Thursday, January 31, 2008

Britney Hospitalization V. 2--UPDATE


TMZ is now reporting that Britney Spears was taken to UCLA Medical Center rather than her former Cedars-Sinai pysch ward stompin' grounds, and has the following minor, but interesting, details:
Our sources say Britney said she was on Adderall, a stimulant used to treat Attention Deficit Disorder, and was taking up to ten laxatives a day. Side note -- cameras caught Spears a few days ago picking up a bagful of laxatives.

We're also told, when she was admitted, Britney accused her mom of "sleeping with my boyfriend." She wasn't specific on who she was referring to.

We're also told that for a time she was hurling profanities at her parents and staff.
Adderall is one of the "It" drugs of choice for celebs trying to lose weight, when they're not taking Rachel Zoe's horse pills, of course. So the poor thing was shoving fistfulls of A.D.D. meds and laxatives down her gullet in an attempt to make herself skinny...still don't see where this is unusual behavior. Ditto accusing her mom of sleeping with her boyfriend. Ditto "hurling profanities." This is Britney Jean Spears we're talking about, people! Par for the course, I say.

Developing!

Britney Loses Mind, Taken To Hospital On Gurney--Again


(image of Spears' peeps via People)

Lordy, ya'll. I'm sure most of you know by know that poor ole Britney Spears was taken by yet another police-ordered ambulence for yet another 72-hour hospital psychiatric evaluation last night. According to People:
Britney Spears was hospitalized at UCLA Medical Center for a psychiatric hold early Thursday morning, after being transported by ambulance from her Studio City home around 1 a.m.

An LAPD source tells PEOPLE: "Spears was escorted by police and is on her way to get help."

The singer, 26, was transported to UCLA for treatment and evaluation during a 72-hour emergency hold, known as a 5150.

"She went willingly. It was like something in her heart was telling her she should go. She knew something was wrong," confidant Sam Lutfi tells PEOPLE.

Police or a mental health professional can request one if a person is deemed to be a danger to herself or others. (Spears was held at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center on such an order earlier this month, following her Jan. 3 custody standoff with police.)

Spears's mother, Lynne – who's in the midst of a tense reunion with her daughter – friend Alli Sims and Lutfi were all inside the gated mansion when police and the fire department arrived.

What brought on the hospitalization? "She was driving around her neighborhood like a mad-woman," says a Spears family source. "Britney has been prescribed medication which she refuses to take. This is just another sad, sad evening."

Lutfi and Spears's father, Jamie, arrived at the hospital shortly after the singer. Her mother was later spotted leaving the Summit home with Spears's photographer beau, Adnan Ghalib, in the backseat.

Earlier in the night, Internet rumors claimed that the singer had attempted suicide, but Lutfi and Sims both denied those claims to PEOPLE.
Hmmm...this obviously doesn't sound like the whole story. Britney Spears was driving around like a madwoman and refused to take her meds? What else is new? That's just a Day In The Life for Brit-Brit. I bet something else happened...perhaps Angelina's pregnancy got her lil' mind to thinkin' about a stunt to get back on the cover of the tabloids? As I've said before, I cannot decide if she is genuinely mentally ill, a degenerate drug addict, or a master press manipulator hellbent on staying in the public eye at any cost. Or perhaps all three. So confusing!

I don't trust TMZ much for its accuracy (I know, it's not like People is much better, but in the pecking order of trashy celeb news outlets, People is like the Holy Bible compared to TMZ), but here's their account:
Last night, Britney's new psychiatrist went to her home and felt she was a danger to herself and others -- partly because of her reckless driving and partly because of her "downhill behavior." As a result, the shrink launched a plan (days in the making) to have Britney committed to UCLA Medical Center by calling the cops.

Sources tell us the cops knew it was coming. In fact, the plan was for cops and paramedics to take Britney away the night before, but it was scrubbed. Last night, it all went down according to plan. Cops even used code to minimize craziness in transporting Britney to the hospital. Over the police radio, she was referred to as "The Package."

Before the cops arrived, the shrink told her she was going back to the hospital and she offered no resistance. She said, "Is something wrong?" She made hot chocolate and waited. Her mom, Lynne, got extremely agitated, accusing Sam of engineering the impending commitment. We're told Brit told her to "shut the hell up." She demanded silence, sat on the floor and wrote notes to people who were there as they waited. When emergency personnel arrived, Brit went on the gurney without resistance.

When everyone arrived at UCLA, things got heated. Jamie Spears began screaming at Sam Lutfi, accusing him of trying to control Britney. We're told as far as the doctors are concerned -- at least for now -- Lynne and Jamie Spears are not calling the shots. The point guy for the docs is Brit's friend, Sam Lutfi.

Sources say after Britney's commitment earlier this month, she was extremely upset at her dad for getting angry at Sam and the hospital staff. Britney had lawyers draft several documents, however, we're told she did not sign a durable power of attorney giving Lutfi the power to make medical decisions on her behalf. Nevertheless, something was signed and doctors are going to Lutfi for guidance. Jamie went off on Lutfi in the hallway, accusing him of trying to control his daughter.

Britney has been calm in the hospital, even getting a "cigarette break."

TMZ also posted a video of Britney's ambulance going to the hospital, which you can watch here if you really want to.

That image of Britney making hot chocolate and writing notes while she waited for the ambulance come take her away is rather chilling, for some reason. Shudder!

I'll update as much as I can...however I do have, like, non-Britney stuff I need to do today. I'll do my best!

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Frightening Celeb Photo of the Day

In case you didn't see the terrifying photo of actress Raven-Symone that was on Go Fug Yourself today, or if you did and are still traumatized but would also like a helpful primer on her looks throughout the years, well, I'm here to help guide you through this difficult time. Breathe in the good, clean air! Breathe out the bad, scary Raven-Symone air! In! OOUUUUT!

First up, Raven-Symone as most of us remember her--a mildly annoying moppet on "The Cosby Show":



Next, Raven-Symone from her mildly annoying teen queen halcyon days of "That's So Raven!":




And as she appeared on Go Fug Yourself today, a mildly annoying freakishly wizened old hag of 23:



That's correct, folks. THIS PERSON IS 23 YEARS OLD! She is not a lesser-known member of the Jackson family! Or Paula Abdul's older sister! Or a former Supreme! I said 23!

Cleansing breaths, people. Serenity now!

More Knocked-Uppedness



Now Angelina Jolie has confirmed that she, like every other lady celebrity alive, is up the pole again. Whoopee. I'm trying to drum up some Jolie-Pitt babymania--oh my god, what if they have TWINS???-- but I just don't have it in me. I literally could not care less.

Happy Birthday To Felt Up!



Felt Up turns four years old today, but thanks to the miracles of Botox and Restylane, I don't think it looks a day over three! Still a hot, sexy baby! It's been an unpaid whirlwind, let me tell you. This is my 1,306th post and every word has been for you, the reader. As Lacey from "Rock of Love" would say, I hope you enjoy them, skanks! But seriously, folks, thanks so much for reading. Mwah!

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Fleshing Out The Part

O.M.G. Just when I think "Nip/Tuck" has finally run out of shocking things to freak me out of my skin, they crank it up another notch and then keep going! Huzzah!



**USUAL SPOILER ALERT**

**I'M KINDA GETTING TIRED OF HAVING TO DO THIS EVERY TIME**

**BUT I GUESS IT IS INTERWEB ETIQUETTE AND WHATNOT**

**HERE WE GO! THIS RECAP IS PRETTY LONG! I GOT A BIT CARRIED AWAY!**

First we see that everyone thinks crazy evil Gina, who plunged to her death during building-top outdoor possible-AIDS-spreading sex with Dr. Christian Troy last week, has committed suicide, which suits Dr. Christian Troy just fine.

Then Dr. Christian Troy and Dr. Sean McNamara meet with a nervous newlywed couple who tell them they had a spot of trouble during their honeymoon. It seems they were on a ski vacation and their car went off the road and stranded them in the snow for ten days. The wife has "extreme hypoglycemia," so to keep her alive they had their own private Donner Party and the husband gouged out chunks of his own flesh, toasted them up on the car lighter, and fed them to her. Truueeeew love! While the doctors operate to repair the husband's filleted body parts, they play '80s classic "I Eat Cannibals" by Toto Coelo. God, I love this show. God, I'm embarrassed I didn't have to Google who sang "I Eat Cannibals."

Next we see Dr. Christian Troy at his adorable son Wilbur's school, where his teacher informs him that Wilbur has bitten a fellow student and has been expelled. When Dr. Christian Troy tells her Wilbur's mother recently died and that he has not been told, she says she'll see if they can keep Wilbur in school, but admonishes him to tell Wilbur the truth about crazy evil Gina ASAP.

Back at home Dr. Christian Troy fantasizes that he tells Wilbur that "Daddy killed" his mother during sex, and Wilbur adorably asks him, "Was Mommy a skank?" and he says, yes, she was a bad person and they're better off without her. Oh, if only. In reality he tells Wilbur that Mommy went on a long trip and won't be coming back "for a long time." Oh, poor adorable Wilbur.

Then Dr. Christian Troy goes to the funeral home where crazy evil Gina's smashed up skull is being worked on by a cigarette-smoking mortician lady; apparently there's no way to "put this Humpty Dumpty back together again" so it's going to be a closed-casket funeral. Why they were even considering anything else is beyond my comprehension. Dr. Christian Troy tells crazy evil Gina's corpse that "for all of the times I wanted to kill you, this wasn't one of them." Aww, that's kind of sweet!

Back at McNamara/Troy, Dr. Sean McNamara's agent/possible stalker Colleen Rose (played brilliantly by blowsy old broad Miss Sharon Gless) has come in for a consultation about her hideously deformed "hammer toes." He is hesitant but she insists she's not looking for a "freebie," so he agrees. Flash on over to the surgery suite, where he says "it's hammer time," and I was cruelly disappointed when they played Nancy Sinatra's "These Boots Were Made For Walkin'" rather than MC Hammer, but you can't have it all, I suppose.

During the surgery a bunch of suit-wearing people with earpieces and sunglasses stride through the hallways. I figured it was either the C.I.A., a group of Scientologists, cast-members of a new Matrix movie, or Hollywood agents; it turns out to be the latter. They are from Creative Artists Agency, or C.A.A., and the lead agent, Bob Levitz, wants to represent Dr. Sean McNamara. Oddly, super-agent Levitz has never heard of Colleen Rose or her agency. My Stalk-o-Meter is going ding ding ding!

You know what else makes my Stalk-O-Meter go through the roof? When Colleen Rose gives Dr. Sean McNamara a homemade "Sean Bear" while the theme to The Exorcist plays in the background, that's what! I know, call me paranoid. She had secretly recorded Dr. Sean McNamara saying "Tell me what you don't like about yourself" so the Sean Bear can say it, too. Also, she's never heard of "Caw" (aka "C.A.A.")! Her hobby is "making Teddies"! AAAAAAAAAAH! Run for your life, Dr. Sean McNamara!

Even if Colleen Rose wasn't creeping the hell out of Dr. Sean McNamara and us, he's already being swayed to leave Colleen Rose for C.A.A. because David Levitz has ingeniously played up his agency's commitment to charity and invites Dr. Sean McNamara to New Orleans to build a house for "Katrina kids." When Colleen Rose finds out that he's going, she screams bloody murder and throws the Sean bear at him!

Elsewhere, Mr. Donner is not recovering well from his re-chunking surgery; he has an infection they can't figure out. His cannibal wife is hysterical and threatens to commit suicide if he dies!

Dr. Christian Troy and Nurse Liz go to crazy evil Gina's funeral, which turns out to be entirely filled with members of her Sexaholics Anonymous group. Awesomely, they take turns eulogizing the dearly departed thusly:

"She gave the best damn blowjob I ever had."

"Gina gave me the rim job of my life!"

"Her hand job was like an octupus."

"The taint is real, folks. Gina taught me that."

"I'm hard right now."

"I'm going to be whacking off to those memories for the rest of my life."

Then they totally kill the buzz with a guy who says that he was the one who gave crazy evil Gina AIDS and that she saved his life with her kindness. A) I don't buy it. She was crazy! And evil! B) Way to kill my boner, "Nip/Tuck"!

Back at school, adorable Wilbur bites another child and this one needs stitches, and the teacher is all "lawsuit" this and "expulsion" that, but apparently all will be forgiven if Dr. Christian Troy will have loud, vigorous sex on his couch with her. In the midst of this, she bites him hard on the neck...and he realizes that it is SHE who has been biting the kids and not adorable Wilbur! He calls her "Vampira" and says, "I hope you know how to operate a griddle, because you won't be teaching kids anymore." Heh. He brings a cop to the school to take an indention of her teethmarks, but the teacher had caps made so she can bite away and not get caught. Wily! He still gets her fired, though.

Mr. Donner's infection is worse but the mystery as to its cause is solved when Mrs. Donner admits she hacked off a piece of her own arm and fed it to him because a) "love nourishes," b) she wants to relieve some of her own guilt, and c) she is quite, quite mad. Her hunk o' love is rife with bacteria and she nearly kills him, but he is rushed to the hospital and saved with antibiotics.

Next we see the C.A.A. agent Bob Levitz arriving at Colleen Rose's "home office" in Korea Town, which is horrifyingly filled with teddy bears on every surface. She has nutured her crafty side by making an extremely scary "agent bear" with horrible icky vampire teeth and gives it to a rather unappreciative Bob Levitz. They argue about Dr. Sean McNamara and then she conks him on the head with a bottle of Asti and he wakes up to find himself strapped to a chair with duct tape. Colleen Rose rolls in some kind of giant box filled with white stuff with a hose attached to it while some frightening sing-song creepy childlike music plays in the background. She forces Bob Levitz to open his mouth and shoves the hose in; she turns on the box and it turns out that it is filled with Teddy Bear stuffing and she fills the "Caw" agent's mouth with it until he dies! What a way to go! Then she closes his eyes and puts fake Teddy eyeballs on the lids! And puts the Bluetooth headpiece in his ear! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Mrs. Donner is having surgery on her de-gouged arm while Billy Idol's "Flesh For Fantasy" plays. I can't take much more! This show! It's just too good!

Colleen Rose is back in Dr. Sean McNamara's office and she apologizes for her previous outburst and wishes him well with "Caw," and he tells her that agent Bob Levitz had "some sort of spiritual awakening" while in New Orleans which led him to send a "mass e-mail" on his Blackberry explaining that he has run off to work with refugees in Darfur. So he and Colleen make up and he is her client again! AAAAAAAAAH! THIS WILL ONLY END IN TEARS, AND POSSIBLY ANOTHER GIANT STUFFED HUMAN TEDDY BEAR, DR. SEAN MCNAMARA!

Dr. Christian Troy gets adorable Wilbur an adorable puppy--adorably named Lipo! And he finally tells him that Mommy is never coming back from "her trip." And scene! Fade to black.

Well, as incredible as this episode was, it may pale in comparison to what is coming next week, because according to the preview, not only is Elizabeth Berkely-lookalike scheming teenage sloot Eden going to meet her destiny and go into porn with Kimber, but also--hold onto your hats!--Miss Joan Van Ark and Miss Donna Mills from "Knot's Landing," Miss Shari Belafonte-Harper from "Hotel," and Miss Debra Shelton from "Dallas" will all be appearing, and bestest of allest, DONNA MILLS IS GOING TO GET FELT UP MUSE EMERITUS JOCEYLEN WILDENSTEIN-INSPIRED SURGERY TO MAKE HER LOOK LIKE A CAT! I think I just peed my pants a little. I don't know if my tender heart can take this much excitement! This is quite simply the most over-the-top demented, brilliant show ever broadcast. Bravo, "Nip/Tuck"! Siete brillanti! I don't know why but for some reason you make me want to speak Italian! And I haven't even seen next week's show yet! Sono nell'amore con la vostra esposizione della TV! Bravissimo! BRAVISSIMO!

The Young And The Restless: Rehab Update!



Awww. Usually I'm glad when someone goes to rehab, but in this case it makes me a bit sad. From the Associated Press:
Sean Young has entered rehabilitation for alcohol abuse following a weekend outburst in which she was heckling from the audience at the Directors Guild of America awards.

The 48-year-old actress was escorted from the ballroom at the Hyatt Regency in Century City Saturday night after sparring with Julian Schnabel, who was nominated for "The Diving Bell and the Butterfly."

"Actress Sean Young voluntarily admitted herself yesterday to a rehabilitation center for treatment related to alcoholism," a statement from Insignia PR said Tuesday. "It is understood that Young has struggled against the disease for many years."

I'm sure it's the best thing for her, but if being a rummy was the cause of her long history of nutty nutballery, well, I'm just the teensiest bit disappointed that it may all soon come to an end. There's not that many actors out there who will cause this level of public ruckus at an A-list event; I'm not counting the Lohans and Spears and Hiltons of the world, of course. I'm not sure how Sean Young even got invited to this thing (she famously--and awesomely--crashed the Vanity Fair Oscar party in 2006), but I'm sure she provided a lot of sorely-needed entertainment and gossip-fodder for everyone involved. Maybe they can cure her alcholism without curing her insanity? Maybe? Hope springs eternal!

Go Forth And Mulitply And Multiply And Multiply



Not only is everyone on Earth pregnant, but now they are all pregnant AGAIN.

The Young And The Restless



Ole nutty nutball Sean Young apparently made some sort of spectacle of herself at the DGA Awards, god bless her! Access Hollywood reports:

The 2008 Director's Guild Awards seemed a lot more like the Golden Globes this year, thanks in part to actress Sean Young.

The actress, who rose to fame in the late 1980's and early 1990's, reportedly began yelling in French as Marion Cotillard, of "La Vie en Rose" fame took the stage, according to accounts on Defamer.

A video clip of George Clooney in "Michael Clayton," also reportedly caused Sean to have another outburst.

While Julian Schnabel, director of "The Diving Bell and the Butterfly," was speaking onstage, Sean, decked out in a white fur coat, began to heckle Schnabel, reportedly yelling, "Get on with it!" and "Move it on!" referring to his speech, according to a report in Variety.

The director, who was reportedly visibly annoyed by the actresses' screams from the audience, responded to Sean with, "Have another drink, Honey!" Schnabel then began to leave the stage, but a cheering crowd convinced him to return, in order to finish his speech.

As Schnabel finished his speech, the Sean antics reportedly continued. She abruptly stood up, wrapped her fur coat around herself, continued to ramble, and proceeded to circle her table, only to end up back in her seat.

Sean was quickly and forcibly removed from the awards ceremony by security guards.

Sean has appeared in films such as, "Cousins," and "Ace Ventura: Pet Detective."


OK, that's just mean. Yes, Sean Young appeared in Ace Ventura: Pet Detective, but she is probably best known for her roles in Blade Runner, No Way Out, and as one of the two hot MPs (along with PJ Soles) in Stripes. Also for for the death of her once-promising career, being batshit crazy, stalking James Woods and leaving some kind of voodoo doll on his front porch, and of course, running around Hollywood in a homemade Catwoman costume in a bid to get Tim Burton to cast her in Batman. Oh, I Heart Sean Young! Don't go changin', special lady! Those stuffed-shirts like Julian Schnabel need a bit of wackadoodle to keep 'em real! Mwah!

Monday, January 28, 2008

Twig-N-Perrys



I've been having a hard time getting into Bravo's latest reality competition show, "Make Me A Supermodel," for a variety of reasons: a) I didn't think it was possible, but apparently I can get tired of Bravo reality competition shows, b) it's hard for me to care about the problems of young tall super-skinny pretty people, c) I've been there and done that with "America's Next Top Model" and "The Janice Dickinson Modeling Agency" and "America's Most Smartest Model" et al, and d) models are kind of inherently boring. However, the genius of Bravo programming is that no matter how little you want to watch one of their shows (like "Flipping Out" or "Work Out," etc etc ), they know that when there is absolutely nothing else on TV, when you have exhausted the annals of "Mystery Diagnosis," when "Intervention" is a repeat, when you've just finished watching the finale of "Sex and the City" for the one millionth time, and when you've actually seen the episode where the son gets his leg operation on "Little People, Big World" at least twice before, well then Bravo's got you right where they want you and eventually you will just give up the fight and let yourself get sucked in. Again.

Which brings me to aspiring male models Perry and Casey dressed in equestrian/bondage gear after tying each other up and biting and licking each other on a bed. Call me crazy, but I found it intriguing. Perry, who on a previous episode won the runway challenge with a broken foot, was the dominant one, and with his thuggish good looks and ability to appeal to straight women while acting gay, I think he has a bright future ahead of him in Hollywood, perhaps at the Scientology Celebrity Centre as a personal assistant to Mr. John Travolta, if not the runways of Milan and Paris. I love that he looks more like a prison guard than the actual prison guard who is a contestant on the show. Usually these male model dudes are waaaay too pretty/thin/young for my taste, but Perry's definitely got an appeal. Casey is also kind of cute, in a sweet, dimwitted, long-haired surfer-y way. They worked well together, that's for sure.

The bed thing was part of a "chemistry" photo assignment challenge, wherein the contestants were paired up in teams that had natural friction and/or awkwardness (haters with hatees, gay male with straight female, virgin with male ho, two straight females, etc) to see if they could overcome their obstacles to create chemistry on film. (They should have forced Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore to participate in this challenge before letting them make Words and Music. Ba dum dum! Try the veal!) Perry and Casey are straight, but they decided to be real men about it and not bitch and moan too much (there was some nervous joking, but whatever, I felt their intention was both to attempt to be cool and sophisticated with the gay theme and also win the damn challenge) and it was awesome. Very Velvet Goldmine mixed with Y Tu Mama Tambien. Here, check out this totes ridonkulous YouTube fan tribute montage of the photo shoot set to some is-it-supposed-to-be-funny? song by Mr. JC Chasez called "All Day Long I Dream About Sex" from wunderkind auteur Spiceboy97:



The runway challenge had a horsey/S&M theme, like an even kinkier Equus. (I do believe this is the second Equus reference I've made recently, and I still haven't made a naked Daniel Radcliffe joke yet! I'm losing my touch!) Normally bondage-y stuff leaves me cold, but this was so hilarious and the models all tried their best to have fun with it and not take it too seriously that I actually enjoyed it a little. Again, Perry and Casey were genius, and not surprisingly, Perry won the challenge.

I still haven't gotten hooked on this show yet, but if they continue to make straight boys lick each other's chins, well, I might be able to squeeze it into my busy television viewing schedule. I do have to admit I'm a teensy bit excited about the upcoming "Real Housewives of New York City," though, to my great shame. And I'm sure some day I will be desperate enough to watch "Millionaire Matchmaker," although I won't be proud of myself and will have to take a Silkwood shower immediately afterwards before descending down a shame spiral from which I might never recover. Bravo, Bravo! You continue to play me like a violin. Our co-dependent relationship continues to flourish...Well-played, indeed.

Frighteningly Hot Celeb Photo of the Day

Granted, this is not the most flattering shot of "L'eggo My" Viggo Mortenson (who is looking a tad Lucifer-ish around the edges here), but the mere thought of him standing so close to the epicenter of human hotness that is Javier Bardem at the SAG Awards last night is enough to cause a tsunami of simultaneous Chicken Lady-ing throughout the universe, at least if you define the "universe" as Felt Up HQ in Austin and Friend of Felt Up Terri R.'s in San Antonio:


(image via gawker)

Imagine if Clive Owen had wandered into the shot and then they all went off together and took a sauna with Vincent D'Onofrio? It is too much for my poor heart to contemplate. There. It just imploded. I'm dead.

Crock of Love

Dude, I can hardly bear to write about last night's episode of "Rock of Love," so crushed am I about whose tour ended far, far too early.


(image via buddy tv)

**WHAT'S UP, SKANKS? SPOILERS AHEAD!**

**SPOILERS THAT HAVE BROKEN MY HEART!**

**AND YET, IN A WEIRD WAY, THEY KINDA TURN ME ON**

All right, let's get this over with!

First up, the girls are rounded up and taken to a roller derby track, where they are informed that they will be competing in the "Stroller Derby," in which a specially-outfitted fake "Baby Bret" (complete with shades and doo-rag) is strapped into a stroller and the contestants, divided into teams, have to skate the stroller around the rink three times and protect Baby Bret from attacks by the real-life L.A. Derby Dolls team-members, who were joined by Season One evil beyotch Lacey, who charmingly greeted the Season Two ladies by sneering, "What's up, skanks?" The Derby Dolls would be chasing each team and doing their best to beat the crap out of Baby Bret, who had sensors to determine the level of damage he'd received, and the team who protected Baby Bret the best would win.

The show tried in vain to make it look like lying liar Lacey, who should really give up her "singing" career and become a spokesmodel for Hot Topic, is an actual roller girl, but you could tell that she was barely able to keep up with the Derby Dolls. They did their best in the editing room, but I wasn't buying her act for one second. She was careening around extremely unsteadily. Sadly, though, they didn't even use much footage of her interacting with the new girls, except when she was pounding on Baby Bret. I was hoping for some kind of catfight to erupt off the track, but they kept all the violence focused on Baby Bret. Sigh.

There was a lot of really scary-looking-yet-hilarious falling-down-on-ass shots (and I can speak from recent personal experience that this is a very painful thing to endure!), and in the end, the team with Kristy Joe won, because she could skate very fast. The first team basically let Baby Bret be killed, the second team managed to let Baby Bret lose an arm and get permanently brain-damaged, but the third team protected him to the degree that with rehab and hard work, he'd be just retarded enough to become a rock star. Kristy Joe, as MVP, won a one-on-one date with Bret, and the other team-members, Frenchie (aka Angelique), Inna, and Aubry won a threesome date. Huzzah!

Back at the house there was some stupid made-up nonsense drama about Kristy Joe talking trash about another team and none of it made any sense, but it did involve someone telling her that she looked like a "freak show" without her make up on, which was kind of true, since she shaves or plucks her eyebrows into tiny apostrophes over her eyes and apparently fills them in with a Sharpie when she's all done up. This was all manufactured so that later, when Kristy Joe had her private winner's date with Bret, all kindsa crap could be done to her in the name of skank justice.

Aubry, Angelique, Inna, and Bret go on their date at that horrible Forty Deuce burlesque club that was the subject of its own reality show a while back. They watch a dancer perform some oddly aerobic and incredibly unerotic speed burlesque and then of course the three contestants are supposed to get up and do some shakin' themselves. Angelique is immediately confused by the idea of stripping but not getting completely naked, and the burlesque lady keeps stressing to her that it's about the "ART of the TEASE, the ART of the TEASE," but Angelique does not get it. Maybe it was a language barrier, as Angelique only speaks 'ho.

Inna got up on the stage in a full-length gown which stayed fully-buttoned (or tied up or however it was fastened) as she kind of shook her ass a little and seemed at a loss. Bret rather unkindly refers to her as his "Ukranian love tank." Aubry is better and gets down to some be-fringed underpants and shakes them around a lot. Bret approves. Then Angeligue does what she does best: She took off every stitch of clothing and lay flat on her back on the stage with her legs in the air. There was some fake "ooh-we-could-lose-our-license" drama which made no sense since THEY WERE ALONE IN THE CLUB, and the date was over.

The girls at the house have had it decided for them by the producers of the show that Kristy Joe is The Villain now and that they are thus within their rights to sabotage her date and ruin her life in any way possible. The producers also force Kristy Joe to pick as her dream date with Bret a romantic homemade dinner in the backyard, so that the sabotaging will be more convenient. Destiny and Daisy are going to use their VIP passes to interrupt the date. Roxy, who also has a pass for winning last episode's dance contest with her Funky Chicken, decides that she will be classy and wait a bit before using hers.

Kristy Joe unwisely decides that this is the best time to inform Bret that not only has she been married twice, but that her second marriage is technically not over yet, as she is still in the process of getting an annullment. That's when Destiny arrives, wearing pigtails and a doo-rag, and proceeds to dismiss Kristy Joe from her own date and then straddle and make out with Bret. Ewww. Kristy Joe comes back and rightfully pouts a little. Then Daisy, patron saint of trout lips everywhere, arrives in some kind of Princess Leia slave girl bikini top and tries to do what Destiny just did, but for some reason this time Bret won't allow such rudeness and sends her packing. Apparently, in Bret Michael's world, it is OK to interrupt a date with a VIP pass once, but the second time is just being tacky.

Daisy is shattered by her faux pas! Bret comforts Daisy and stares at her boobs!

Elimination time. Every one of the girls wants Kristy Joe to go. But in the end Roxy was punished for her classiness and natural beauty (and let's be real here, her non-whiteness--like Bret is ever going to choose a black girl, HA!) and sent home. The other person sent home? O, I barely have the strength to type these words, but it was...it was...FRENCHIE, aka Angelique! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I can't believe the producers didn't keep her on longer! What were they thinking? I will miss everything about you, mon amie. Your hideous distended lips, your vaguely mannish mannerisms, your legs splayed for the world to see, your gutter French accent and the way the show "translated" your words phonetically, the fact that you gave your age as 25. THEES EEZ UN CRIME AGAINST 'UMANITEE. You have betrayed my trust, "Rock of Love 2." You have broken my heart. As I sit here, listening to Edith Piaf's La Vie En Rose on a continuous loop, I weep. You have denied us the full-on gyno exam, complete with speculum and stirrups, that was certainly in her future on this show. And that I do not forgive.


FRENCHIE!!!

However, I am excited for the triumphant return of Heather at some point this season.

Frightening Celeb Photo of the Day

Ack! The UK Daily Mail has this "before and after" comparison of Nicole Richie a mere two weeks after giving birth:



Goddammit, Nicole. I know I shouldn't be surprised--of course you didn't gain that much weight to begin with and anything you did manage to put on was most likely sucked out or snipped off during a Mend It Like Beckham procedure, followed by extreme starvation--but this is still such a terrible thing to do do the ladies, lady. How much angst and self-loathing did you just generate among impressionable post-partem women who now face even more pressure to lose the baby weight faster than Jake LaMotta before a championship boxing match? I hate you, Richie, I really do. Almost as much as I hate this insane everyone-should-be-pregnant-or-you're-a-failure-as-a-woman/everyone-has-to-be-perfect-within 24-hours-of-giving-birth culture we live in. Bleh!

Friday, January 25, 2008

Frightening Celeb Photo of the Day

Eeek! Check out this tableau of terror I got from Janet Charlton's Hollywood:



Janet's headline alone, which asks "Dita, Claudia, and Posh: Who Would You Rather Date?", is the stuff of nightmares.

I've always thought Dita Von Teese was rather an unpretty lady who is extremely--and I mean EXTREMELY--skilled with make-up and styling, but here she is reminding me of a female-ish Johnny-Depp-As-Willy-Wonka, mixed with Mommie Dearest. The other two are just their usual scary skinny selves, but somehow seeing all three of these freaks together is just absolutely bone chilling.

You Stay Classy, Sly!



Sylvester Stallone
has been acting all pissy lately about everyone's favorite nutty nutball Janice Dickinson and her recent claims that he injected her with steroids when they were dating. So, reports Page Six, when asked about the whole drama on Howard Stern, Sly said: "The only thing I injected her with was my fist." Heh. It's funny because it's true! And gross.

Interestingly, he went to say that
Brigitte Nielsen was one of the "least crazy" women he's dated and that saucy redhead Angie Everhart was demented. Stern, who also dated Everhart, said she is "very nice."
Huh. Who knew? Of course, to paraphrase Seal, you're never going to survive dating Sly Stallone unless you are a little crazy. But when Brigitte Nielsen is the paragon of sanity in the pantheon of your past relationships, you know you're in big trouble, dude. Then again, he is quite the mama's boy...

Another Celeb Might Be Pregnant. OF COURSE.



Star magazine says that despite the fact she is wasting away into nothingness and can't even nourish her own veins, Angelina Jolie has somehow managed to become pregnant with twins--but since we're talking about only Star reporting this so far, I'd take it with a grain of salt. Also, I could give a crap and am so sick to death of pregnant celebs it makes me want to hurl:
Angelina Jolie is pregnant again --and she is expecting lover Brad Pitt's twins, Star has confirmed.

Angie only discovered that she is eating for three over the past week, a source very close to the Lara Croft star reveals.
Is there anything worse than the word "lover"? Besides being pregnant with said lovah's twins, I mean?

If this is true, we must all prepare ourselves for NEVER-ENDING, 24/7, 365-DAYS-A-YEAR JOLIE-PITT TWIN COVERAGE FOR THE REST OF OUR LIVES. Can you imagine if they turn out to be identical? IT WILL BE A NIGHTMARE.

Thursday, January 24, 2008

Amy Winehouse Finally, Maybe, Possibly In Rehab--For Now



When stuff like this has been discussed ad nauseum for months and months with tons of speculation and no hard facts, I don't like to join in the fray unless a respectable news outlet is involved, so I can blame them when it turns out to be wrong. So I was relieved to see that the NY Times just posted this Reuters report:
British soul singer Amy Winehouse, who this week appeared in video footage apparently showing her smoking crack cocaine, has entered a rehab clinic, her record company said on Thursday.

The troubled 24-year-old, who has been dogged by frequent suggestions of drug taking in recent months, has also cancelled a scheduled performance at an awards ceremony in France this Saturday, record company Universal said.

"After talks ... she has decided to go into rehab," the company said.

I hope it's true and that she stays in. Now we must face our own crisis: Endless "She Said Yes, Yes, Yes To Rehab" headlines for the next few thousand hours...

Denim Make Her Brown Eyes Blue

Last night's "Project Runway" was a bit duller than I'd hoped from the sneak-peak they gave us last week. The challenge--which began with the contestants gathered in front of a warehouse on a dock--seemed so promising at first! I was hoping that inside was a giant pile of mystery junk under a tarp and that they'd be forced to make couture gowns out of a scrap heap of old tires or electrical tape or tin cans or something. But, alas, it was filled with Levi's 501 jeans.


(all images via bravo.com)

**OK, SPOILERS STARTING**

**DON'T GET YOUR DENIM UNDERPANTS IN A TWIST**

**YOU'RE EITHER IN OR YOU'RE OUT!**

There was a lady from Levi's on hand who told them that the challenge was to create an "iconic Levi's look," and then opened the warehouse to reveal the jeans and jean jackets that were all over the place. Poor Chris was once again at a disadvantage because of his size, since the designers were to run around beserk and grab as much denim as they could and shove it all into laundry bags. Sweet P., who apparently has never watched this show before and wore flip-flops on a field trip, lost a flop during the melee. These races go the swift! There were tons of jeans hanging on clothing lines, along with some white cotton material, but as fas as I could tell, no one used the white stuff, only the denim.

Back at Parsons, there was the usual swanning around talking about his own genius by Christian, who is getting on the others' last nerve with his extreme egomania. He also talks a lot o' trash about his competition, especially Our Lady of A Thousand Sorrows, Ricky, whom Christian thinks should not be there. The producers are clearly trying to position Christian as the "villain," but he's not evil or hideous enough for the job; compared to Wendy Pepper or Jeffy Dahmer, he's like Jimmy Stewart. A really, really young, gay Jimmy Stewart with asymetrical rooster hair.

The only drama this episode was between the Humorless Duo, Jillian and Victorya, who are now working solo humorless. During their team challenge, Jillian had made the awesome equestrian-inspired coat/jacket that wowed the judges, and what do you know? This week Victorya is making a fitted coat out of denim--and so is Jillian, again. For some reason this totally sends Jillian down a hate-filled shame spiral; she loses focus, can't manage her time, and pricks her fingers on the sewing machine so much that she breaks down in Ricky-esque tears. It's too bad she's not Elisa, 'cause then she could have used the opportunity to imbue the fabric with her bloody bodily fluids and become one with the Earth, or whatever the hell she used to go on about (o how I miss you, crazy lady!).

Tim Gunn comes around to do his critiques. He is concerned with the unfinished edges on Chris' dress, and Chris does the classic "Project Runway" mistake of ignoring Tim's advice and saying that he meant to do that and he likes it that way. Chris, you fool! Ignore Tim at your peril! YOUR PERIL, I SAY! You and Sweet P. are the only likable designers left! Please be more considerate of our needs!

Speaking of Sweet P., she is working on a patchwork denim wedding dress, for reasons known only to herself. But unlike Chris, when she hears Tim Gunn and his fears and concerns, she totally takes them to heart and starts ripping that thing up. Now, one time she went a little too far and ditched her entire outfit and almost got kicked off for her replacement dress (during the prom challenge), but this time she seems to know that she should just make some relatively simple taste and length adjustments.

There's hardly any footage of hot gay Mossad agent Rami, about whom we all were wondering one thing: How in the world is he going to do a Grecian drapey dress out of denim?

Christian, of course, is doing '80s puffy sleeves and skintight pants. He's the only one doing an actual pair of jeans, which was a smart move. The pant legs were made out of the arm sleeves of a jacket--that's how skinny they were. Christian thinks his outfit is fierce and he is a genius. Naturally.

Runway time!

Here's Christian's look:



Even though it's totally his usual retro pouffy thing, I have to admit the jacket cuffs open on the ankles are a great touch and I can see how Levi's would be able to sell this whole ensemble right now.

From Chris we have the dress that Tim had much furrowed-brow concern over:



It's not a disaster by any means, but it was a bit Gwen Stefani for Hot Topic for my taste. Chris is venturing dangerously back into costume-y territory! Be careful Chris! We love you and don't want to lose you!

Here is Our Lady of One Million Tears, Ricky, and his strapless mini-dress:



Somehow through his tears, he was able to create something nice. I liked the button-fly front details and the model looked cute. It's not the most creative, innovative thing I've ever seen or anything like that, but he did a good job, finally. Michael Kors was peeing his panties over this whole look with the beehive and talked about how Ricky, like him, must love Amy Winehouse. Oh, Michael, trying to talk all hip with the young people!

Rami's dress was not drapey! Huzzah! He did a similar-to-Ricky fitted minidress:



Except he added a Christian-esque '80s flapneck collar, and used zippers as trim (a la Jeffy Dahmer). The judges were just glad they were not transported in a Rami-built time machine back to an ancient Greece where denim togas were the fashion of the day.

Sweet P.'s dress came out great:



She shortened the length and that made all the difference. Funnily enough, this looks more like something that '70s-crazed Shields-and-Yarnell-inspired Jillian would have made. The judges went mad for it; in one of the cutest moments ever on this show, Nina Garcia said that "all of us here--the ladies, I mean--would wear this" and Michael Kors pipes in that he would, too, "with the right shoe!" It was pretty delightful. The only problem was that the Levi's lady didn't like it that Sweet P. didn't incorporate the Levi's logo red tag anywhere, so that spelled doom. You gotta push the brand, Sweet P.! It's too bad, though, because the other judges were in lurve with this dress.

Then the two coats from the Humorless Duo came out. This one is Jillian's:



She had the opposite problem from Sweet P.: The Levi's lady actually thought there were too many Levi's red tags! Jillian used them as a decorative motif on the shoulder and the result was fuuuugly. The whole thing was kind of blah and not up to Jillian's usual standards, but at least she was trying. Which cannot be said for Victorya:



This really looked like a regular ole denim jacket with a weird collar and skirt attached, and the judges thought so, too. But whose denim disaster was worth getting auf'd? Chris? Jillian? Victorya? It was hard to figure out which was the worst. And who would win?

In the end, and much to Christian's obvious shock, Our Lady of Perpetual Drama, Ricky, was crowned the winner through his vale of tears. He felt validated! He finally showed the rest of them that he deserved to be there! He cried and cried like a baby! And cried some more! And one more time! And somewhere in New York, right now, he's still crying! Sweet P. came in second, then Chistian, and ooooh, was he pissed. Hee-hee!

Thank goodness, our beloved Chris was safe. Then it was down to the Humorless Duo...and Victorya was OUT. Can't say I'm sorry to see her go. I think Jillian is way more talented, wears more ridiculous outfits, and sometimes will occasionally let out a teensy, tiny, half-hearted mini-grin. Victorya is physically incapable of amusement. And now she's gone! Huzzah!

Next week's preview was hard to figure out. Would they be designing for a swingers' club? Screaming toddlers? Sheep? All of the above? I guess we'll just have to wait and see...

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Olsen Twin Was Called Before 911


(image via evil beet)

The NY Times reports that the masseuse who found Heath Ledger's body "twice called a friend of his, the actress Mary-Kate Olsen, before calling 911, New York City police officials said on Wednesday." WTF?

Also, they've got a teensy bit of new information:
The officials, who provided new details about Mr. Ledger’s death, emphasized that no illegal drugs were found in the apartment and that there were no obvious signs of suicide. Tests on a rolled-up $20 bill that was found in the apartment found no evidence that the bill had been used to handle drugs, they said.

According to the police, around 12:30 p.m. on Tuesday, a housekeeper, Teresa Solomon, arrived at the apartment, at 421 Broome Street in SoHo, to do household chores. At about 1 p.m., she went into Mr. Ledger’s bedroom to change a light bulb in an adjacent bathroom; she found him on the bed face down, with the sheet pulled up to his shoulders, and heard him snoring.

A masseuse, Diana Wolozin, arrived to give Mr. Ledger a massage about 2:45 p.m. At 3 p.m., after Mr. Ledger did not emerge from his bedroom, with the door closed, the masseuse called him on his cellphone but got no answer. She entered the bedroom and saw him lying in bed. She took a massage table out of the closet and began to set it up near his bed. She then went over to him and shook him, but got no response. Using his cellphone, she used a speed-dial button to call Ms. Olsen in California to seek her guidance, knowing Ms. Olsen to be a friend of Mr. Ledger’s.

According to the authorities, Ms. Wolozin told Ms. Olsen that Mr. Ledger was unconscious. Ms. Olsen said she would call some private security people she knew in New York, and hung up. Ms. Wolozin again shook Mr. Ledger, called Ms. Olsen a second time, and said she believed the situation was grave and would call 911.

Ms. Wolozin called 911 at 3:26 p.m. to say that Mr. Ledger was not breathing. The call occurred less than 15 minutes since she had first seen him in bed and only a few moments after the first call to Ms. Olsen. The 911 operator urged Ms. Wolozin to try to revive Mr. Ledger, but Ms. Wolozin’s efforts were not successful.

Emergency medical workers arrived at 3:33 p.m., at almost exactly the same moment as a private security guard summoned by Ms. Olsen. The medical workers moved his body to the floor and then used a defibrillator and CPR, to no avail. Mr. Ledger was pronounced dead at 3:36 p.m. By that point, two other private security guards summoned by Ms. Olsen had arrived, as had police officers.

The police said that all five witnesses — Ms. Solomon, the housekeeper; Ms. Wolozin, the masseuse; and the three private security guards summoned by Ms. Olsen — were fully cooperating with the authorities.

What I still don't understand is what Mary-Kate Olsen had to do with all this? Apparently she did not own the apartment and was simply "a friend" of Heath Ledger's, but she was in L.A., and surely he had other friends in NYC, since he used to live in Brooklyn. So why on earth would the masseuse call her first? Maybe she was referred to him through MK?

It's so Hollywood rich person to call in the private security guys before the cops, by the way.

Frightening Celeb Photo of the Day

The WOW Report, which dearly loves posting photos of Madonna's hideously deformed over-excercised hands/arms almost as much as your humble Felt Up blogette, just put up the "first 2008 closeup photo of Madonna's hand":



It's kind of like Groundhog Day. If Madonna's veins bulge bluish, there will be six more months of Pilates. If they bulge white, it's hot-room yoga until summer!

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Puppetry of the Penis Is A Dying Art



Last night's episode of "Nip/Tuck" was a vast improvement over last week's bummerfest, especially because there was nary a peep from creepy Michael Jackson-lookalike son Matt or his Israeli burn victim muse, although I am still sick to death of Julia's illness. Friend of Felt Up Terri R. had to remind me that Julia was poisoned during the holidays with a deadly fruitcake by Elizabeth Berkeley-lookalike/evil teen sloot Eden, but this storyline still manages to bore me to tears. However, the rest of the show's story lines were totes boffo, thank god!

**WARNING, SPOILERS AHEAD!**

**LOTS OF 'EM!**

**HOT, NAUGHTY, DIRTY SPOILERS!**

**NIPPING AND TUCKING COMMENCES NOW**

First we had an old lady named Madga and her much younger dude, Jeff, who come in for a consultation with the doctors. It seems they are married, and way back in the '80s, the foul-mouthed awesome cougar made her boy-toy get electrolysis treatments so he would be smooth and hairless, as was the fashion then. Now she's changed her mind and wants him to be a "retrosexual" with a mustache, hair on his chest, and "fur on his ass." The dude is played by Robert Gant, who was Dr. Ben on "Queer As Folk," and I am sad to say that although the IMDB listed Miss Phyllis Diller as the old lady, it was clearly not her. I guess she couldn't do it for some reason, but oh how awesome that would've been! I feel robbed! Sigh! While they're all talking, Magda falls asleep and lets rip a fart, about which Jeff says sadly, "She was up until 1:30 am eating nachos and watching 'Last Call With Carson Daily.'" Well, weren't we all?

Then it's over to my beloved "Hearts & Scalpels" set, where genius Bradley Cooper, as hilariously egomaniacal actor Aidan Stone, is performing surgery, despite his character having suffered a bout of "river blindness" from operating on children in the Amazonian rain forest. When the scene is done filming, Aidan talks with his "blindness consultant," an actual blind man. Aidan asks him if was impressed: "I was doing some really cool shit with my eyes...what did it look like?" The blind guy demurs. Aidan then proceeds to tell him of his plan to "show that blind people can cry just like normal people." Hee hee!

Suddenly evil teen sloot Liz Berkeley-lookalike Eden shows up and she and Aidan go off to do it in his trailer.

In the mean time, Sharon Gless has arrived on the set as talent agent Colleen Rose, who wants to represent Dr. Sean McNamara. After she negotiates some re-shoots with Felt Up fave rave Oliver Platt (brilliant as usual as closeted gay TV producer Freddie Prune), Colleen gets the job. Since the theme music from The Exorcist seems to be playing in the background, I'm pretty sure Colleen is going to turn out to be bad news.

The next scene is in a conference room, where the major "Hearts & Scalpels" players are gathered. There is a videotape of evil teen sloot Eden and egomaniac actor Aidan going at it in his trailer being played on a TV, and Aidan is heard saying of Barbara Shapiro, the head of his show's network (played by Miss Marlee Matlin): "That deaf bitch? The only reason they let her in the Jewish mafia is to fulfill their disability quotient!" Then he proceeds to do a cruel imitation of her deaf speech patterns, all while boffing the evil teen sloot standing up at the countertop of his trailer. Barbara Shapiro is, of course, watching the tape. The best part is that after all this, Aidan's reaction is "I'm not a premature ejaculator!" and "I love the Jews!" Barbara tells him he has to go to rehab for three months and that Dr. Sean McNamara is the new star of "Hearts & Scalpels." Wowee! (Also, with the "L Word"'s Marlee Matlin and "Queer As Folk"'s Robert Gant and Sharon Gless, this episode is a veritable Who's Who of gay-themed TV superstars!)

In the mean time, Julia is sick, blah blah blah, and she thinks it might be AIDS contracted from her affair with Dr. Christian Troy. His craaaazy HIV-positive baby mama Gina, whom Dr. Sean McNamara brought in as a secretary on last week's episode to torture Dr. Christian Troy, preys upon his weaknesses, and despite the fact that he says he's "not going near that saber-toothed snatch" and that she's "got the gates of hell between her legs," she lures him into a "post-modern" three-way, where she watches him have sex with a hooker who looks just like her. When she complains that he's not looking into her eyes enough he responds, "This is not puppetry of the penis! If you want an acrobat, blow a chimp!" Oh, Dr. Christian Troy, you do have such a way with words!

Back in the office, poor ole Jeff is looking at his sweet new 'stache and talking over his probs with Dr. Christian Troy, when in walks his old lady, who demands to have sex right then and there, and, awesomely, to "sit on his face." Dr. Christian Troy manages to get Jeff out of his conjugal duties and buy him some time, but soon we see Magda on top of her stud in his hospital bed, yelling about her Tom Selleck fantasy, calling him "Magnum!" and screaming "Super Orgasm!" while Minnie Ripperton's "Loving You" plays in the background. Then he has a grand mal seizure and, we find out later, is a vegetable for the rest of his life.

Sharon Gless' agent lady gets all drunk (just like Cagney on "Cagney & Lacey!" nice shout out!) at a business dinner with Dr. Sean McNamara and starts getting a tad inappropriate by mentioning his "scrumptious weenie." In the car in front of her ginormous home, she makes a pass at him by offering up her naked boobs and describing them thusly: "They look fake, they're so perky!" He rejects her advances and drives off; we see her amble away on foot and realize: This is not her beautiful house! This is not her beautiful life! My God, what has she done?

Old cougar Magda picks up a fresh young kid and brings him in for some work to make him more handsome, and then lectures the doctors on doing whatever you want, whenever you want because there is "no one keeping score." I think this is a reference to atheism, or perhaps it's another kinky sex thing. You can never tell with this show.

Back on the set of "Hearts & Scalpels," Dr. Sean McNamara has his big scene as the lead actor, and it's a beaut! A Latino dude is in the fake E.R. with a bad case of literal, wriggling "human tail" that he is certain is a sign that he's possessed by the devil; he sprays green crap all over Dr. Sean McNamara's former fiancee/hot tub shitter/fellow actor Kate, which prompts Oliver Platt to ask an underling if he can "see if there's any of that pea soup left at craftie."

Then Sharon Gless as the agent shows up with some apology Jamba Juice, but Dr. Sean McNamara is having none of it and tersely tells her they have to keep their relationship business-only from now on, bans her from the set unless he invites her, and has a flunky dump the Jamba Juice (heh), then goes off to do it in his trailer with a young extra/sloot. It's already all gone to his head! He has become Eve Harrington to Aidan's Margot Channing!

Over in Gina/Julia/Dr. Christian Troy World, crazy Gina tells Julia that she and Dr. Christian Troy are having an affair, which he denies. Julia is peevish, and also dying from poisoned fruit cake. Gina has Dr. Christian meet her for a roof-top date, but he brings along a restraining order, which might put a crimp in some ladies' evening, but not ole Gina! She tells him he will always love her because she's "the filthiest piece of ass" he's ever had, and begs him to do it to her with a condom she has brought along for the occasion. He doesn't want to, but since he's Dr. Christian Troy, he totally does, against the railing. By this time I was shouting at the screen: YOU KNOW SHE POKED A HOLE IN THAT CONDOM SO SHE CAN GIVE YOU AIDS, DR. CHRISTIAN TROY! YOU ARE INSANE! Suddenly she falls over backwards and plunges to her death!

Oh. My. Gawww. So much to process! Next week, as I predicted, Sharon Gless is totally stalking Dr. Sean McNamara, and the mysterious "suicide" of crazy evil Gina is a touch difficult for Dr. Christian Troy to explain. Huzzah, "Nip/Tuck"! Huzzah!

Let's Take Our Minds Off The Sadness And Dance Like There's No Tomorrow


(image via mtv)

Friend of Felt Up Angela C. just sent in this link to the new Paula Abdul jam called "Dance Like There's No Tomorrow" that she's supposed to be performing at the upcoming Super Bowl (if they actually let her, that is), and I think Paula's thin, reedy voice may be the perfect antidote to the gloomy news reports of Heath Ledger's death.

Or not. Maybe it is the final terrible straw that will push us all over the edge, lemming-like, into permanently damaged Abdul-esque insanity. Hard to say!

Now It Might Be Suicide Or Accidental OD, And MK Olsen Had Nothing To Do With Any Of It

The NY Times is backing off their previous "probs a suicide" police report and are now saying of Heath Ledger's death that "signs pointed to a suicide or an accidental overdose, police sources said." (italics mine.)

Also, they are reporting that "sleeping pills — both prescription medication and nonprescription" were found nearby on a night table.

And, now Mary-Kate Olsen's rep says she didn't own the apartment, despite previous news stories:
“It is not her apartment,” said the representative, Annette Wolf, a publicist for Ms. Olsen. “She does not own the apartment. She has never owned the apartment. She and her sister have an apartment in New York City but they are not in this building.”

So, no one knows anything and everything already reported is pretty much wrong.

Heath Ledger Might Have Committed Suicide

Another update: Now the NY Times reports that "signs pointed to a suicide, police sources said." No other new details, other than that he was found "naked and unconscious on a bed, with pills scattered around his body."

Heath Ledger Found Dead In Olsen Twin's Apartment

Bizarre update: Now the NY Times is reporting that the apartment Heath Ledger was found dead in is owned by Mary-Kate Olsen:
The police said they believed Ms. Olsen, 21, was in California and said it was not clear why Mr. Ledger was in her apartment.
I don't know what it all means, but it can't be anything good.

Heath Ledger Dead at 28



From the NY Times, not some stupid tabloid:
The actor Heath Ledger was found dead this afternoon in an apartment building at 421 Broome Street in SoHo, according to the New York City police. Mr. Ledger was 28.

At 3:31 p.m., a masseuse arrived at Apartment 5A in the building for an appointment with Mr. Ledger, the police said. The masseuse was let in to the home by a housekeeper, who then knocked on the door of Mr. Ledger’s bedroom. When no one answered, the housekeeper and the masseuse opened the bedroom and found Mr. Ledger unconscious. They shook him, but he did not respond. They immediately called the authorities. The police said they did not suspect foul play and said they found pills near body.

Mr. Ledger, a native of Perth, Australia, won acclaim for his role as a co-star in “Brokeback Mountain”, a 2005 film. The film, based on a short story by Annie Proulx about two cowboys who fall in love, won critical acclaim. Reviewing the film in The New York Times, the critic Stephen Holden wrote, “Mr. Ledger magically and mysteriously disappears beneath the skin of his lean, sinewy character. It is a great screen performance, as good as the best of Marlon Brando and Sean Penn.”

He has a two-year old daughter with his ex, actress Michelle Williams.

I've said it before, but this time I really mean it: WHAT IS GOING ON? Too much tragedy all the time--it is starting to get to me.

In the mean time, Mel Gibson will probably live forever.

Horrible.

Our Long International Nightmare Is Over

Whew! Forget the crack, the heroin, the husband in prison--the real horror story with Amy Winehouse recently has been her bleachy orange hairdon't! So it was a great relief to note that she got her beehive back to black, and not a moment too soon:


(image via people)

Yay! Crisis over.

Zis Eez Just Pour Le Fun Et Un Peu Le Disgust


(image via vh1)


Jezebel just posted both a video of the "Rock of Love 2" talent/peep show and a link to some photos zat are extreeeeeemely NSFW of zee fan favorite Angelique, AKA "Frenchie," from her days doing ze porn, bless her leeetle heart. Vue dans la bonne santé!

Send Yourself Roses and Send Me This Book



Christmas is over and your humble Felt Up blogette's next 28th birthday is not until November, but I already know what you should get me: Kathleen Turner's soon-to-be-released autobiography, Send Yourself Roses! The UK Daily Mail has some juicy excerpts, such as this reminsicence about working with professional douche William Hurt on Body Heat:
Working with Bill Hurt was - shall we say - enlightening. In those days, he was pretty wild. He drank a great deal and took a lot of recreational drugs - he loved those magic mushrooms. He loved women, too; I don't know how many he went through during filming.

Bill always wanted to stay in character and be called 'Ned', even off-stage. He'd get a little teed off when I was chatting with the cameraman up to the moment we were ready to act.

My way of letting off tension is to have a laugh and then get to work - but Bill thought I wasn't taking my acting seriously enough. He'd glare at me and say he just couldn't understand how I could switch so instantly into character.

Or this cute story about making Crimes of Passion:
In my time, I've worked with some pretty eccentric people. Crimes Of Passion, in which I played a whore, was directed by Ken Russell, who's a mad, self-sabotaging genius, and my co-star was the actor Anthony Perkins, of Psycho fame.

Ken was drinking a great deal at the time, and as the days went on, things got increasingly out of hand. Anthony, who had an appalling drug habit, was taking illegal substances in front of all of the crew. You could see his heart beating a mile a minute.

Everywhere he went, he carried a little bottle that I was told was benzyl nitrate. We'd rehearse a scene, then before the call to 'Roll camera', he'd take out his bottle and sniff it with each nostril.

His face would go red and he'd break into a sweat - and suddenly I'd have no idea whether he was in control of himself or not. It was scary. I was quite worried about getting hurt.

Before one scene, where my character had to go from abject misery to laughter in a matter of seconds, Anthony said to me "You won't be able to do that without some of this," and tried to hand me his drugs.

I said: "Oh yeah? Watch me, a**hole." But actually, working with Ken and Anthony was nearly impossible.

Now, anyone who knows me is aware that I have a very closely-held belief that Peggy Sue Got Married is, bar none, without a doubt, the weirdest movie ever made. What about Tod Browning's classic Freaks, you say? Plan 9 From Outer Space by Ed Wood? Anything directed by Werner Herzog or Crispin Glover or that guy from Japan who does the milk-squirting-from-boob scenes? All as normal as apple pie in comparison with Peggy Sue Got Married. If you don't believe me, go rent it. IT IS INSANE. Some day I will write a monograph on the subject, for my thoughts on this film are waaaay too complex and far-reaching in their scope for a mere blog post. Suffice it to say that I am thrilled to get some of Ms. Turner's memories of the experience:
Another co-star who left a lot to be desired was Nicolas Cage, who played my boyfriend and husband in Peggy Sue Got Married, about an unhappily married woman who jumps back in time to her high-school days.

Now, Nicolas happens to be the nephew of Francis Ford Coppola, who was directing the film. And my contrary co-star was absolutely determined to prove that he wasn't there as the result of nepotism.

So, everything Francis wanted him to do, he went against - to show that he wasn't under his uncle's wing. Which was ridiculous. Oh, that stupid voice of his and the fake teeth! Honestly, I cringe to think about it.

He caused so many problems. He was arrested twice for drunk-driving and, I think, once for stealing a dog. He'd come across a chihuahua he liked and stuck it in his jacket.

On the last night of filming, he came into my trailer after he'd clearly been drinking heavily. He fell on his knees and asked if I could ever forgive him. I said, "Not right now. I have a scene to shoot. Excuse me," and just walked out.

And then there's the wee anecdote about working with Felt Up Fave Rave Emeritus, Burt Reynolds:

My unhappiest experience as an actress? Well, that would have to be a film called Switching Channels, which came out in 1987.

It had all started well enough. I'd had two rehearsals in New York with the wonderful Michael Caine, who'd signed to play my husband. But Michael had to leave to finish the latest Jaws film - Jaws IV, V, VI, whatever - and the shark machinery kept breaking down.

He didn't have a stop date for when he'd be free and I had my own stop date, for a very important reason: I was pregnant. When it was plain that Michael couldn't join us before I grew too big, the producer hired Burt Reynolds.

For whatever reason, the first thing Burt said to me was: "I've never taken second billing to a woman."

I excused myself, ran to my hotel room and called my husband, breaking into tears. Jay said: "Dry your eyes, be cool, go back, just do the film."

I did go back. But, oh, every day there were nasty little digs. For instance, because of my pregnancy, the production team had given me a golf cart so I didn't have to walk around too much - and Burt even made fun of that. He was just nasty!

One day, we started shooting a scene that Michael Caine and I had rehearsed, where we finish each other's sentences like old married couples do. Making that dialogue work needed real skill. It had to be fast; it had to be sharp. But Burt just couldn't do it.

The director finally said: "Look, why don't we just shoot line by line?" And, idiot that I am, I shot back: "Because it's called a scene, that's why."

From that day on, Burt and I were sworn enemies. He later accused me of trying to get him sacked every day and publicly declared that the sound of my name made him want to vomit.

I won't be rushing to work with him again, either.

Oh, is there anything better than a blowsy ole broad who will name names and dish the dirt? J'adore Kathleen Turner! OK, I've got to run over to Amazon and put this book on my Wish List...Huzzah!