle dig at Law's loins: "Ha!"

Law's rep, Simon Halls, declined to discuss his client's apparently puny package, telling us: "Oh, please! The guy is on vacation in France with his kids. People need to give him a little bit of a break."

When we asked Halls if Law, 32, is crying in one photo that shows him grimacing while talking on the phone outside the house — he supposedly has been begging former fiancée Sienna Miller to take him back — the rep scoffed, "Come on — he's got the sun in his eyes!"

You know, fame, like the nanny, is a fickle mistress. It seems like it was just yesterday--perhaps because it was just yesterday--that Jude Law's ass was voted "Sexiest Bottom" in a British poll of movie-goers. What can I say? The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.

Don't fret, Judie. There are many options for a man with your condition:

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Good luck!

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

Broken Bones Hinder Madonna's Bid To Become Queen Mother

CNN is reporting that Madonna's "Three Years To Fifty!" birthday party came to a literal crashing halt today when she fell off her horse at her English country estate. No doubt she was riding a right proper English saddle, dressed in full Versace tweeds, and carrying a Kabbalah-approved riding crop:
Madonna's 47th birthday celebration was marred when she suffered several broken bones in a horse riding accident at her country home outside London, her publicist told The Associated Press on Tuesday.

The superstar was hospitalized with three cracked ribs, a broken collarbone and a broken hand, according to Liz Rosenberg, her spokeswoman based in New York.

The accident occurred Tuesday at Ashcombe house, her estate outside of London.

Madonna and an assistant were riding horses, when Madonna, on a new horse she wasn't accustomed to riding, took a tumble. Her children, Rocco and Lourdes, were at the home but were not with their mother at the time, Rosenberg said.

"The whole family was out in the country, celebrating her birthday," Rosenberg said.

Her husband, director Guy Ritchie, took Madonna to an undisclosed hospital, where she was treated. Rosenberg said the entertainer was expected to be released later in the evening.

While I'm evah so sorry that Lady Madonna was injured (I wonder if the horse couldn't understand her Windsor Castle-By-Way-of-Detroit accent?), I must say that I love the picture CNN chose to accompany the story, wot wot:

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She looks like Terri Schiavo on a bad day. Someone at CNN's got a snarky sense of humor and deserves a round of hearty Felt Up huzzahs!

American Gothic

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Many thanks to The Presurfer for pointing out this site which combines two of my favorite things, DIY crafts and Goths! It's actually called Martha Stewart Gothic and it is totally and completely awesome.

The site gives all kinds of helpful and humorous advice for the crafty Goth in the mood for redecorating, including this list of motifs to choose from:
* Victorian
Perfect for AntiquityGoths.
* Medieval
Another fave of the Antiquity types, plus good for FetishGoth into dungeons.
* Techno-Modern
An obvious choice for CybertechGoth, also FetishGoth (it's so slick) and
MilitaryGoth (so precise).
* Cemetery
Well suited to the TrashyGraveyardGoths.
* Fairy
Seems a little Glittergoth and NewRomantic too.
* Asian
Another somewhat Cybertech and Fetish style, with HippyGoth leanings.
* Egyptian
Both Antiquity and Glitter with hints of Graveyard.
* Punk DIY
GothPunk of course!

Apparently "Goth" covers quite a number of sub-genres. Who knew?

What I like best about this site is that it doesn't take itself too seriously. Here's what they say about the "Cemetery" motif:

If crumbling stonework and tattered shrouds appeal to you, there are many things you can do to make your home resemble the inside of a crypt.


Crumbling, decrepit, tattered, torn.


There aren't too many colors in a cemetery, so the palette here is limited to black, shades of grey, and touches of white. Dried-blood red and faded dark purples seem appropriately evocative.


Softly worn velvets, shredded gauze, and tattered lace mix with rough crumbling stone. Nothing slick or smooth would be left in the boneyard.

Musical Background:

This is a pretty darn cliché Gothic setting, so any gothic music would be appropriate. If you wish to indulge the mood, try something terribly dirgey like Christian Death or ultra-mournful like Joy Division.

You Might See...:

Gargoyles, stone or iron candleholders, grave markers, rosaries draped hither and yon, coffin-shaped boxes, ratty gauze or lace curtains, jagged lace scarves on dressers and tables, religious figurines, a coffin.

On the Projects page there are tips-n-hints for anyone--goth or non-goth alike-- looking to put a faux finish on a table, do a little decoupaging, or drape a headboard. It's a Goth thing!

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(via Alarming Products)

The Ballad of Mossy And Crackhead Continues

More news of the Doomed Doherty/Moss Affair! The NY Daily News is reporting that Pete Doherty, in a shocking move, was arrested for drug posession:
Kate Moss' family and closest friends again have been urging the supermodel to break up with rocker boyfriend Pete Doherty since his drug bust Friday in Norway.

The Babyshambles singer was headed for a rock festival when customs officials in Oslo nabbed him and a pal at the airport, one for allegedly holding 1.5 grams of heroin, the other for 1.7 grams of crack cocaine. Oslo prosecutor Harold Holmsen wouldn't name Doherty, but confirmed "two British citizens" were busted, registered as criminals, and released hours later after Oyafestivalen organizers paid a fine. Doherty joined Babyshambles at Medieval Park five hours late for their show, which included a charming encore featuring him vomiting onstage.

The supermodel's mother, Linda, and Sadie Frost, Jude Law's ex, are among those trying to get "Mossy" to wake up and break up with the 26-year-old train wreck, whom Linda calls "Crackhead."

Perhaps most freaked out is Jefferson Hack, publisher of Another Magazine and father of the sloe-eyed beauty's 2-year-old, Lila Grace, who wants Doherty nowhere near his daughter.

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(photo via NY Daily News)

Is that all that happens in Oslo, Norway, when you get busted for crack and heroin? You register as a criminal and pay a fine? Huh. Note to self...

Can I just mention that I never noticed before that the father of Mossy's child is a magazine publisher named Hack? That's like being a butcher named Hammy McSteak or a gynocologist named Dr. Cooch Spelunker. But I digress.

Anyway, Friend of Felt Up Michele S. recently expressed her suprise that U.K. music fans seem to overlook Crackhead's druggy ways, and I tried to explain that as far as I can tell, my pale British forebears, who thought his old band The Libertines were the best English band since The Clash, apparently view him as a talented screw-up who harkens back to the Brian Jones/Jimi Hendrix/Sid Vicious type of out-of-control rock-n-roll wildness that has been sorely lacking in these days of carefully-controlled publicity machines and press junkets by squeaky-clean pop stars. Then again, they also went mad for the "Kids From Fame" throughout most of the 1980s, so they are just the teensiest bit insane when it comes to pop music idolotry.

Also, they like seeing a good, old-fashioned display of onstage barfing from time to time.

And, really, who doesn't?

While we're on the subject, according to Monsters and Critics, Crackhead didn't only hurl chunks during his performance, oh no:
A festival spokesperson says, "Babyshambles were late so they were rescheduled to play a 30 minute set at the end of the night. It wasn't the best performance. Pete got sick and vomited on the stage. He also threw vodka bottles into the audience and, at one point, told the crowd his singing was supposed to be out of tune."

Again, note to self: Next time you give a bad performance at a rock festival (hey, it could happen!), just remember to throw vodka bottles into the crowd, upchuck all over the place, and most importantly of all, tell the audience you're supposed to be out of tune! Works like a charm, every time...

FYI: When one enters "Pete Doherty vomit" into Google, 6,950 search results appear.

Monday, August 15, 2005

Love For Sale

I got a hot tip from Chepo P. that America's Sweetearts have broken up!

No, not Brad-n-Jen, that's olden-timey non-news! I'm talking about Heidi Fleiss and Dennis Hoff, of course!

Hoff owns the Moonlight Bunny Ranch in Nevada and is the star of the delightful HBO reality show "Cathouse," and we all know Heidi Fleiss for being Charlie Sheen's hook-up for hookers back in the day. (She was also physically abused by her last boyfriend, actor Tom "The Whizzinator" Sizemore. Girlfriend sure can pick 'em!)

Here's C.P.'s feverish report:
Moonlight Bunny Ranch owner Dennis Hoff and the Hollywood Madame Heidi Fleiss are no longer an item!

Becca Bratt, an employee at the Moonlight Bunny ranch, revealed on the July 28 edition of "The Howard Stern Show" that prostitution's golden couple have split up and that Fleiss is no involved with the much older Reno, NV, pimp.

Bratt, a porn star who has been a "working girl" since she was 18, said that Hoff was her boyfriend now, and that Fliess was out of the picture. She also stated that it she is one of the few girls at the Bunny Ranch to do scat parties! Sign me up!

Hoff and his legal brothel are the focus of the HBO series
"Cathouse." One episode shows Hoff's then-girlfriend, porn star Sunset Thomas, packing up and leaving Hoff because he sleeps with the girls at the ranch and is tired of fighting for his attention.

Huh. I don't quite understand the "scat party" reference--does it have something to do with listening to Ella Fitzgerald records?

Anyway, I find prostitution, hookers in general, and Heidi Fless in particular, to be utterly fascinating. I'm a big fan of those shows like "Hookers at the Point" and "Pimps Up, Hoes Down," as well as documentaries like "American Pimp." More hooker programming, please, HBO and Showtime! Give the people what they want!

Damn. I was really rooting for The President and First Lady of Pimping to make a go of it and prove all those naysayers wrong; maybe spin-off a sitcom (an updated "I Love Lucy," perhaps?). But, alas, it was not to be. Que sera sera, etc.

Who among us can understand the mysterious ways of love? Who can impose logic and order on the fleeting fancies of the heart?

Who can put a price on happiness?

Well, if anyone could, its Dennis and Heidi. Here's the "menu" from the Bunny Ranch:

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See? "Happiness" can be found somewhere between "Penis Pump Party" and "Shame and Humiliation," just as God intended...

Poor Dennis. He really seems to be taking the break-up very hard:

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(photo via West Coast Players--check it out!)

Dennis is the one in the yellow tie. Buck up little camper!

And here's our Heidi. She's kissed a lot of frogs; here's hoping that one day she finds her prince in shining pimp robes:

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Pimpin' ain't easy.

And C.P. helpfully provided a picture of The Other Woman (Among Many), Becca Bratt (if that is her real name):

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I must say she looks a little fresher than some of those poor "Hookers At The Point" ladies. She seems to have all of her teeth, for one thing. Yet another reason to legalize prostitution. I've got a slogan and everything:

"We're whores, next door, get used to it!"

Sunday, August 14, 2005

A Felt Up Exclusive!


Yes, I just got my greedy, grubby hands on this photo of one of my all-time favorites, Mr. Jackie Earle Haley, sent in by Beto G. in San Antonio. Apparently the elusive Mr. Haley showed up at Beto's art happening and actually agreed to have his photo taken, so here it is:

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Jackie Earle!

In case you don't know, Jackie Earle was the original and best Kelly Leak in the original and best "Bad News Bears" (as well as the underrated "Bad News Bears Breaking Training" and the best-not-mentioned "Bad News Bears Go To Japan"), plus he was a delight in such movies as "Breaking Away" (as Moocher) and the badly-named but enjoyable Tom Cruise vehicle "Losin' It." I love, love, love Jackie Earle Haley!

He mostly works behind the camera these days, and he tends to shy away from the "Where are they now?" profiles, so bless Beto's tiny little heart for sending this rarity my way! (Although according to the IMDB, it seems that Jackie Earle's got a role in the new "All The King's Men" starring nanny-bangin' Jude Law and the humor-challenged Sean Penn! Hurrah! I can't wait--even though there was absolutley no good reason for re-making "All The King's Men," I might go just to see J.E.!)

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Kelly Leak is a bad mother!

Friday, August 12, 2005

Semi-Unsafe For Work!

More pictures are coming to light of the Pam Anderson roast, where Courtney Love went on a drug-fueled rampage.

Also, apparently, an aging Angie Dickinson impersonator went a little crazy, too:

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Oh, who cares that Courtney looks like the bloated, maggot-ridden corpse of Joan Rivers on a bad day? I'm just glad Crazy Courtney is in the house!

It's been too long, baby! Welcome back!

Love, Exciting And New

Super-sleuth Friend of Felt Up Michele S. has sent in these images from The Superficial of Courtney Love's genius appearance at the Pam Anderson roast on Comedy Central, a bravura performance that we, the people will forever be denied, since the outrageoulsy over-zealous censors are keeping it from us:

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Unless, of course, there is a Criterioon DVD released of this incredible event. I've got my fingers crossed!

Thursday, August 11, 2005

All of Yesterday's News--Today!

Yes, now that I've had time to recuperate from "Wild on Tara," it is time to turn a bloodshot eye towards the two big non-news items that have come to light the last couple of days.

First up, what a shock! Courtney Love's "fainting spell" at the Roosevelt Hotel in L.A. a few weeks back was not due to a bad case of the vapors--unless you mean that super-special Lindsay Lohan brand of "exhaustion," snicker, snicker--as Ms. Love's drug test came back positive for some as-yet-unnamed narcotic, which, according to Page Six,
came as no surprise to anyone who attended the Comedy Central roast of Pamela Anderson Sunday night at the Sony Studios in L.A.

Love was "out of it" when she arrived.

On the red carpet, she slammed her head into a photographer's lens while posing for a close-up, a source said.

During the roast, Love, seated on the dais, repeatedly flashed her crotch at the crowd, pulled up her shirt to reveal a lacy black bra and shouted "Drugs on the house!"

She babbled incoherently into the microphone for ten minutes — prompting more than a few people to tell the rocker to be quiet.

After Love shouted, "I'm sober over a year now," host Jimmy Kimmel said, "If this is sober, there is a real problem."

One audience member snickered, "She makes Andy Dick look like a choirboy."

The roast will be televised Sunday at 10 p.m., but sources say Love's antics will "have to be cut. Even Comedy Central can't run most of what she did."

Love's manager didn't return calls.

OK, now I'm really pissed. First they cancel "Welcome to the Neighborhood," the horribly offensive reality show about not letting Mexican or gay people live in my hometown in Texas, and now the powers that be are denying me my God-given right to witness a full-blown Courtney Love drug-induced head-slamming, crotch-exposing public meltdown? Isn't that in the Constitution somewhere, right under "No state shall abridge the right of any individual to gleefully rejoice at Jude Law's affair with the nanny"? Why not just go ahead and deprive me of some more of my human rights, while you're at it, o puritannical tv killjoys? Why not take away my reason for living, AKA "Being Bobby Brown," or--gasp!--cancel my little bit of "Taradise," just because I like to get high on some primo, grade-A Reid! Doesn't the Geneva Convention mean anything anymore? What is this world coming to? What is happening to us as a people?

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A glimpse of what might have been....sigh.

The other big druggie news is the tearful reunion of Kate Moss and Pete Doherty. (Well, I assume it was tearful. I know that I wept a wee tear of gratitude.) Ireland Online reports that:
Pete Doherty and his on/off girlfriend Kate Moss are back together again, after the wayward rocker reportedly set fire to his bed to show the supermodel how much he loves her.

Babyshambles frontman Doherty most recently split with Moss after last month's Live 8 concert in London, during which he gave a widely criticised, shambolic performance.

And, following a week in which he was arrested for allegedly punching a British newspaper journalist, Doherty is said to have made a desperate cry for help by smashing up his guitar and setting a bed alight.

An insider tells British newspaper The Sun: "It's been a tough few weeks for Pete. He split with Kate, sacked his manager and got arrested for fighting a reporter.

"Things came to a head at the weekend. He was so frustrated he smashed up a guitar and set fire to his bed.

"Kate got to hear about it and let him come and stay. She still thinks she can sort out Pete and all his problems.
Wow. Setting a bed aflame is what brought Kate to her senses? She said to herself, "Ya know, it's that kind of dramatic gesture that says 'Husband Material' to me. Now that I think about it, maybe this is the time to bear his child! It would be just the thing to cheer him up, wot wot!" Or whatever.

Seriously, though: What the F? He sets the bed on fire to prove his love--and it worked? You know, I'm beginning to get just the beginning of an inkling that maybe these supermodels aren't very bright! Or is that just more of my crazy talk?

But the really good news is that I finally found a picture that does the happy couple justice:

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L'amour! Tourjours, l'amour...

Tara Alert Is On Red

Sorry, no new gossip today, as I am still reeling from last night's "Wild On Tara" premiere on the E! Network. Although I did hear that Courtney Love is doing drugs again (hurrah!) and that the Doomed Pete Doherty/Kate Moss Affair is back on (hurrah!). But I just can't deal with these matters now, all right, because I'm totally high on Reid!

I was never what you would call a regular viewer of the "Wild On" travel series, as my interest in foam parties on Ibiza is rather limited, but I did catch it from time to time, and I must say that I don't remember any of the previous hostesses--such as Brooke Burke--bringing quite the same level of joie de trash to the table as Ms. Tara Reid did. Their "job" consisted of jetsetting the globe in search of the perfect tan, the "hottest" party, and the tiniest bikini. Tara's job, on the other hand, is just being Tara in all her sloshed, falling-down, slurry, glory!

Tara! Oh, Tara. Bless her distended, booze-filled heart! Tara was just her usual drunken party-girl self, and her "hosting" duties did not interfere in the slightest with her antics. And instead of being incredibly hott, Tara was bloated and puffy and had makeup running down her face and kept talking about how "fat" she had gotten during the filming of her latest cinematic triumph, "Incubus." She talked with a deep, husky, blowsy old smoker's voice reminiscent of Marge's sisters Patty and Selma on "The Simpsons," and generally looked like Donatella Versace (if Donatella had been floating face-down in a pool for a couple of days).

The premiere took our lil' girl to Greece, where she asked a bemused waiter about the Acropolis visible in the background. "Doesn't that have something to do with a guy who, like, did something with potatoes?" she queried, inscrutably. After flummoxing her Greek waiter, she turned to her fellow diners and said, and I quote: "I make Jessica Simpson look like a rock scientist." Yes, "rock," I asked all of my viewing companions (we were watching at Friend of Felt Up Ursula F.'s lovely new home, by the way) and they all agreed that that was what she said, it wasn't just my wishful thinking. And you know what? She's right! She does make Jessica Simpson look like a rock scientist!

You see, all is not cocktails and boob-flapping in Tara's word. She wants to explore the cultures of the places she visits, as she explained to the Salt Lake Tribune:
"This is nothing like the old 'Wild On' with a bunch of frat kids going crazy," the bubbly Reid says. "It's about finding the culture and monuments. It's like you're following me on this incredible journey, and you're going to feel like you're one of my friends.

"You're going to see the people and the country and events and things we do. I feel like Willy Wonka, and I'm taking you into the chocolate factory. It's a classy show."

Tara then goes on to share some of her cultural insights:
St. Tropez, France, is one big party.

Sardinia, Italy, is her pick for most romantic city. In Mykonos, Greece, sea urchins with olive oil and lemon are said to be aphrodisiacs.

"At first I thought there was no way I was going to eat one of those. But let me tell you, they got something going on there. I was like, 'Woo hoo.'"

Wow! What a coincidence--I was like, totally "Woo hoo," too, throughout the whole show!

We learn so much about Tara and her life: That one of her favorite adjectives is "sick," as in "Oh, my God, Paris that ring is sick!" (Yes, She-Paris and He-Paris were around at the beginning of the show and they looked like they were constantly trying to dump poor Tara and leave her in the Greek dust, but were contractually obligated to go to two clubs, one dinner, and run around on a banana boat with her, against their will and better judgment. Ha, ha!) That Tara has a close male friend with a heavy New Yawk accent who travels with her sometimes. That Tara thinks potatoes will make her "even fatter." That Tara is lookin' for love in all the wrong places (I'm paraphrasing here). That Tara partied with delightful NFL football player Freddie Mitchell, who kept gettin' jiggy with it in his tighty-whitey drawers, and with legendary music mogul Clive Davis and (not at the same time) Urkel, both of whom, thankfully, kept their pants on.

To find out more about this historic television event, check out Club Taradise, where Tara will expand your mind with fascinating tidbits about world history, such as this:
In Cyprus, we went to the grotto where Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty, used to bathe. It actually looked like the Playboy Mansion grotto. I think that's where Hugh Hefner got the idea for his. So, now I think I've been in the two most famous grottos in the world. You felt so much history being there.

But which grotto has more history, I wonder? Hard to say...

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I Heart Tara!

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

What Doesn't Kill You Only Makes You Sing A Really Bad Song

Hee hee. Ashlee Simpson's creepy overbearing dad has forced her to use her public lip-synching humiliation as inspiration for new material. According to Page Six:
Just when everyone was about to forget Ashlee Simpson's embarrassing "Saturday Night Live" appearance last October, Jessica's punky sister has two tracks on her latest album, "Beautifully Broken" and "Who Will Help Me When I Fall," about being caught lip-synching.

Her manager/preacher/father, Joe, is milking the incident to promote Ashlee's second CD, "In Another Life."

"There's no way to run away from failure, because in everyone's life, you're going to meet it," he told MTV. "So we try to teach our girls the way to do it is head on. Pick yourself up, dust yourself off and go at it."

First of all, I take umbrage with the description of Ashlee Simpson as "punky." Liza Minelli has more punk rock in her pinkie than Ashlee Simpson does in her entire body!

Secondly, I think the songs should be called "Jessica Is Daddy's Favorite (He Talks About Her Double Ds And Not Mine)" and "Who Will Help Me When I Dance A Jig And Run Off Live TV When My Tape Machine Breaks (I Think I'll Blame My Band And Then Acid Reflux)." But that's me.

Page Six also had this delightful report about media whore Rachel Hunter:
Rachel Hunter was escorted out of a VIP room at the Oakley/Blender X-Games party at the Key Club in Hollywood the other night after she was caught eating the spicy chicken wings set aside for rap duo the Ying Yang Twins, the night's special performers.

Club staffers who went backstage to check that the group's catering demands had been met found Rod Stewart's sexy ex and four girlfriends helping themselves to the Twins' wings and booze.

After an indignant Hunter and her posse were shooed away, the club placed an emergency order for more "spicy chicken wings" before the rappers finished their set.

What a girl! She had the bold audacity to stuff her face with the Ying Yang Twins' Buffalo wings and then was "indignant" when the staff tried to wrestle a wing out of her greasy mitts? I wonder if her whole face was covered in neon orange Buffalo sauce. Wow. I think I might have just fallen a little bit in love with Rachel Hunter!

Hey, Rachel, I love wings, too! We have so much in common. You were on "Dancing With The Stars," and I watched "Dancing With The Stars!" You were married to Rod Stewart, and I thank God every night that I was never married to Rod Stewart! You are a statuesque former super-model who will do anything to maintain some modicum of fame and fortune, am I! I wonder if we were twins in a former life or something. It's kind of spooky...

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Mmmmm....spicy chicken wings.

Monday, August 08, 2005

It's A Hard Knocks Life

Apparently it needs to be stated that I did, in fact, knowingly and with malice aforethought post a photograph of one Sarah Jessica Parker in character as the lead in the Broadway production of "Annie," which I thought was perfectly obvious, but apparently was not.

So yes, I knew that SJP didn't actually spend her formative years in an orange curly wig and short red dress with white pointy collar, all right? It's still a funny picture!

Leapin' lizards!

I Understand Jean-Claude Van Damme A Lot Better Now

Thanks to The Presurfer for pointing me to a website chock full of of "celebs-when-they-were-kids" pictures, which is good for one or two whole minutes of diversion!

Here are my faves:

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Courtney Love, looking remarkably like Frances Bean.

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Sarah Jessica Parker: Fashion Icon of a Generation. Heh.

And the bestest ever:

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Jean-Claude Van Damme!

Ibrahim Ferrer, RIP

Another member of the Buena Vista Social Club has passed away, and this time it is my favorite: The sweet-faced, charming, and shockingly talented Ibrahim Ferrer.

According to
Ibrahim Ferrer of the Buena Vista Social Club died Saturday in Havana, Cuba, after a week-long bout with emphysema. The Afro-Cuban vocalist was seventy-eight years old.

Ferrer was one of the founding members of the Cuban collective that rose to international acclaim in the mid-Nineties playing Cuba's traditional polyrhythmic music known as son. The band -- which also featured guitarists/singers Compay Segundo and Eliades Ochoa, and pianist Ruben Gonzalez -- was organized by American producer/guitarist Ry Cooder, the sessions for which were captured for the popular Wim Wenders-directed film by the same name. After years of playing music in their homeland, the combined talents of Segundo, Gonzalez and Ferrer made them an overnight sensation in the States and Europe. (Gonzalez and Segundo both died in 2003.)

"An angel came and picked me up and said, 'Chico, come and do this record,'" Ferrer said in 1998 of being approached by Cooder years after his retirement from singing in 1991. "I didn't want to do it, because I had given up on music."

An orphan at the age of twelve, Ferrer joined his first singing group, Los Jovenes del Son, the following year, and later went on to sing vocals with the Beny More orchestra. His breakthrough song on the Buena Vista album was "Dos Gardenias," the Cuban classic which he had originally learned with More.

The Club won a Grammy in 1999 for their 1997 self-titled debut, with Ferrer contributing vocals that same year to the Afro-Cuban All-Stars' A Toda Cuba Le Gusta. Ferrer's first solo record, Buena Vista Social Club Presents Ibrahim Ferrer, recorded in 1999 at the age of seventy, went on to win him a Latin Grammy for Best New Artist in 2000. His most recent release, 2003's Cooder-produced Buenos Hermanos, was awarded a Grammy for Best Traditional Tropical Latin album.

Ferrer is survived by his wife, Caridad Diaz, six children, fourteen grandchildren and four great-grandchildren.

Although Compay Segundo and Ruben Gonzalez were romantic, dashing and debonair figures with incredible gifts, to me it was Ibrahim who was the heart and soul of the Buena Vista Social Club, both musically and in the documentary. The final scene of the film, when Ibrahim looks in disbelief at the stading ovation he receives from the audience at Carnegie Hall, his eyes full of tears of joy, is amazing.

I'm glad I got to see him perform a few years ago at the University of Texas. He was quite the showman, and his voice was as joyful as his demeanor, as he danced and shimmied like a man half his age. He will be greatly missed.

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More Signs Of The Impending Apocalypse

Looks like somebody's got a bad case of the Mondays, and it is me.

This certainly doesn't help:
The good ol' boys of "The Dukes of Hazzard" crashed past another pair of joke-cracking buddies to the top of the weekend box office.

The adventure comedy, which stars Johnny Knoxville and Seann William Scott as the mischievous Duke cousins, rounded up $30.6 million in its first three days of release, according to studio estimates Sunday. (CNN)

Jesus. Just when I thought the American people couldn't get any further away from my belief systems, this happens. I am aesthetically estranged from my fellow countrymen! Phooey!

Then there is another unholy report, this time from Page Six, that the founder of "Girls Gone Wild," icky gazillionaire Joe Francis, has hooked up with horse-faced beyotch Kimberly "Jen Aniston Is Homely" Stewart:
The two went public Thursday night in L.A. at the Maxim X-Games party at the Cabana Club, where they publicly groped each other much to the discomfort of Ryan Phillippe, Jeremy Piven and Wilmer Valderama.

Ye gads! When you make Wilmer uncomfortable, you know you are too disgusting to live. Get a room!

It is clearly time to take stock and reflect on our lives, people; the End Is Nigh. Nigh, I say!

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