Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Gwyneth and I were born a year and 2 days apart - she on the 28th in "72, me on the 26th in "73, both Libras, both Daddy"s girls, both stuck up and bitchy, the foundation of a lifelong delusional friendship.
Gwynnie turns 34 on Thursday while I"m concluding a week"s worth of celebrations (read: sleep) for 33, and since she"s in the UK, half a day in front of me, I"m sending along a few very smutty birthday wishes - the least I could do considering my neglect has resulted in some assy behaviour of late
In today"s issue: Lohan drama - no end in sight, the return of Jude & Sienna, discussing Bosworth"s brand new beau, finally some Pitt gossip, pro-love for Ashlee, no love for Tara, McDreamy, McMarky, and your last favourable clues
Monday, September 25, 2006
Roll your eyes all you want but I"ve always said: Gossip is Immortal. Hollywood was once Versailles, Hollywood was once the White House, Hollywood is STILL Buckingham… the subjects change but the smut never does - tell THAT to the snot-nosed co-worker down the hall who obnoxiously waves around his copy of The Economist during lunch hour, and never ceases to remind you that he "doesn"t own a television."
Not that gossip has ever been more than an entertaining diversion and then something comes along that"s like another 15% off those designer shoes: a book that argues the historical value of gossip, its observational contribution a clue to understanding society and social behaviour through the ages, as told through the eyes and the wax of Madame Tussaud, considered by some to be the "original tabloid journalist" - paraffin was her pen, lifelike figures worth a thousand words and tall tales.
It"s fascinating read, Madame Tussaud: A Life in Wax by Kate Berridge.
In today"s issue: Lilo lovesick, the philanthropic Pitts, the friendless Gwyneth, Victoria in Rome, Gisele in Vogue, my saccharine suicide, Three Whiskers is a Nelly, and I absolutely refuse to address that new enlightenment…that Paris and Nicole are friends again after all. WHATEVER!
Thursday, September 21, 2006
So according to Splash News
Angelina and Brad dropped $400K on Banksy the other day after attending his art show last week, laying claim to several pieces including a bust with a bullet hole in the forehead and a sketch of what looks to be the Pitts themselves picnicing in the jungle being observed by tribesfolk.
Back in the real world, I arrived home on Sunday to an early birthday present: a beautiful painting in aggressive crimson accessorised dramatically by long stem red roses and a spotless apartment. Do you think Brad Pitt cleans the house? And do you think Brad Pitt plays video games? Because along with the art gift came a self gift…a brand new Xbox 360 to celebrate another season of the NY Jets sucking ass. His favourite team and Madden Football obsessively for 2 weeks, no conversation, no marriage quality time, until he finally comes up for air.
Angelina gets a man on a motorcyle, I get a man on a game console, and a free pass from having babies. I"m thinkin" I"m ahead…you?
In today"s issue: Britney cuts corners, Britney cuts fat, the philanthropic Pitts, the helpless Jessica Simpson, the raging Renee, speaking up for Gwynnie, pro-love for supermodel sag, and the Lilo infects the Cam.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Home now, back to regularly scheduled smut and subscriber emails and after almost two weeks of celebrity central, I can honestly say I wished for fame on only one occasion – and it had absolutely nothing to do with red carpets or parties or baubles or swag or chauffeured limos with hired entertainment eager to please.
Celebrity, you see, is only attractive during inconvenience, when you’re stuck in New York on a Friday evening because La Guardia, that sh*tty excuse for an airport and American Airlines, that sh*tty excuse for an airline, decide to ground your flight home but send your luggage to parts unknown, resulting in a 7 hour stay at the airport Crown Plaza Hotel with no underwear or contact solution or toothbrush or room service that doesn’t take over 2 f&cking hours!
And yet, even still, would you believe that even a celebrity on the Loser List, a former contestant on The Apprentice, a former contestant that did NOT WIN the Apprentice, is given star treatment during airport snafus?
So we were standing at the baggage carousel, hoping beyond hope that somehow our belongings had not been shipped away but would miraculously appear on the roundabout when Katrina Campins stalks up in 4 inch stilettos with skinny jeans (who flies in stilettos???), attended by not one but two airport staffers, and wouldn’t you know it, after a few minutes of pouting, one man shuffles off, leaving her with the other minion to moan at, and after a few minutes more of rummaging through her Louis Vuitton tote looking much too busy and much too important to be enduring this kind of injustice, the first lackey returns with her baggage, having located it on the runway with special arrangements to retrieve it for our VIP.
Of course she then she happily breezed away, tall and pretty (though remarkably small-chinned) into the night while the rest of us waited interminably for a conclusion you already know: our luggage never came, we slept that night in “I Love New York” tee-shirts purchased at the hotel gift shoppe, and finally arrived back in Toronto the next day, 15 hours late, 15 hours that could have been saved if only we’d somehow been willing to humiliate ourselves on reality tv.
Now THAT’s what I call the power of Celebrity.
In today’s short, sleep-deprived issue: baby names, hospitalisations, the spellbinding Pitts, Kate and the new jean, wrapping up TIFF, and clues clues clues.