She may be in rehab, but Lindsay Lohan continues making news like someone who never checked into treatment. The latest Lohan tidbit concerns the starlet's alleged text-message relationship with one Brody Jenner, reality star and all-around hunk (and ex-lover of such filthy sluts as Nicole Richie and Kristin Cavallari). According to US, Lohan has been texting Jenner for several weeks now, apparently trying to lure him into some manner of sexual relationship. One message in particular, sent after Lohan had checked into the Wonderland rehab facility, featured Lindsay pining wistfully for "McDonald's and sex." Jenner, when reached for comment, refused to say anything about the messages.
For those who may have been worried that rehab would mean the end of our little Lindsay - you can all rest easy now. Obviously, she hasn't changed a bit. Okay, so maybe her breath isn't as rank, and she doesn't sweat as much, and her hand-eye coordination has improved. But other than that she's still the same sex-crazed little monster we've come to know and love. When this rehab stint is over, Lindsay will be able to resume her previous life of indulgence, hopefully a little more discreetly than before. But not too discreetly. Because we still want to see the occasional picture and hear the occasional story. Of course, we understand that, realistically, Lindsay has no choice but to tone it down at least a little. She can't sustain her movie career if she doesn't put the brakes on. People aren't going to hire her if they think she's going to be disruptive. She'll have to choose between her lifestyle and her career, and in the end, I believe she'll choose her career. If not, well, at least we'll be able to enjoy the three or four months until her organs shut down completely.
In a move sure to shock and dismay most of the few remaining fans she has, Britney Spears has decided to become a Jew. All right, so maybe I'm kidding. Sort of. Actually, I'm not sure if I'm kidding or not. It all depends on what exactly was going through Britney's mind when she decided to dye her hair black and start wearing a Star-of-David around her neck. Either it was a coincidence - donning the traditional symbol of Judaism and changing her hair-color to the shade most associated with those from a Hebrew background - or else, well, Britney has become a Jew. At least in her own mind. Sort of like Madonna is English in her own mind, and Marilyn Manson is cool in his.
Of course, there's more to becoming a Jew than just dyeing your hair and throwing on some jewelry. There's some paper-work you have to fill out, I'm pretty sure, and then there's some kind of ceremony that may or may not involve drinking sheep's blood. And then of course you have to perform that most sacred of all Jewish rituals - going out for Chinese food. I wonder if Britney likes Kung Pao chicken?
Seriously though, it is interesting that Britney, embattled as she is, has suddenly decided to embrace at least partly the Jewish religion. Of course, we all assume this has something to do with her relationship with Isaac Cohen who, amazingly enough given that name, is himself Jewish (but obviously not serious about his show-biz career, otherwise he would've changed it to Ike Caan or Iggy Cooper or something like that). But I think there's more than just the desire to please her man behind this transformation. I think Britney is serious about seeking spiritual solace. I think she's had her eyes opened by her recent troubles, and is looking for something that will help give her strength in this turbulent time. And why not Judaism? It's as good as any other religion, and has the advantage of not being super-strict on a lot of things. Why, even that whole not-eating-pork stuff can be gotten around if you find the right variation to subscribe to. And, as an extra bonus for joining the club, Adam Sandler will likely feature you in one of his wacky satiric songs. Wow, Leonard Nimoy? And the Fonz? Gosh Adam. You sure are clever.
The Olsen Twins pose with old TV co-star Bob Saget at the premiere of his Farce of the Penguins movie. All right - so Ashley is turning into Courtney Love, and Mary-Kate has suddenly developed an obsessive interest in Amelia Earhart. And Bob Saget looks like a substitute teacher. But back to the twins. I'm sitting here trying to decide which of them creeps me out more. Ashley with her strung-out look, or Mary-Kate with those serial killer eyes. Jesus, these bitches are the poster children for why you shouldn't force your kids into show-biz. I'd suggest therapy for them but I don't think it would do anything. And what about poor Saget. What do you say to them at this point? "Gee girls, you're looking...really...clean..." He must be just mortified at what's become of them. Of course, neither he nor anyone else in the business has the nerve to stand up and say anything about it. They're all gutless.
And by the way, Bob - where are your hands in this shot? I think we know where they are. Sick freak.
Are the paparazzi beginning to ignore Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie in favor of fresh meat like Poshy Beckham? Paris and Nicole think so. Which is why they've begun resorting to desperate measures in the name of receiving the attention they apparently have a pathological need for. Some of their schemes are pretty pitiful too. Like the Mr. Chow ploy, as reported on by Janet Charlton.
See the picture above? It's Paris and Nicole exiting Mr. Chow, the popular Beverly Hills eatery and favorite stake-out spot for photographers hoping to grab a celebrity pic. Seems pretty normal. Thing is, according to Charlton, Hilton and Richie never actually ate inside the restaurant before this was taken. Sources say the two snuck into the place through the back door, walked through the restaurant, then sauntered out the front where the cameras were. How beautiful is that? And nitwits like this actually have the nerve to complain when photographers "violate their privacy." It just proves what I've always said - people like Hilton and Richie would die if people ever stopped taking their picture. Seriously. They would literally drop to the floor dead.
Which is why I think we need to petition the paparazzi to stop taking their picture.
Here's Sienna Miller at last night's party for Factory Girl. Do you think Sienna's figured out by now that no one cares about her stupid movie, and furthermore, no one cares about her? Probably not. And another thing she apparently hasn't figured out is that, when conversing with someone, it's normally not necessary to open one's mouth wide enough to swallow an entire watermelon whole. Do you know anyone who dislocates their mandible while chit-chatting? I don't. By the way, the girl Sienna's yapping at in the picture? If she didn't know what Sean Combs's cock smelled like before, she sure does now.
Michael Jackson, it's safe to say, is a man who needs a little balance in his life. I mean, when in the last forty-or-so years hasn't this guy's existence been one huge circus? Maybe for a day or two back when he was six? Otherwise it's been nothing but dancing bears and clowns on unicycles. And obviously, all that turmoil and craziness have taken their toll on Jackson's sanity.
All right, I'll say it - the guy's fucking batshit. Has been for years. And there's probably no going back for him either. Most likely, there will never come a day when Jackson suddenly emerges from some place, all normal-looking and behaving like any old average Joe. That line was crossed quite some time ago. Still, even a man as over-the-rainbow as Jackson can't be completely beyond hope. At some point, it ought to be possible to bring some semblance of order to the guy's existence. And, as a matter of fact, there is someone who thinks he knows how to bring this balance to Michael Jackson's life: his very own brother Jermaine.
It may come as a shock to you, but Jermaine Jackson is alive, and is apparently healthy. Or at least as healthy as any human being brought up by Joe Jackson possibly could be. And, Jermaine is ready to help his wayward bro Michael achieve the peace he himself has discovered in his life - by introducing Michael to Islam.
"Michael needs to become a Muslim," Jermaine told the BBC Asian Network. "I think it's a great protection for him from all the things that he's been attacked with, which are false. ... Michael has given conversion some serious thought."
Yes. I think Jermaine is right on the money. Michael definitely needs to convert to Islam as a means of shielding himself from all the attacks. Because that's what religion is really - a way of hiding from unpleasant things. Like reality, which we all know can be a bitch sometimes. The best thing for Michael would be to become sheltered from reality completely. Unlike before when he was living in his own amusement park, had llamas as pets and spent years molesting children without being prosecuted.
Jermaine, good brother that he is, also believes Michael would be better off staying out of America, and living some place like Bahrain. Because, according to Jermaine, "There's strength and protection in Bahrain. I wanted [Michael] to get out of America and just go somewhere it's peaceful and quiet and people pray five times a day which is beautiful."
Indeed, Jermaine. Praying five times a day is beautiful. In fact, if I were to convert to Islam, I think I would probably pray at least ten times a day. Because you can never pray too much. Especially when you're a very important person like Jermaine Jackson whom God (or Allah or whatever) is always happy to hear from. And, what Jermaine said about Bahrain - I totally agree with that as well. Michael would definitely be better off getting out of crazy America and living someplace quiet like the Middle East. Because nothing bad ever happens over there. It's just peace peace peace all the day long.
Wow, Michael is so lucky to have a brother like Jermaine looking out for him. And I'm sure that if Michael took up Islam, he would quickly achieve the balance he's looking for. Because Islam is all about balance. That's not a religion that fosters the slightest bit of craziness or fanaticism, or anything else that might throw Michael's equilibrium out of whack again.
Paris Hilton and her lawyers have officially launched their effort to shut down the website ParisExposed.com. Their suit, filed in federal court, alleges among other things that the infamous personal items removed from the infamous storage locker were placed in said locker after a burglary, and that it was the responsibility of the moving company to pay the fee that was infamously not paid. The suit also contends that the personal information included with the belongings could be used by "unscrupulous individuals ... to steal Hilton's identity, or worse, to stalk and even physically harm Hilton." Accompanying the lawsuit was a statement by Paris herself, which read in part, "I was appalled to learn that people are exploiting my and my sisters' (sic) private personal belongings for commercial gain."
So there you go - Paris is appalled. Because people are exploiting her belongings for commercial gain. And not cutting her in on it.
So cynical, Crabbie. Why can't you just believe that Paris is capable of feeling humiliated? And that she really is worried someone will use the information gleaned from those items to exploit or even harm her? Paris is only human, right?
Um, I'll get back to you on that one.
To be serious for a moment though - it really is terrible for Paris to be put in this position. I mean, obviously, Paris never meant for any of those videos to be viewed by the public. Those were for her own personal use. I'm not sure what she was planning on using them for exactly, but that's beside the point. It was up to her to decide whether anyone saw those videos. And because of that incompetent moving company, her private property has landed in the hands of those who care nothing for personal dignity. They are shameless, money-grubbing, attention-hungry people - unlike Paris, who cares only about keeping her good name from being dragged through the mud.
Oh, the delicious, delicious irony of Paris Hilton suing someone for making her look like a coke-sniffing brainless skank. You are priceless, Paris. Truly, truly priceless.
You may be surprised to learn this, but Crabbie has a romantic side. It's true. There's nothing he likes more than a long walk on the beach with someone he digs. Or a nice picnic in the grass. Or going for a bike-ride through the forest with the sun sparkling twixt the branches. Whiling away the hours with the lover of one's choice is what life is all about. Of course, when the lover of one's choice is a total junkie, that makes things a little different. Those walks on the beach aren't so fun when one of you can't manage a straight line. And the picnics lose their charm when your junkie man thinks the ants are under his skin. And forget about riding a bike. But, you love the guy, so you've got to find things you can do with him in spite of his condition. And after awhile just lying around the house becomes sort of a bore (plus the smell of piss gets so bad you can't stand it any more). You need to get out, and you need to get him out. And when your man is a total druggie there's only one place you can take him: Rehab. Where else are you going to go together? He can't keep his head up long enough to watch a movie, and eating isn't exactly high on either of your agendas, so dinner's out. No, rehab is the only romantic destination that matters for drug-monkeys and the people doomed to love them (unless they want to do the suicide pact thing and wind up at the bottom of a river together). Just ask Kate Moss and Pete Doherty - they know. Yesterday, the two wacky lovebirds checked into London's Capio Nightingale Hospital together, under assumed names. There, Pete will be able to get the help he so desperately needs, and Kate will be able to support him every second of the time. Doesn't it just make your heart go pitter-pat? Gosh, it'll be so much fun for them. Pete shitting and vomiting all over the place, and not being able to sleep, and kicking his legs compulsively, and Kate there holding his hand and he screaming at her that she's a bitch for doing this to him and he never loved her and she's nothing but a stinking whore. And then the begging. Just one more fix, baby. One more and I swear I'll never do it again. And then strapping old Pete to the bed so he doesn't injure himself. Ah, l'amour.
Hilary Duff apparently doesn't like the paparazzi following her around. Either that or she's a big fan of fudge and is admonishing the photographers to go eat some. Yummy yummy fudge.
A piece of advice for Hilary: It's okay to get angry at the paparazzi sometimes, just for appearances' sake, but you better be careful about antagonizing them too much. Because, let's be frank, without them you're nothing. Some people seem to know this, at least intuitively. Like Lindsay. Yeah, she gets in her little clashes with the photogs from time-to-time, but she knows to throw them a bone now and then too. The best thing to do most of the time is just ignore them. Or at least pretend to ignore them. Then you come off like it's all no big deal to you. If you're constantly screaming at them to leave you alone - well, your life's not going to be very pleasant, is it? Because they're never going to leave you alone. Ever.
Sienna Miller's critically-panned Factory Girl got its New York premiere last night. A big night for Sienna. Too big for just one outfit. For the premiere itself, Sienna went with the predictable '60s look. But that wasn't the story. No, the story was how Sienna chose to attire herself for the after-party:
So you think Sienna isn't a pathetic attention-junkie, huh? You think she doesn't need the cameras on her all the time? It was her big night, and obviously people weren't reacting to her enough. There were other famous people there and - gasp - everyone wasn't making a big enough deal about Sienna. So Sienna did what people like Sienna do - she changed into some outrageously goofy outfit. I mean, seriously, does this ensemble scream desperation or what? Please look at me. Please take my picture. Please make a big deal about me. I don't even care if you all think I'm retarded. As long as you know I'm here.
Nicolas Cage and Eva Mendes on the road in Madrid promoting Ghost Rider. Hey look, Nic Cage has Tom Hanks hair.
Hanks allegedly got this hair from taking Propecia. A lot of people found it distracting while watching The Da Vinci Code, but I was more bothered by the fact that the movie sucked ten kinds of ass. Being in movies that bite the big one - another thing Tom Hanks and Nicolas Cage have in common. The Weather Man? I'd rather watch The Weather Channel - for three weeks straight. And this Ghost Rider thing looks like yet another feather in Cage's cap-of-magnificent-suckage. Remember when that guy used to be a real actor? Now he's just a hopeless buffoon slogging through one uninspired project after another. If there were any mercy in the world, there'd be a place to put has-beens like Cage and Hanks where we wouldn't have to look at them anymore, and they could live out their remaining years doing something useful (like submitting to medical experiments).
Hilary Duff is 19 now, which means it's high-time she started shedding that wholesome teeny-bopper Lizzie McGuire image and got down-and-dirty. Hey, what's this? She's already started? Yes she has, according to reports from Hyde the other evening.
Hilary, in the company of her sister Haylie aka Seabiscuit, made quite a spectacle of herself at the nightspot, which has become widely associated with starlet antics thanks to Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan. According to witnesses, Hilary was already half in the bag when she and Haylie arrived at the club. After consuming even more alcohol, Hilary is said to have staggered into the women's bathroom with Haylie and a gay male companion. Said an onlooker:
“It was kind of inappropriate. She was pretty drunk and staggering around the bathroom, bumping into people and shrieking that her gay male friend had a vagina so it was okay for him to be there.”
Um, one thing Hilary. A gay man with a vagina isn't a gay man. It's Kathy Griffin.
Sources say that, after the somewhat amusing incident in the restroom (which would've been much more interesting had it ended with Hilary snorting coke off Kathy's Griffin's ass), Hilary and Haylie and their older dates spent the rest of the evening whooping it up in the VIP section, smooching and sitting on each other's laps and basically acting like pigs.
All I can say is - go Hilary. Get wild, babe. Cause we need you right now. There's a huge gaping void in the drunken skank universe now that Lindsay is getting dried out (snicker). Your time is now, Hilary. Seize the day. Grab that brass ring and run with it, and then wear it in your nipple or labia or wherever you crazy girls wear rings nowadays.
This is my assignment for you, Hilary. I want at least two stories in the next two months that feature you running into something with your car, not wearing any underwear when you go out, or having sex with Brandon Davis. Whichever two of those you prefer (but don't forget to wear a condom with Davis; you really, really don't want what he has). And then, when you're done, you can check into rehab for a couple weeks. Might I suggest Wonderland? They have a great program there. You don't even have to show up half the time. It's perfect for someone who wants to create the appearance of getting sober while still basically living the same lifestyle as always.
Hop to it now, hon. Make me proud.
Lindsay Lohan takes yet another break from rehab to shop, this time at Christian Dior in Beverly Hills. So they let her out to work on her movie, and to shop, and to make trips home. Essentially, the rehab center is a place where she sleeps. And they send someone around with her to make sure she doesn't sneak any sips. And how much are they paying for this? $1700-a-day or thereabouts? Christ, I would've flown out to Cali to watch Lindsay for half of that. We could've had sleepovers, and then in the day I would've followed her around, and tasted her beverages to make sure she wasn't spiking them. It would've been a blast going shopping with Lindsay, as long as she was paying of course. Actually, I think I may start my own service. Crabbie's Rehab. Lots of personal attention. Of course, I suppose if I'm around people who are trying to dry out, that means I can't drink. Or maybe it means I should drink more. Yeah, to show them what happens. An object lesson. You don't want to end up like this pathetic, fat, old queen do you? He can't even roll himself over. I think I may be on to something here.
The ParisExposed controversy may have gotten a little more interesting. According to The Rad Report, a "super credible source" has revealed that Paris Hilton herself owns the sex tapes that were allegedly acquired by David Hans Schmidt and then sold to Bardia Persa. The source is said to be uncertain as to the extent of Paris's involvement in the ParisExposed website, which is distributing the material for public consumption, but is sure that she is "financially involved."
So is the whole thing a scam cooked up by Paris, Schmidt and Persa? The "storage locker" story a nice advertising gimmick? I don't know. According to another story, Paris and Joe Francis's lawyers are filing a civil suit today, and are seeking a restraining order against ParisExposed. Now you tell me. Would you honestly go so far as to take legal action against an enterprise you secretly belonged to in order to hide your involvement in said entity? I'm no lawyer, but it seems to me that you could get in a lot of trouble for doing that (isn't it fraud or something?). On the surface, it seems that, if Paris does go ahead with legal action, then there's no way she could possibly be secretly involved in the site. Because the crux of the whole case, at least going by Joe Francis's earlier statements, is who owns the rights to the videos. Here's what Francis actually said:
"We want this thing down and we're seeking monetary damages ... They were taken for us only when we were dating. These guys have absolutely no right to use the images - they flat-out put them on the Web with no permission. He messed with the wrong person."
Is Francis talking about all the videos and pictures, or just the ones involving him? And let's say for argument's sake that Paris really does still own the rights to that stuff. Then Joe would really be suing her, wouldn't he? So maybe Joe just thinks like we all do - that Paris was shafted. Maybe Paris wasn't shafted and she just hasn't told Joe. What's going to happen when Joe finds out then? It doesn't seem likely that Francis would be in with cahoots with the others, then go around making statements like he did. You don't try a scam like this then sue yourself. You're just robbing Peter to pay Paul then. I don't know. It's all so confusing. Hopefully, this will all be clarified soon. Because I know I won't be able to sleep until...
Is Leonardo DiCaprio still a hot item now that he's not "cute meat?" Bar Rafaeli apparently doesn't think so. Because she's dumped him. According to a friend of the Israeli model, Bar finally got sick of Leo's demanding work and party schedule, and has brought an end to their 6-month relationship.
"Bar is a professional model so she has to be healthy and look great every day," said the friend, "so there is no way that she could keep up with that kind of decadent lifestyle. When they were apart she worried about what he was up to and in the end decided it would be easier and less painful just to say enough is enough."
Leo's decadent lifestyle? Now I'm intrigued. I want to know what manner of decadence Leo is engaging in. Lying sprawled on his back while olive-skinned boys feed him grapes? Watching lions maul Christians to death in the arena? What?
And what effect will this break-up have on Leo's activities? According to a friend, none at all:
"Leo was gutted when Bar told him it was over. But he is at the top of his game at the moment and there's no danger of his changing his ways any time soon."
At the top of his game. Did he mean acting-wise? Cause when it comes to sex, Leo is technically past being at the top of his game, since men reach their sexual peak at 18 (although their technique is not so hot yet). And, of course, we don't expect that being dumped by one model is going to cause Leo to reassess his lifestyle. There are lots of models out there, and they seem pretty interchangeable to me. I'm surprised Leo can even keep them straight anymore. I personally couldn't tell a Bar Rafaeli from a Petra Nemcova from an Alessandra Ambrosio. They all have the same dim expression on their faces, and the same scrawny ass and ankle tattoo. Leo should just hit a few runway shows. He can pick up three or four at once and take them all home, stick a few in the closet for later. Don't have to feed them much either. Just shove a tortilla under the door every couple of days and let them split it.
The SAG Awards were on last night, but I didn't watch them - I was too busy counting my pubic hairs. Anyway, there was the usual red carpet stuff on E!, Seacrest making everyone uncomfortable, and probably Matenopoulos and the rest of it. Then the actual awards, which were on TNT and TBS. What? When did TNT and TBS start showing awards shows? I thought all they had was re-runs of Law & Order? And speaking of Law & Order, here's Mariska Hargitay. Yes, that's the kind of night it was. No Angelina. No Brad. No Justin and Cameron. Mariska Hargitay.
Anne Hathaway. Whenever I see her, all I can think about is the scene in Brokeback with her and Jake in the truck. That was some acting by Jake, pretending to want to have sex with a woman.
Meadow Soprano gives a wave. Insert lame joke about someone getting whacked. Move on with life.
Where's a sniper when you need one?
Debi Mazar. Now that's when you know your awards show is pretty lame. But it's not really, really lame until either Kathy Griffin or Andy Dick show up. And if both of them show up, then you might just as well clear out the whole place. And don't forget to disinfect.
I can't remember why I used to not like Eva Longoria. Now I think she's kind of cool, in a lucky-not-to-be-a-Tijuana-hooker way.
Cate Blanchett and her long neck. Must be such a chore being Cate this time of year, always nominated for a gazillion awards. Why don't you try sucking for awhile, Cate, then you won't have to spend three months shuttling from one stupid red carpet to the next? It's not easy learning how not to act though. Unless you call up Madonna and get some lessons.
(BTW, Cate has really beautiful eyes, doesn't she?)
Hey look, it's Camilla Parker-Bowles. Oh no, wait. It's Helen Hunt. Damn.
Teri Hatcher. Please tell me it's the camera angle. Oh boy.
Katherine Heigl, radiant as always. And still probably really pissed at Isaiah Washington.
The diminutive Reese Witherspoon. Has Reese settled on a man yet since chucking Ryan? She was messing around with Jakey-poo there for awhile, but I haven't heard anything lately. Maybe she's gone over to the other side. I think she'd make a great angry lesbian, don't you? She just needs to get a buzz-cut and work out a little. Stop dressing so girlie. Maybe get a lipring.
Maybe Paris Hilton has a sense of shame after all. Or maybe she's just mad that she isn't able to share in the profit being made off her name and skankitude. Whatever the case, Paris is pursuing legal action against the operator of ParisExposed.com, a website currently displaying a collection of personal items, including naughty pictures and videos, seized from a storage locker she neglected to pay the fee on. And Paris isn't alone in her outrage either. Joe Francis, the man responsible for Girls Gone Wild, is joining Paris in seeking a restraining order against ParisExposed owner Bardia Persa. Francis, who dated Paris for a time, appears in some of the videos, which feature Paris making like one of the skanks Francis regularly features in his Girls Gone Wild presentations.
"We're pissed and I feel for Paris right now," Francis told the New York Post. "She's been victimized yet again."
Oh, so that's what this is all about. Paris's victimization. You're a great friend to her Joe, being pissed on her behalf and all.
But wait, what was that other thing you said to the New York Post?
"We want this thing down and we're seeking monetary damages ... They were taken for us only when we were dating. ... These guys have absolutely no right to use the images - they flat-out put them on the Web with no permission. He messed with the wrong person."
Monetary damages. For what? The blow to your reputation, Joe? Because you've been such an upstanding citizen. You never did anything like, say, use underaged girls in your idiotic videos. No, you deserve damages, Joe. You and Paris both. Because this is going to severely cripple your ability to sell more smut. And her whole life has clearly been ruined by all this negative publicity. Why, before these videos surfaced, Paris was regarded as the most wholesome young woman on earth. And now look at her. Exposed as a harlot before the eyes of the world. Doomed forever to wear the scarlet letter upon her chest.
Joe Francis needs to die. Painfully. Or at the very least he needs to have his vocal cords torn out. "He messed with the wrong person." What an arrogant, slimeball thing to say. I'm Joe Francis and you can't mess with me. Why? Because you film drunken 19-year-old sluts lifting their shirts? You think that makes you something special? You're an asshole. The only reason you make a living is because we live in a culture where all the standards have been flushed down the toilet. And please, quit the fake indignation. You're pissed and you feel for Paris. Give me a break. I doubt you're capable of feeling anything for another human being. No, the only emotion you're really able to experience is the elation of gypping another bunch of dipshit frat-boys out of the money they earn selling pot. Go sit down and shut up.
And as for Paris - I'm sorry honey, but you deserve this. You're a grade-A twit in the first place, who if she didn't have people to take care of things for her would probably wind up in the fetal position, covered in her own filth and crying for her mother. And those people let you down didn't they? Whoever was supposed to pay for the storage locker didn't do it. Lesson Paris - take care of your own shit. Don't lay around on your lazy, pothead ass all day expecting other people to handle your business. Handle it yourself, you stupid bitch. And please, in the name of god, stop pretending to be embarrassed when things like this happen. We know you're not capable of experiencing embarrassment. Because all you care about is attention. You don't care what form it takes. It could be derision, ridicule or outright scorn - as long as they're pointing cameras at you, you're happy. You pathetic droopy-eyed freak.
Hilton and Francis are so transparent. All they want out of this is money. They both know perfectly well that this whole thing isn't going to damage them one little bit. They're just cheesed they didn't think to release the stuff first.
Claire Danes takes her dog out for a walk. I wonder what Claire thinks of her old co-star Jared Leto and his recent antics. Actually, I take that back. I don't wonder. Cause I don't care. Not about Claire Danes. She is totally boring. And she looks like the Michelin man fell into a vat of tar. And her hat looks like something you'd stick on top of a retard before sending him out to catch the shortbus. And, you'll notice, the dog isn't even in the shot. Because it doesn't want to be seen with her. It's embarrassed to be Claire Danes's dog.
Hilary and Haylie Duff stroll the streets. Look out behind that lightpost, Hilary! It's another stalker!
Oh wait, it's only some creepy homeless guy. No wait, it's not. It's Keanu. And his face is smeared with shit.
But back to Hilary and Haylie. Uh...nice scarf on Hilary. Nice Chanel bag too. And Haylie - why are you famous again? Oh right, you're Hilary's sister.
Katie Holmes hitched her wagon to a star when she married Tom Cruise - a star that had already reached the peak of its arc and was headed for the puke-inducing free-fall. But Katie didn't realize that at the time, because she was so blinded by love (or whatever Tom had slipped her). As far as she was concerned, she was moving on to bigger and better things with Tom's help. Now the sad reality must be sinking in - Tom's not the connected Hollywood big-shot he used to be but a man who's well on his way to being a pariah. Not that any of that's Katie's fault. She's still what she always was - a fairly attractive, mildly talented, somewhat bland starlet perfect for playing the girlfriends of superheroes. But, when you're casting that sort of thing, baggage is the last thing you need, and Katie, she's got lots of baggage, and it's all named Tom.
"Studios may be gun-shy of her new status as a tabloid fixture," a Hollywood insider tells the Wall Street Journal. "And her expectations may be raised as the new Mrs. Cruise. Stars of much bigger stature, including Meg Ryan and Demi Moore, have found it tough to regain their momentum after taking time off."
Poor Katie, being compared to Meg Ryan and Demi Moore. She might as well just quit now. Maybe call up her buddy Poshy and ask for a job sewing dresses.
ParisExposed has hit the web with all the force of a nuclear bomb. All right, a really big regular bomb. Okay, a little bomb. A grenade. A firecracker? A really strong bean-fart. All right, so it's all a little anti-climactic. A whole cache of never-before-seen Paris Hilton stuff that reminds us a lot of the already-seen-before Paris stuff. But hey, they've got entries from her diary! The musings of Paris Hilton. It's like reading the lost journals of Anais Nin. The ones she wrote after suffering a massive head-trauma.
Actually, no one really cares about Paris's diary or her medical records or any of the rest of that stuff. I mean, what can we really learn from them? Paris is a dumb-ass? You don't say. And, oh my God, Paris has herpes. Yawn. No, clearly, all us voyeuristic creeps want to see are the videos. The ones where Paris cavorts around naked, rolls in the sack with handsome hunks, and generally makes an idiotic spectacle of herself. And the videos do not disappoint. They are everything Crabbie expected them to be - amateur-porny and incredibly uncomfortable. And full of Paris doing the only thing in the world she really seems to care about - posing in front of the camera.
It becomes obvious within a few minutes that Paris is a pure exhibitionist. She just can't stop looking into the camera, flirting with it, smiling. I'm guessing that, when Paris was a child, someone must have filmed her a lot. In fact, I'd be willing to bet that, when there isn't a camera around, Paris actually feels a bit lost. She doesn't know what to do with herself when that little magic eye isn't staring at her. Which is why she feels compelled to film everything. Her little bedroom romps with men like the above. What, is she trying to preserve the moment for posterity? Hell no. She just wants the camera on her, so she can show-off in front of it like she's been doing practically since birth.
Come on Paris - share, will ya? Jeez.
She really does have a nice body, doesn't she? And him - don't even get me started on him.
Of course, Paris isn't only about sex. She has a comic side too.
The smoking a tampon bit. Hilarious! Paris, you are a card.
And of course, Paris has other facets to her as well. She's doesn't have to be sexing or yukking it up all the time. No, there's an artistic side to Paris. She's an actress - and a serious one at that. Thanks to ParisExposed, we get the rare privilege of seeing a true genius at work:
Trust me, this is not a still from Paris's video-blog - this is her practicing her lines from a movie. She seems to be playing a college student. At one point she talks about her French Lit professor going into a diabetic coma. And she demonstrates her vast expressive talent in moments like this:
No one makes that face like Paris.
So, we've seen Paris the sex-machine, Paris the artiste. But where's Paris taking a bath?
See? She does bathe. And you didn't believe it.
Oh, and she showers too.
Yup, Paris can't even take a shower without some jag-off filming her. And this guy's a master cinematographer too. Never misses the money shot:
That Paris - she is all about subtlety. And class. And letting us see her goods just for the hell of it.
Mary-Kate Olsen always looks skinny as a rail. But, as we know, celebrities don't suffer from eating disorders. Nicole Richie doesn't have one, and neither does Keira Knightley. In fact, when you suggest to these people that they have eating disorders, they get indignant, and sometimes they even sue you. Ooh, Crabbie doesn't want to get sued. So he believes everything. Yup. Nichole Richie, she's just small-boned. And Keira Knightley? Bad lighting. And what about Mary-Kate Olsen, who looks like she hasn't eaten anything in three years? It isn't her, it's the hair. At least that's what her publicist says.
It's the miracle of our age! Mary-Kate Olsen's magic weight-reducing hair! Forget about selling crappy cosmetics and perfume. Mary-Kate's sitting on a real gold-mine (or, actually, the gold-mine is sitting on her).
Say, I wonder what Mary-Kate's magic locks would do for some of our favorite weight-challenged stars. Like Rosie O'Donnell:
Wow, she looks ten pounds lighter already.
And what about another famous fat fucker, John Travolta?
Travolta hasn't looked so good since Saturday Night Fever. Shake that tail, John.
So, we know Mary-Kate's hair does a great job slimming fat stars, but what does it do about adding bulk to skinny ones? Like Nicole Richie?
Um, Nicole. It goes on the top of your head. Oh well. You still look better than usual.
Of course, being fat isn't the only problem some celebs have. A few of them have multiple issues. Like being fat and stupid. I wonder what Mary-Kate's hair does for them...
I guess even Mary-Kate's hair has its limits.
George Clooney is a certifiable Hollywood hunk. No doubt about it. A stud-muffin. A gorgeous, sexy man who makes Crabbie not able to control his salivary glands. And this being the case, certainly, George can have his pick of Hollywood hotties. When George walks into a room full of beautiful women, he should treat that room as one big buffet. Hmm, I'm feeling like a little chesty brunette with a side of svelte red-head tonight. Anything you want George. Just fill up your plate, and when you're done come back for seconds.
And yet, despite all the tasty cuisine at George's disposal, the guy still insists on occasionally grabbing himself a big handful of slimy muck and shoving it in his mouth. Okay, Crabbie, who are you calling a big handful of slimy muck? Uh...Pamela Anderson? We don't consider her gourmet fare do we? No. More like something you scraped from the bottom of a river. You know, the sort of thing you don't try eating until all the other food on earth has been consumed, and all the bugs, and the grass, and the cow poop, and the nice clean dirt, and the somewhat icky dirt. Pamela Anderson. Dear God, why is George Clooney going around with her?
No, it's not some strange feverish concoction of Crabbie's mind - it's real. According to witnesses, George wined-and-dined Pam at the Valley Inn in Sherman Oaks. The date went so well that Pamela wound up sitting on George's lap by the end of it (classy move in the middle of a restaurant), and since then the two have been sharing walks and, presumably, bodily fluids.
Ugh. You would've thought all those years of playing a doctor would've made George more sensitive to the dangers of venereal disease. Doesn't he have any regard for his health? And what about the rest of us? Now we have to imagine George Clooney and Pam Anderson together. That's just not right.
Seriously, this story is disturbing to me. George Clooney doing it with Pam Anderson. Of all the women in the world, he picks that oozing sore. What does he see in her? The opportunity to become King Stud of the World in the eyes of slobbering frat-boys? Woah, that George Clooney, he's awesome man. He's nailing Pam Anderson. Yeah, Pam. She's so like hot. Hey Billy, pass me the beer bong...
That's what it is, isn't it? That stupid heterosexual male competitiveness. In fact, George doesn't find Pam sexually attractive at all. But he thinks other men find her attractive, and his dopey-ass king of the hill instinct is telling him to bang her. I banged the woman every other man wants, so I win. But is it worth it George? Really? Just to be envied by a bunch of dirtbags? Is it worth having your dick turn green and fall off? I don't think so. But, it's your dick. You can do whatever you want with it.
Update: Mr. George Clooney is denying he ever had a date with Pamela Anderson. "I worked with Pam seven years ago and haven't seen her since," the actor said in a statement. "And I've never been to that restaurant."
Obviously, Clooney never went out with Anderson. And the speed of his denial demonstrates how revolted he is at the mere idea.
Thank goodness. I can sleep now.
Here's Paris Hilton leaving Mr. Chow last night. Been an interesting couple of days for Paris. First there was the revelation that she and Lindsay were getting drunk and making out Xenii, leading directly to Lindsay's ending up in rehab. Then of course there was the debut of ParisExposed.com. I wonder at one point Paris will just get sick of the whole thing and retreat to a life of seclusion? We couldn't be that lucky, could we?
By the way, what the hell is Paris wearing around her head in that picture? And is it just me or is she starting to get a little f-a-t? Must be all the stress. It's hard work being Paris.
Sienna Miller dolls herself up for the premiere of Factory Girl. Seems like sort of a waste of time now, doesn't it Sienna? I mean, they got the movie out on the 29th of December in L.A. so it would qualify for the Oscars, and basically no one gave a shit. Not a single person handicapping the Oscar race even mentioned your name, and after the nominees were announced, not a single person voiced their outrage at the fact you'd been snubbed. Maybe it's because the movie is a piece of crap that was still being re-shot almost up until the minute it was put out. Jeez, what happened? A couple months ago people were crapping their pants saying, "Sienna Miller's awesome as Edie Sedgwick. She's going to get an Oscar." But that sort of went poof didn't it? Let's face it Sienna, there are only two reasons you're famous: your body and Jude Law. And Jude's gone. So that leaves one thing. And, let's face it, that's going to start to go pretty soon. Saggy boobs. Exploding hips. Expanding ass. Desperate trips to the plastic surgeon. All in vain, Sienna. All in vain.
(But hey, look on the bright side - at least you're not a druggie wash-out who went into a tailspin over Bob Dylan.)
Hillary Clinton is going to be president of the United States. You can go to Vegas right now and lay down your cash on it. Don't even hesitate. She's got it sewn up.
Pretty confident there, aren't you Crabbie? What, do you have some kind of crystal ball or something? Some power that allows you to see into the future?
Huh. Power to see into the future? What do I need that for? I've got something even better. Yes sir. Something that guarantees beyond a doubt that Hillary will capture the presidency in 2008. I've got Liz Taylor. That's right, old, fat, heinous Liz. She's endorsed Hillary, and that's all the guarantee I need. I don't even have to follow the damn campaign anymore (Barack Obama? Give me a break.). And on election night when Hillary goes up against John McCain, I'll be able to go to bed early, cause I'll already know who won. Yup. Cause you know what they say - As Liz Taylor's endorsement goes, so goes the country.
Or maybe that's, "As Liz Taylor's bowels go, so goes the country." I forget.