Wednesday, November 30, 2005


Friend of Felt Up Michele S. thought this must be a hoax, but apparently Tom Cruise really did buy a sonogram machine to track the growth of the fruit of his turkey baster.

Uh, Tom, you are officially making my skin crawl.

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(via imao)

According to WENN:
Tom Cruise has been slammed for buying a sonogram machine for his pregnant fiancee Katie Holmes, with health experts warning that he's putting his unborn child at risk.

Officials at the American College of Radiology (ACR) are highly concerned by Cruise's revelation that he purchased the device to track his child's progress, and they're warning him that he could be breaking the law if he's carrying out the scans himself.

Dr. Carol M. Rumack, of the ACR Ultrasound Commission, says, "This is a patient safety issue. Untrained people, even if they have the financial means, should not buy, or be allowed to buy and operate, ultrasound machines which are, in fact, medical devices and should not be used without a medical indication. Images of the fetus are an opportunity to diagnose problems before birth that may require treatment. These images should be obtained by certified technologists under the supervision of physicians properly trained in ultrasound...The ACR is concerned that Tom Cruise has been badly advised regarding the use and potential abuse of ultrasound. There are many abnormalities that may be missed by the untrained eye. Also, if it is not medically necessary, the use of ultrasound raises unnecessary physical risk to the fetus."

No word on the American College of Radiology's official position on the unauthorized use of an E-Meter on a fetus, however.

Luckily, they come in pink:

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And blue!

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Tuesday, November 29, 2005

Caption Contest!

Winner(s) of last contest in previous post.

Today's challenge is to come up with something that captures the stupidity of Paris "P-Hole" Hilton cavorting with her new pet...monkey? Gremlin? Younger sibling? Whatever it is, I'm pretty sure, to paraphrase Walter Sobchak from "The Big Lebowski," that having an amphibious rodent inside city limits...without a permit...well, that ain't legal, either.

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Put your captions in the comments box, as is your wont. Good luck!

The Winnah(s)--It's A Tie!

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Tired of the press nipping at her heels, Britney Spears decides to nip herself in the bud. (porkmuffin)

Britney Spears' seeing-eye-breasts strangely lathargic. (deron bauman)

Monday, November 28, 2005

Herpin' For Certain

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It's time once again to guess which celebrity is being mentioned in today's Page Six blind item:
WHICH hard-partying hottie has herpes? The unlucky gal is notorious for calling her pharmacist and screaming that her Valtrex prescription be filled "Now! It's an emergency!" The pharmacist is sick of how she treats him and is telling other customers about her blistery problem . . .

Remember to put your guesses in the form of a rhyming name in the good ole comments box. For instance, I think the hottie in question might be someone whose name rhymes with Scara Peed. Any thoughts? Other guesses? Better rhymes? Let me have 'em!

In the interest of full disclosure, I stole today's headline from Gil C. who definitely does not have herpes. This week, at least.

I keed, I keed!

Friday, November 25, 2005

And They Said It Wouldn't Last

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Sneaky minx Jessica Simpson and her errand boy Nick "I'll Never Be As Good As Daddy" Lachey announced their separation to close friends, family, and Us Weekly over the Thanksgiving holiday:
'After three years of marriage, and careful thought and consideration, we have decided to part ways,' the couple tells Us in an exclusive joint statement. 'This is the mutual decision of two people with an enormous amount of respect and admiration for each other. We hope that you respect our privacy during this difficult time.'

Yeah, right. That's what Us does best, isn't it: Respect celebrities' privacy during difficult times? Ha! Nice try, Jess-n-Nick. Get ready for the dueling magazine covers: "JESS DROVE ME TO DRINK, OGLE STRIPPERS!" (Star) "JESSICA'S PAIN: NICK'S JEALOUSY OVER MY BOFFO CAREER KILLED OUR MARRIAGE!"(Us Weekly) "JESSICA FREE TO MARRY SVENGALI DAD" (National Enquirer, Felt Up).

I'm just glad our long national nightmare is finally over and I can go back to stuffing five gazillion turkey-cranberry-stufffing-n-Miracle Whip sandwiches down my piehole, the way God intended me to spend this weekend.

Now when in sweet holy Christ is Jennifer Garner going to pop that kid out?

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The Simpson/Lachey Holy, Sacred Wedded Matrimony: RIP.

Wax Off

Sad news: Noriyuki "Pat" Morita, best known for his work as "Mr. Miyagi" in The Karate Kid has died at the age of 73. According to CNN:
Morita died Thursday at his home in Las Vegas of natural causes, said his wife of 12 years, Evelyn. She said in a statement that her husband, who first rose to fame with a role on "Happy Days," had "dedicated his entire life to acting and comedy"...

Born in northern California on June 28, 1932, the son of migrant fruit pickers, Morita spent most of his early years in the hospital with spinal tuberculosis. He later recovered only to be sent to a Japanese-American internment camp in Arizona during World War II.

"One day I was an invalid," he recalled in a 1989 AP interview. "The next day I was public enemy No. 1 being escorted to an internment camp by an FBI agent wearing a piece"...

For years, Morita played small and sometimes demeaning roles in such films as "Thoroughly Modern Millie" and TV series such as "The Odd Couple" and "Green Acres." His first breakthrough came with "Happy Days," and he followed with his own brief series, "Mr. T and Tina."

I have always had a soft spot for Pat Morita, ever since he won my heart as that scamp "Arnold" on "Happy Days." And who couldn't love "Mr. Miyagi," I ask?

He had such a charming, intelligent persona. I didn't know he'd been in an interment camp. Sigh...

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Thursday, November 24, 2005


From the "Why Didn't I Win That Sweepstakes To Meet The Golden Girls?" file (sub-folder of the "Why Does God Hate Me?" file), as well as, comes this report:
We’ve told you before how cultured New Yorkers are, regularly packing readings and signings by today’s leading authors, artists and thinkers. But even we were surprised at the crowd that turned out to get Betty White, Bea Arthur and Rue McClanahan to sign the newly released DVD of season 3 of The Golden Girls, their iconic 1980s sitcom.

The lines in the Barnes & Noble bookstore in (where else?) Manhattan’s Chelsea neighborhood wound through the entire store and out the other end. Security was forced to lock the doors, so unlucky throngs of fans gathered on the sidewalks. Cheers, whistles and applause broke out as the ladies made their way through the crowd, arriving about 30 minutes late.

As things got underway, we all waited breathlessly when Betty White announced, “Now I’m going to do something really shocking”. Then, she put on her glasses.

At first we thought Bea Arthur was overcome with emotion at the outpouring of love, when she rummaged in her purse, pulled out a tissue, and put it to her face, but it seems she just had to blow her nose.

And you thought culture was dead.

I did! I totally thought culture--and Estelle Getty--were dead! Thank you for proving me wrong, Golden Girls! Where was Estelle, anyway? I think maybe she hasn't been well lately, which is a damn shame, because she rules.

Oh, so many memories...the lanais...St. Olaf...Stan...Big Daddy...the time Blanche's daughter got fat and her husband was abusive and Blanche stood up for her after years of strained relations...Shady Pines...the Elvis impersonators episode featuring a pre-famous Quentin Tarantino...cheese cake...oh, I could go on and on.

Need I remind you, loyal readers, that Christmas is just around the corner? Who wouldn't love to receive a handsome set of Season 3 "Golden Girls" DVDs, huh? Who?

Thank you for being a friend, indeed.

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The Girls are back in town!

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Beeeeeeeeeeeea! Oh. My. God. BEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

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Look at that crowd outside the book store.


Wednesday, November 23, 2005

Give Thanks, And Rejoice!

From ContactMusic:
TOM CRUISE has rubbished claims his pregnant fiancee must give birth to their child in silence in accordance with their religion Scientology - she must only remain "quiet".

The Church Of Scientology founder L RON HUBBARD ruled followers must, "Maintain silence in the presence of birth to save both the sanity of the mother and the child and safeguard the home to which they will go."

But Cruise has attempted to appease outraged critics, by insisting the rules are flexible.

He tells US talk show host BARBARA WALTERS on her The 10 MOST FASCINATING PEOPLE OF 2005 show - which airs in the US next week (29NOV05), "Like anything, you want to be as quiet as possible. There have been misinterpretations that the woman can't make any noise, and that's just not true. It's nutty.

"No, but just calm and quiet. I want Katie to be as comfortable as possible. And whatever she's gonna go through, she's gonna go through. And I'm gonna be there."

Presented to you, dear readers, as a small reminder that although the world is cruel, and life is hard, you have at least one thing to be thankful for: YOU ARE NOT KATIE HOLMES!

Think about it whenever you pick up a turkey baster...

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Happy Thanksgiving!

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

He Bang, He Bang

Oh, Ricky Martin. Today's NY Daily News has this wee item about the Latin Rick Astley:
Ricky Martin's sex life has long been the subject of speculation. But the loco-living singer offers a little too much information in the new issue of Blender.

Martin offers some icky details when he reveals he how he spices up bathtime. (Way too much information, Ricky.)

"I'm open to everything," Martin says. "There are moments for soft, gentle sex. And there are moments for a good spank in the butt."

Asked about his last one-night stand, he says, "We met, we did it, we left. I don't know if we're going to meet again." What would an ex-lover say about him?

"That I'm the love of their life!" says Martin, who hedges his pronouns before becoming more gender-specific. "I'm the best man that they've ever had, a gentleman who treated them like a lady.

Hmmmm. A gentleman "who treated them like a lady" after "soft, gentle sex" and "a good spank in the butt." Now, we all know that English is not Ricky's first language, but "a good spank in the butt?" JUST COME OUT AND SAY IT, MARTIN! YOU'RE GAY! GAY, GAY, GAY! NONE MORE GAY!

And, of course, that's totally fine. It's the charade I despise, although I do realize his career in Latin (and non-Latin, for that matter) America could be ruined by admitting, as Austin Powers would say, that the "lady" was a man, man!

But does he even have a career at this point? Wasn't his last hit in like 1999 or something? All he seems to do is perform on "The Today Show." Maybe he should get his old Menudo buddies together and do a nostalgia tour, like Bobby Brown and New Edition did a while back. Then you could have all the "soft, gentle sex" in the bathtub that you want, Ricky!

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In other non-news, Christina Aguilera was finally wedded in holy, sacred matrimony to her decidedly un-cute fiance after a gazillion pre-parties, showers, bachelorette nights, etc, etc, ad nauseum. Here's a picture of her in her Christian Lacroix dress:

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Since Christina's betrothed is so u-g-l-y, I had assumed that he must be a really wonderful, sweet, kind person to sweep a star of Christina's caliber off her feet (even if she was in total skank mode at the time), but Rush & Molloy's "Daily Dish" column said today that:
You had to figure Christina Aguilera's nuptials would get a little "Dirrty."

We hear her betrothed, Jordan Bratman, made it clear at their Napa Valley wedding last weekend that he was more than qualified to satisfy the bride.

Guests at Friday's rehearsal dinner nearly choked on their sushi when Bratman raised his glass and thanked his parents for "my good looks and large [bleep]."

Jordan's brother and best man, Josh, and his father, Jack, both stood up and proudly corroborated the groom's endowment. Another bride might have wished that her future in-laws would speak a little less and hold their peace. But, whenever the subject of Jordan's manhood arose, "Christina would just smile and nod," a spy tells us.

Yep, that is straight class, all the way! Mazel tov, Mr. and Mrs. Bratman!

I give it five months, tops.

Now if Jennifer Garner would just have her Affleck baby already, maybe we will be able to move on with out lives! Hasn't she been pregnant for three years now?

Monday, November 21, 2005

I'm Dancing As Fast As I Can

From the NY Daily News:
A hilarious video is doing the rounds that shows Cosmopolitan's legendary former editor, Helen Gurley Brown, in a dance audition for Ellen DeGeneres' show.

Apparently Brown, keen to plug her last book, had the short film made to convince Ellen to have her on the program to perform a "pas de deux" (that's a dance for two, for those of you who still haven't forgiven the French).

"She's wearing a leotard, and she's dancing to the best of Andrew Lloyd Webber," said a source who's seen the video. "She hired a Broadway choreographer to coordinate the number."

Brown, 83, high-kicks her way through the routine with a male dance companion. The video, which is about a year old, coincided with the publication of "Dear Pussycat," a collection of correspondence from her Cosmo days.

Inexplicably, the audition tape didn't land Brown a spot on the show.

Personally, I don't see what is so damn "hilarious" about a video of an elderly lady in a leotard dancing Broadway style. First of all, j'adore Helen Gurley Brown. The woman scraped off all her skin with Brillo pads to make her skin softer for her husband, people!

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Helen Gurley Brown! Huzzah!

Second of all, I, myself, have been known to occasionally don a Danskin and prance about Felt Up HQ doing jazz hands and ersatz tap dance routines to show tunes, although, rest assured, never Andrew Lloyd Webber. And sure, I may have videotaped my faux Fosse, my twee Twyla, my graceless Graham. And perhaps, I, too, thought it would gain me a spot on "Ellen," where I would talk about Felt Up: The Movie, which is in the works (in my mind). What of it?

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Friday, November 18, 2005

Sometimes You Eat The Bar Mitzvah, And Sometimes The Bar Mitzvah Eats You

Huzzah! Now this is more like it! Excitingly tawdry news has come in from Page Six, which reports that craaaaaaaazy ole Brittany "I'm Starving As Fast As I Can" Murphy was the sorry subject of one of Ted Casablancas' inscrutable blind items:
Brittany Murphy has been dropped by her manager, Joanne Collonna, and her agents at ICM.

Rumors abounded yesterday, but cited a nasty, not-so-blind item in Ted Casablancas' column on E!online, which claimed a "smacked out" actress named "Jordache Junky" (Murphy has recently starred in the Jordache jeans commercials) had sex with a waiter at an industry bar mitzvah.

A rep for Murphy, who has been helping her mother deal with cancer, said, "Brittany is making a transition in her representation and has parted ways amicably with Brillstein-Grey and ICM. Not the other way around. The blind item on E!online is not Brittany."

If I were you, I wouldn't invite Jordache Junky to your son's bar mitzvah. She might lure him into a stairwell and do him.

Now, don't get me wrong, girlfriends. Most boys would be thrilled to get into J2's prissy undies. I mean, she's been in, like, a million movies, many of which young boys just worship.

That's why I can't believe what she pulled at a Hollywood bash last week. Gulp. There's no delicate way to put it, so here goes: J.J. banged a cater-waiter. And she didn't take him home in a doggie bag. Nope, J.J. jumped this dude's bones in the damn stairwell.

If you think it sounds sexy in an Unfaithful kinda way, hold yer Trojans. She was wasted. And while most of the gals her age dig cocaine, J2's more of a, well, horse girl. Yep, she was smacked out. Poof.

Oh, Jordache. I'm sorry 'bout all yer on-and-off relationship woes. I'm also sad for yer latest flicks--which fail on a lotta freakin' levels. But really, honey. A catering dude in a stairwell at an Industry party?!

The above shoulda been the stuff on which porn movies are based--not some sad little episode that had the guy's colleagues nodding their heads in pitiful tsk-tsks. I hear nobody even broke a damn sweat! What kind of friggin' sex act is that--something George and Laura do?

Now, I know you're not friends with Paris Hilton. But maybe you should be?

Somewhere in there is a reference to heroin abuse, at least I think so. I am in dire need of a Casablancas-to-English dictionary! It seems as if Ted is more concerned with the tackiness of doing it with a waiter at a bar mitzvah than with her being "smacked out," but what do I know? And maybe Ted is right. It is pretty tacky. Seems more like something Tara Reid would do while filming "Taradise" in Israel...oh, "Taradise." We hardly knew ye! Sob. Sniffle. Come back, Tara! Come back!

But I digress.

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I'm pretty certain that the freaky-lookin' bobble-head doll with P. Diddy here is our girl.

Remember how she looked as Tai in "Clueless"? Anyone? Well, let's just refresh our memories, shall we?

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It's really quite startling. Brittany is one of those "I Just Grew Out Of My Baby Fat And Eat Healthy Now" girls who seem to be taking over Hollywood. I will always love her work as Luanne Platter, though...

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At least Lu Ann still looks healthy. Mmmmm...a Lu Ann Platter with fried fish and tartar sauce and mac-n-cheese and green beans with bacon and a yeasty roll would go down easy just about now...

Thursday, November 17, 2005

Because Two Blogs Are Not Enough!

Yes'm, I done gone and made me another doggone blog, dadgumit! Why I'm talking like a hillbilly is a mystery, though...

Anyway, allow me to introduce the newest addition to the Felt Up Empire: Thrifty Cent! It is all about the assorted interesting items of crapola that I find during my day job of scouring thrift stores, estate sales, and whatnot for stuff to sell in my store.

The new blog may not be updated quite as (ir)regularly as Felt Up or my Myspace blog, but, you know, if you're bored at work, uh, check it out every once in a while.

I would also like to extend the warm hand of blog friendship to anyone who has found something unique at a junk store or in a darkened alley or down by the railroad tracks by a hobo camp or wherever and would like to contribute a wee paragraph and/or photo of said item to Thrifty Cent. Our motto is: "Get Thrift Or Die Tryin'." Also, "Hey Shorty, It's Your Birthday, We're Going To Thrift Shop Like It's Your Birthday." (Note that I use "thrift" as both a noun and a verb, and so should you.)

And so on and so forth until someone makes me stop.

"I Got The Magic Thrift, I Know If I Can Thrift Once, I Can Thrift Twice."

OK, OK, I could go on and on. Really. I'm serious, people. Someone needs to do something, and fast...

All That Glitters IS Gold!

OK, people, I've said it before and I'll say it again: Christmas is just around the corner! Why do I mention this fact? Because of this:
From Google News:
Singing sensation Mariah Carey has mini-Mariahs made -- The R&B diva is reportedly having 3,000 special dolls made of herself.

She has asked toymakers to produce the dolls complete with a diamante butterfly ring which she always wears.

'There’ll only be 3,000 of them and while they're supposed to be for kids, they're likely to become instant collectors' items,' said a source.

No word on how much these "instant collectors' items" will cost, but whatever it is, it's worth it! A price above rubies! Or in Mariah's case, a price above boobies!

Ba dum dum! I'm here all week, folks! Try the veal!

But really, ladies and germs, I admire the way Mariah's mind works. After all, it's not every pop singer who thinks they should have a miniature doll made of themselves. Not every pop singer thinks they should have fresh puppies and kittens provided in every hotel suite during their tour. Not every pop singer asks to be carried around the set of their music video when their feet start hurting. Not every pop singer has their sunglasses brought to them on a silver platter. Not every pop singer has a glamor shot taken next to a homeless man. And most of all, not every pop singer has a full-on, honest-to-goodness, stripping-on-TRL, Frances Farmer-esque public breakdown!

But that is why Mariah rules: Say what you will about her music--that's beside the point! She is a national treasure. Now that Liz Taylor is entering the twilight of her career, this country needs someone to take up the gold-and-diamond encrusted mantle of Grand Dame of American Pop Culture. For a while there, with her nine gazillion husbands and flowing, Liz-like caftans and lack of discernible talent, I had high hopes for J-Lo to take up where Liz left off. But her controlling, Svengali-meets-Troll-Doll husband has put the kibosh on that. So it's up to Mariah--and perhaps, Beyonce, although she seems to goody-goody to give us the delicious world-class affaires de scandale that Liz was so famous for--to fill those dainty shoes and bring the glitz and glamour back to celebrityhood.

Down with tasteful Armani sheaths! Up with ermine capes and turbans and mini-skirts--literally! Down with mimimalism! Up with amethyst-covered tables and looted Nazi art treasures! Down with faux modesty! Up with mini-me commemorative Mariah dolls! Down with gloom-n-doom!

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Up with Glitter!

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Caption Contest!

Winner of last contest in previous post.

Now it's time to sink your teeth into this picture of poor ole Britney Spears, in which she appears to have forgotten to put on an essential undergarment:

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Leave your captions in the comments box, and good luck!

The Winnah!

Thought I'd forgotten, didn't you?

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(via a socialite's life)

oh no you diddyn't (deron bauman)

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

You Can't Hurry Love, No, You'll Just Have To Voight

First it was Burt-n-Martha. Now the odd couple du jour is Jon Voight and Diana "Call Me Miss" Ross, who are definitely an item, according to WENN:
Angelina Jolie's estranged father Jon Voight has reportedly found love with soul diva Diana Ross after the odd couple were introduced by Motown founder Berry Gordy.

The couple arrived together hand in hand at the recent Hollywood tribute to Ross' 1972 movie Lady Sings The Blues and pals claim they're very much in love.

A friend maintains the movie tribute was the ideal opportunity for Voight to be introduced to Ross' children. The pal says, "It was the first time all the kids met him together and it was obvious that he charmed them. At one point, when he was introduced to a family friend, one of Diana's daughters cracked, 'Jon's one of us.'"

Friends claim the couple have been fond of each other for years but didn't embark on a romance until last month when Gordy set them up on a dinner date. A source says, "Diana has been to hell and back over her booze problems and DUI (drunk-driving) arrest, and he (Gordy) kept telling her that since she beat her demons and emerged from the depths of depression, all she needed now was love. And I'll be damned if he didn't go out and find the perfect man for her himself."

Huh. Well, it just goes to show that you never can tell who is going to fall victim to cupid's arrow. Who will be next, I wonder? Donnie Most and Roberta Flack? Harvey Keitel and Haylie Duff? Keanu Reeves and Diane Keaton? Oh, right.

Monday, November 14, 2005

Borderline Hysteria!

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Friend of Felt Up Terri R. sent in this urgent communique today:
You should mention how awesome Tommy Lee Jones (I know you love him) is in your blog! There's a little bit about him on today complaining about Kay Bailey Hutchinson and her plans to give money to vigilante border patrol groups! TLJ loves brown people! He married one!

Terri R. is, of course, correct. I do love dark, brooding, flawed (he has delicious pock marks! Huzzah!) Tommy Lee. Sigh! Swoon!

And he is, indeed, awesome. First of all, there is his name: Tommy Lee Jones is second only to Rip Torn in the Manly Texan Name Hall of Fame. Then there is his talent. Need proof of his mad skills? First watch "The Executioner's Song," making sure to ignore Rosanna Arquette's naked boobs, although as they are almost as ginormous as her hideous rat-like teeth, that may be nigh on impossible. But try! Then compare TLJ's spot-on perfect performance in the excellent made-for-tv movie "The Amazing Howard Hughes" with the ridiculous fat-baby-playing-at-manhood monstrosity that is Leonardo DiCaprio in "The Aviator." Then witness Mr. Jones as the drunk, boorish, womanizing, yet oddly endearing Doolittle Lynn in "Coal Miner's Daughter," your humble Felt Up blogette's contender for Favorite Movie Of All Time. If you're feeling especially curious, check out "The Eyes of Laura Mars," "Jackson County Jail," and "Back Roads," a late '70s road movie co-starring Sally Field as a hooker with a heart of gold, while Tommy Lee plays a boxer with his shirt off most of the time--reason enough to see this movie, I can assure you.

At any rate, I'm glad to see that his politics on this issue are in line with my own (and Terri "Brown Power" R.'s), because even though he went to Harvard and was Al Gore's roommate, Tommy Lee keeps his political views pretty close to the vest, which I think is a good quality in a celebrity. He's so ornery and prickly that it has been difficult to figure out what he thinks about anything, except that one time on "Inside The Actor's Studio" he said his least favorite sound was "leaf blowers," and again, our thinking is right in line. I hate the sound of leaf-blowers too, Tommy Lee! We have so much in common!

But I digress. Here's the IMDB report that Terri mentioned:
Veteran actor Tommy Lee Jones has criticized Texan Senator Kay Bailey Hutchinson's ideas on how to control immigration on the US/Mexico border.

The Fugitive star, who lives in San Antonio near the Texas/Mexico border with his Hispanic wife Dawn, is angered by Hutchinson's plans for vigilante groups to guard borders.

He says, "We have a United States senator who has been quoted as saying that our borders are hemorrhaging, a bleeding wound... and wants to introduce a bill that pours millions (of dollars) into federal enforcement of the borders and by golly she wants to give money to the vigilante groups. Just like a lot of politicians, (she) feeds on headlines. In this case she's making her appeal to rabid paranoia which is dangerous. It's a very complicated issue. There are people working in agriculture whose families have been split by the existence of this border and they're willing and able to do jobs in the north that no one else will do. They don't deserve to have their culture and their families split in two."

Go Tommy Lee! Well-said, sir! Viva La Raza!

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Viva Tommy Lee! Viva!

And now for something completely different: Page Six reported today that Snoop Dogg is coming out with a product very near to your humble Felt Up blogette's shrivelled, blackened, tiny heart: HOT DOGS!
Rappers Lil' Jon and Ice-T may hawk their own energy drinks, but Snoop Dogg hopes to upstage them both with his new line of hot dogs.

The laid-back hip-hopper has lent his name to "Foot Long Snoop Doggs," which will feature a wrapper that bears Snoop's likeness, reports, which notes, "If Snoop Doggs take off, expect a line of J. Lo's huge buns to surface in the near future."

OMG. I loooove hot dogs! Foot Long Snoop Doggs? Awesome. Totally and completely awesome. I can see myself now, eating a Foot Long Snoop Dogg, sippin' on gin and juice, with my mind on my money and my money on my mind, driving around in my Cadillac Snoop DeVille, if I had one. I wonder if they're kosher? The hot dogs, I mean, not the car....

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I'll shamelessly use any excuse to put up a photo of dogs in costume! Any excuse!

And finally, Friend of Felt Up Rebekah M. sent in this delightful item over the weekend, about Martha Stewart possibly hooking up with Burt Reynolds (!):
InTouch says that Stewart has been nursing a crush on the Bandit.

"Ever since her prison stint, Martha's decided to live for the moment, so she pulled a few strings and got Burt's number. She gave him a call, introduced herself, and now the two have a secret phone relationship going."

I think that if a magic fairy were to grant me one wish, and my choices were: 1) world peace for all eternity, 2) the end of hunger and suffering on the planet, or 3) Martha Stewart and Burt Reynolds really are dating, I would definitely have to pick 3). The Bandit and the Felon? Are you kidding me? I would stop at nothing to see those two together!

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It's a good thing!

Thursday, November 10, 2005

The Truth About Diamonds Is What I Was Originally Going To Call This Blog

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Sorry the postings have been, shall we say, a tad erratic of late, but it was my birthday yesterday, and unlike, shall we say, Mr. Greg Beets, I am not so conscientious as to force myself to blog when it's my special day. Especially when the gossip has been so lame this week. I'm sorry! Greg is a saint! The Patron Saint of Good Bloggers! And I'm their Paris Hilton!

Speaking of Ms. Hilton, there are a few tidbits about everyone's least favorite human today. First up, if you'd like to watch the video of LAPD letting drunken rich jackholes ride off into the Sunset Strip after crashing their Bentley into another car and almost hitting a pedestrian, go here. The best line comes from some dude from that "Laguna Beach" show, who yells "I'm the only sober one, let's just go!"

In other P-Hole Hilton news, the NY Daily News reports that her former BFF Nicole "I'm Wasting Away As Fast As I Can!" Richie has written a novel called, fantastically, The Truth About Diamonds, and there's a character named "Simone Westlake" who is always "accidentally on purpose" losing her cell phone. Hmmm...that does ring a tiny, annoying bell, doesn't it? Apparently this "Simone":

Coerces "rock royalty princess" Chloe Parker to pretend they're best friends for an ad campaign. Then Simone stabs Chloe in the back.

Richie describes Simone as "a model, an actress and an all-around professional fake-rich girl" who has never been "seen out of pumps since puberty ... not even in her night-vision skin flicks."

Of course, any resemblance to Paris is purely on purpose.

Christmas is coming soon, people! Pre-order your copy today!

And just in case you still haven't gotten your fill of P-hole-related hoo-ha--and really, how can you?--some guy is selling photos of her mom, Kathy Hilton, on eBay this week. They are sort of disturbing. The interesting thing to me is how much the young Kathy looks like the pre-plastic-surgery, pre-blue-contact-lens, pre-fake-everything P-Hole.

Kathy, circa 1974:

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P-Hole, circa 1998:

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Genetics don't lie, they just make you pay for a lot of rhinoplasty!

OK, one last thing, and though it has nothing whatsoever to do with P-Hole or any other Hilton, it is still quite depressing.

The bizarre and decidedly un-fashiony Victoria's Secret Fashion Show featured the usual Brazilian hottie models, who were made by God to make us all feel like crap about ourselves, good ole Tyra Banks, who, when not wearing an unrealistic fat suit, was made by God to make us all feel better about ourselves, and Heidi Klum, who, after having her second child about twenty minutes before the broadcast, looked like this:

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Apparently, Heidi was made by God to make us all feel like setting fire to the nearest Victoria's Secret, comitting hari kari in the burning embers while screaming something anti-German to the heavens, and dying in a smoldering mound of Ipex (Patent Pending) size 32 AA bras while "Kiss From A Rose" plays softly in the background.

Or is that just me?

Tuesday, November 08, 2005

A Frog In The Hair Does Not A Breakdown Make!

It's a sad day when a celebrity meltdown brings your humble Felt Up blogette no happiness, but that is the tragic state of affairs today at Felt Up HQ, because Page Six reports that dark, brooding, deliciously off-kilter-looking Joaquin Phoenix is losing his mind:
The "Walk the Line" star — who spent some time earlier this year in rehab for his drinking — has been "acting very oddly" while promoting the Johnny Cash biopic.

"It seems like he is on the verge of a nervous breakdown," said one insider.

During an interview with the Associated Press at the movie's L.A. premiere on Friday night, Phoenix asked the reporter: "Do I have a large frog in my hair? . . . Something's crawling out of my scalp."

When the reporter assured Phoenix he "looked great," the actor replied, "No, but I feel it. I'm not worried about the looks. I'm worried about the sensation of my brain being eaten . . . What did you ask me?"

...Phoenix did a round of interviews with the print media at the W in L.A.'s Westwood but had a meltdown half way through the day.

One spy said: "In the middle of the print interviews he stood up and said, 'I can't do this. I have done 40 other [bleeping] interviews today,' and then walked out. He didn't do the radio group at all."

...The next day, Friday, during the television interviews, he was "just as difficult," and "cut interviews short and repeated that he 'can't do this any more' in just about every session. He looked like he was having a breakdown."

OK, whoa. Hold on, now, just a goddamn minute, Page Six. I don't see where there's either a meltdown or a breakdown in this report! I have very strict requirements for these words you bandy about like so much confetti, but you have not met them! So Joaquin thinks he has a frog in his hair. Big deal! Who hasn't thought that every once in a while? Why, just yesterday I thought I had a bee in my bonnet, but since I'm not a famous movie star, no one gave a damn! Just because Joaquin is a sensitve artiste who gets the heebie-jeebies from dealing with reporters, I don't think that qualifies him for the full-on Frances Farmer/"Snake Pit" treatment just yet. Lots of stars are press-shy! Lots of stars are "eccentric"---hello? Johnny Depp? What about Marlon Brando? He had frogs in his hair every day of his life!

Poor Leaf. I mean Joaquin. First he grows up with crazy fanatical cult-member parents who give all the kids hippie-dippy names and drag him and his family all over the world doing "missionary" work; then (I'm speculating) he has some kind of hairlip-fixing surgery which gives him that crucial, awesome (to me, anyway) flaw to his otherwise normal good looks; then he watches his beloved older brother die in front of The Viper Room; then he becomes a movie star; then he goes to alcoholic rehab; and now he's got to contend with the "spies" all around him who can't wait to call his admittedly erratic behavior a "nervous breakdown."

Phooey on you, Page Six.


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Friday, November 04, 2005

Possible TomKitten Sperm Donor Found!

Friend of Felt Up Terri R. sent an urgent request that today's post address the "news" that model, musician, and auteur Vincent Gallo is offering his sperm for sale on his web page, for a mere one million dollars. Quite a bargain! Check out his site for more details, but here's a snippet:
Mr. Gallo maintains the right to refuse sale of his sperm to those of extremely dark complexions. Though a fan of Franco Harris, Derek Jeter, Lenny Kravitz and Lena Horne, Mr. Gallo does not want to be part of that type of integration. In fact, for the next 30 days, he is offering a $50,000 discount to any potential female purchaser who can prove she has naturally blonde hair and blue eyes. Anyone who can prove a direct family link to any of the German soldiers of the mid-century will also receive this discount. Under the laws of the Jewish faith, a Jewish mother would qualify a baby to be deemed a member of the Jewish religion. This would be added incentive for Mr. Gallo to sell his sperm to a Jew mother, his reasoning being with the slim chance that his child moved into the profession of motion picture acting or became a musical performer, this connection to the Jewish faith would guarantee his offspring a better chance at good reviews and maybe even a prize at the Sundance Film Festival or an Oscar. To be clear, the purchase of Mr. Gallo's sperm does not include the use of the name Gallo. The purchaser must find another surname for the child.

Oh, Vincent. This is all a rather elaborate joke, isn't it? Not just the sperm thing. I mean everything. Every word you utter, every song you write, every movie you make, you're whole right-wing-Republican-sleazy-pretentious-jackhole persona-- it's all a big joke on us, the gullible saps? We're supposed to be indignant and outraged at your behavior, right? Make ourselves look stupid for not "getting it," eh?

At least I hope it's all a joke...or perhaps some kind of avant garde performance art. Aren't they the same thing?

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(via brooklyn vegan, naturellement)

Thursday, November 03, 2005

Fat Tyra and Phat Beats!

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Loyal Felt Up spy Tim sent in this item from the Associated Press about Tyra Banks and her talk show today:
Tyra Banks has gone undercover as a 350-pound woman. Banks wore the fat suit to experience what it's like to be obese.

"It seemed like the last form of open discrimination that's OK, and I decided to put on a 350-pound suit myself and live that life for a day and see what happens," the 31-year-old former supermodel told AP Radio in a recent interview. "And it was one of the most heartbreaking days of my life."

Banks said she was shocked at the reaction.

"I started walking down the street and within 10 seconds, a trio of people looked at me, snickered, looked me right in my eye and started pointing and laughing in my face," the talk-show host said. "And I had no idea it was that blatant."

The segment will air Monday on "The Tyra Banks Show."

Banks, who had a sonogram on her show in September to prove that her breasts are real, is also planning a Nov. 18 segment on pursuing "a beautiful booty."

She will reveal her own "dimpled butt" and receive endermologie treatment on the set.

Now, Tyra. While I applaud your efforts to understand the humiliation and pain of being obese, I have to wonder: Isn't it possible that the trio of people who snickered, pointed and laughed at you were merely mocking the fact that they were witnessing Tyra Banks walking around in a fat suit? I mean, girl, please. I've never seen a realistic fat suit, not even the one Gwyneth "I Hate Her More Every Day" Paltrow wore in "Shallow Hal." Especially not the one Gwyneth wore in "Shallow Hal."

We can send a man to the moon, but we can't make a realistic fat suit to enable thin celebrities to feel smug that they "know" what it's like to be fat in modern-day image-obsessed, cult-of-anorexia American society? Jeesh.

Where's the outrage?

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(via NY Daily News)

What do we want? Believable fat suits! When do we want them? NOW!

In other non-news, poor, pathetic ole Britney Spears' baby daddy Kevin Federline has let a little snippet of his new rap "Ya'll Ain't Ready" leak out onto the internets, and even though I know none of you will ever believe me, I have listened to this jam several times and I have to say that it's actually quite bad.

If you care to judge for yourself, you can download the song chunklet here.

Even Britney didn't like it!

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(via say anything)

Bring back the mullet, K-Fed! Bring it back and redeem yourself!

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

Yet More Signs Of The Impending Apocalypse

Eagle-eyed Friend of Felt Up Rebekah M. sent in this item from today's Page Six, about Paris Hilton's stolen-from-Mary-Kate-Olsen rich Greek boyfriend du jour Stavros Niarchos and his utterly delightful old-world manners:
Stavros Niarchos III is some kind of class act. After he fueled up at L.A.'s Element club the other night, the Greek shipping heir and a posse of pals stopped at Burger King.

"Stavros offered a homeless man outside $100 to dump a soda on himself," a source squealed to Us Weekly.

The desperate bum took the payout "and everyone laughed," reports the source. This one's a keeper, Paris!

Nice! Glad to see they know how to raise 'em right in Greece.

Yes, it's obvious why first M.K. "The Skinny One" Olsen and now Paris "Is Burning (Down There)" Hilton have thrown themselves at this charming young man. Paris knows straight class when she sees it, and that's hott!

Let's take a look at young, wealthy jackasses in love, shall we?

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"Wheeeeeeeeee! We're skinny and rich and nearly nude, and you're not! Wheeeeeeeeee!"

Somewhere, Satan is chuckling to himself. Yes, he is chipper this morning, safe in the knowledge that soon our souls will be his, because the "unholy joining in matrimony of a Greek sun king to his naked whore" is the Sixth Sign of the Apocalypse, people! Right after the "Leviathan washes upon the shore" and the "Seas turn red with blood," and just before the avian flu pandemic wipes the "wicked and the innocent alike" from this Earth!

It's all in there, in that scary book. You know, the one Tom Cruise made Katie Holmes throw in the garbage, along with her crucifix, First Communion photo, and St. Christopher medal, and replace with his autographed copy of Dianetics, a solid gold Special Edition Top Level Tom Cruise Model E-Meter, a bottle of multi-vitamins "specifically designed for the needs of the depressed post-partem mom," and a copy of How To Give Birth in Total Silence Without Painkillers--The Scientology Way! by Kelly Preston. You might have missed all that, because it was right before the turkey baster was inserted during their "Thetan procreation" ceremony.



We are, like, so doomed...