Conversations about Famous People: 02/01/2005

Monday, February 28

Implants, 2005

Traci likes to touch hers. Lisa likes to show hers off. And Pam doesn't bother to cover hers up. Let's take a moment and study the implants of Oscars 2005. Underwire bra, anyone?

"Whose boobs are bigger?"

"Mine!"

"No, mine!"

"No Paris, mine are! Don't you wish you had your sidekick so we could take naked pictures of each other? Or if Tinkerbell was here, he could take photos for us!"

"Like, totally. Darn that Fred Durst leaking all the information out of my cell phone! He's such a pig! And not even good in bed. Back to me. Look at my chest! Look at my dress, I'm hot! Nicky, aren't I totally hot? You're hot. Arent we like, so freakin' hot? Hotter than that Nicole Richie! Hotter than Tara Weed. Hotter than Britney Federspears who also slept with Fred Durst! Ewww. "

Dear Diary -

Just got home from Oscar party. I looked so hot. Nicky said I was better looking than anyone else there. Of course. Like, duh! Spent the night in the bathroom with some guy. Then another guy. Didnt get names. Wish I had my sidekick. Fred Durst keeps paging me. Nick Carter called my pink sequined cell phone and Luke W. left ten messages- booty call? Looked at self in mirror and thought about new extensions. Called Ashlee S. to get more b. Saw Jess in bathroom with powder on nose. Told her she looked good (liar!). Saw Nick with Bai Ling- hiding under her dress. Gave phone number to Jamie Foxx.

Made out w/ Selma B. Touched Scarlett J.s boobs. Shared drink w/ Jared Leto and kissed Dennis Hopper (old! yuck!). Put hand down Orlando B. pants. Danced with Ethan Hawke (bad breath! ew!). Made fun of Mischa Bartons dress (so ugly!)

Looked in mirror. Applied lip gloss at 10, 11:14 and 2:34. Gave blotting papers to Renee Z. Drank champagne- poor quality. Ate half salmon puff. Vomited in toilet and ate caviar on toast. Drank more. Passed out on John Stamos' lap. Wish I had sidekick. Woke up and looked in mirror. Still hot.

Sno cones and shaved ice here!

While everyone else partied the night away, Bai Ling made good use of her yellow striped awning empire waist gown from which she sold frozen treats just off the red carpet. She created her own ice cream stand, selling chipwiches and popsicles to the hungry and thirty A listers.
(Evian bottles went for $6 a bottle, sold out of her Kooba bag, not pictured)

When you wear a voluminous dress in banana yellow stripes, it really encourages hunger pangs and a hankering for a sweet treat (unless you have doused yourself with Jessica Simpsons cake mix body lotion, in which case you can just lick your arms). That Bai Ling is so crafty! I just wish she had stocked more of the ice cream sandwiches. Clive Owen confided that he bought four icees and ate them all before he reached the entrance into the theater.

Renee can't breathe, her corset is too tight!

Dammit, that Selma Hayek kept stepping on Renee's gown all night, or so she thought. Really, it was Kate Winslet.

I wanted to know how Renee walked in that super tight dress. When I called her cell phone to ask, she told me she kept her thighs pressed tightly together all night creating a friction that made her sweat in her Kodak theater chair. When she sat down, she needed to unzip the back in order to breathe. She admitted to being nervous Adam Duritz was trying to unzip it further. Renee whispered that she was very uncomfortable and she should have gone with a loose fitting vintage Chanel.

We all must suffer for beauty. Thanks for being our champion, Renee! Now about that hair and the sour puckered lips...

I want my bed linens back, Gisele!

Gisele, do you happen to have a little bunchen in your oven? Or did Jennifer Aniston loan you her dress from last years awards show? I know how painful it can be to have it hanging in your closet with, well, you know. Seriously Gisele, That white empire waist gown looks a little familiar.

I wasn't aware of the toga party after the Oscars? But then again, Marty always likes throwing a themed party. You should have seen the Hawaiian night at the Mondrian last year. I'm looking forward to seeing Leo wearing a crown of grape leaves on his head and a white sheet twisted into a gown. You won't have to change, looks like you're already in costume.

Swanky!

Hilary Swank- that navy blue dress made from a thin layer of rubber shows off the bulging water balloons you have! Consider yourself lucky that Annette Benning didn't happen to have safety pin, just waiting for you to brush up against her in the ladies room. When you turned around- whoa! Please tell me how you toned your ass crack? We all want to know.

Reporting Live from the Feeding Trough

I couldn't wait to sit down with my glass of Cristal and watch the Oscar preshow. I've always enjoyed watching the celebs arrive on this momentous night. As I cozied up to my oversize chenille pillows and flipped on the television, I was confused- was this a sign of the Apocolypse?

A strange animal with bulging cow eyes trampled awkwardly on the red carpet. And then, only after I gulped another glassful of champagne and took a handful of my Valium, was I able to calm down enough to realize that it was Star Jones "reporting" live from Hollywood. She was thrusting her crystal studded mike into the faces of the people trying to make their way into the theater, trying to come up with witty banter and falling flatter than her husbands limp penis. I did not appreciate her gigantic wig, sprayed into submission, the "I'm a queen" tiara or the huge pearl-gold-silver earrings and necklace that dripped into the canyon of her cleavage. And please tell me why she kept showing off her hooves? (see photo) We do not want to see your ankle or your toenails.

The back view of her dress afforded us an unobstructed peek at her back fat, hanging over the fabric of her dress. And why does she drag her "husband" around with her like an accessory? Is she worried he's going to hunt down Alan Cummings and take off, leaving her in the dust of his quick exit? Because, you know, that could happen.

I truly believe there is someone better suited to host the preshow (me). A peek into her hotel after the red carpet duty is over reveals Star taking off her wig, tossing it on a chair and kicking off her shoes, thrusting her swollen feet into Al's lap where she commands him to rub them. Yelling into the phone, she orders room service and barks like a rabid dog when it's not brought up within ten minutes. She makes Al dial her cell phone so she can bitch at Barb Walters about flying commercial versus the ABC jet reserved for Meredith Viera. Then her head spins around and a black cloud envelopes her, leaving poor Al quaking and trembling then eventually seeking comfort in the arms of Elton John.

Sunday, February 27

Kate Bosworth: I'm so hungry

She goes to bed hungry every night, stomach rumbling for a nice big peanut butter sandwich. Kate Bosworth is veering into Mary Kateland. Look at her skinny arms and bony back. Scary!

Maybe she would like a sandwich with extra mayo and cheese, loaded with ham and bacon, on an all white roll and a large protein shake to wash it down with. I get frightened when I see actresses whittle themselves down to skeletal proportions. Kate seriously needs about fifteen pounds on her thin frame. There is nothing pretty about viewing another womans bony framework. I'm all about soft skin and curves and being strong and fit. Not a brittle bag of bones like an osteoporosis- ridden ninety year old.

Kate, you are totally cute even though you acted as Orlando Bloom's beard. I loved you in Blue Crush. But for the love of all that is good in Hollywood, please get yourself over to the all you can eat pasta bar at Olive Garden and take a doggie bag of breadsticks home. We love you. Now go eat!

She has "the flu" - she's pregnant!

Just wanted to pop in for a minute and let you know I just received confirmation that yes, Jen and Marc are expecting a bambino! I found this out while getting my toenails buffed and oiled and painted with a rare paint culled from the blooming flowers of Brazil.

My assistant was lovingly applying diamond chips to my nails when I heard the news. I almost choked on my caviar! I wonder how Ben is taking the news? He seems to be spending most of his time grocery shopping with Jen Garner. I better hightail it over to his home and comfort him in my loving arms.

I just can't wait until Britney announces she is with child. A little Cletus fetus. yipppee! Babies for every pop star!

Saturday, February 26

Bedsheets revisited

I think it's really sweet that Kirsten Dunst gave her white, shapeless, oversized baby doll dress to Ashley Olson. After all the stress Ashley is under, what with her twin sisters uh.."eating disorder" (thats what we in the biz call a drug problem, sort of like when someone has a drinking problem, it suddenly becomes that person is "taking time off") she needed a little pick me up in the form of a second hand garment still reeking of Jake Gyllenhall and cigarettes.

A new dress always makes me feel good no matter how low I have been sinking. A new pair of shoes really makes me happy. A new dress that is an amorphous Laura Ashley nightgown from 1989 makes me feel the opposite of happy - rather shlumpy, but that's just me.

While Kirsten has paired her nightie cum dress with a black Gap turtleneck, Ash has put a gray tee shirt under hers and added a toothpaste green bag and black boots. Gives a whole new look to the dress, doesn't it? Well, no.

The outfit reminds me of an unmade bed; sloppy yet comfortable. A spritz of Paris Hilton's perfume and you've got the dirty bedsheet scent to go along with the white sheet dress. So cuuuute!

Glamazon, get your party on

I can't help myself. Sometimes I eat too many carbs and if I don't have a fleet emena handy, I can just find a photo of Star "married to a gay man" Jones and my white flour products make a quick exit through my colon and I feel instantly lighter. Nauseas, but lighter.

I thought I would show you my latest stomach twisting photo. What is more gross than Star sharing a cigar with...well, herself, naked in a tub of fart bubbles? Are you wishing the candle would ignite her wig and melt her eyeballs thus rendering her unable to claw her way to the red carpet? Oh! Oh! You are so mean!

Shhhhh. Got a secret!

Shhhh. Come here. I have a secret. Don't tell my husband Rick. Oh wait, his name is Nick, right. I was just doing blow with Paris in the bathroom, do I have white around my what are those things called? oh, nostrils. Shhhhh! Come on, don't tell anyone, 'kay? My daddy would kill me! Seriously.

But Dick..oh, what? Yeah. Nick was doing hemmoroids- no wait- astroids- no- steroids! so he's got his own stuff to worry about. I'm just gonna ignore this and hope that no one finds out. Did you see those messages on that Paris Hilton sidekick? Did you read the part about me trying to date Justin Timberlake? I should have married him instead of Nick. I got my boy bands mixed up and didn't remember who I was dating. For a minute I thought I was with some guy from O-Town. But then daddy told me it was Nick, oh yeah!

Have you tried my newest dusting powder? It's called Candy Corn Blow. I don't know what it means but Paris said it would sell well. She said she is all about servicing the customer, whatever that means.

Boobie Hills, 90210

When I first landed in Los Angeles, I arrived to work as an extra on the set of Beverly Hills 90210. I pulled up in my 1975 lime green Gremlin which was coughing black smoke out of the tailpipe.

Tori Spelling stood with Jennie Garth, pointing and laughing at me, even though clearly I was very cool with my Warrant cassette tape blasting "Cherry Pie" of my radio and I wore a plastic comb in the back pocket of my Sassoon jeans. I never forgot how wicked Tori was to me, giggling and waving one hundred dollar bills in my face.

So, when I was in Mexico several years ago, I happened to drop by a plastic surgeons office to pick up some contraband Retin A and noticed Tori was about to go in for a breast augmentation. Paying the nurse twenty American dollars, a pair of Levi jeans and a bottle of Jean Nate, she agreed to have the dr. insert a zip lock bag full of red jello into Tori's chest.

Don't pass this around. Shhhhhh. It's a big secret and I wouldn't want my cover blown. But look at her chest. What else could it be besides baggies full of gelatin done by a surgeon who received his license from the Domincan Republic and was blind in one eye using a spork and a potato peeler to perform surgery?

Friday, February 25

The stench of Paris lingers on Nick...

Nick Carter, formerly of the Backstreet Boys or is that band still together? I can always pick Nick out of the crowd because he was the least coordinated B. Boy. Thumping around like a gorilla. Anyhoo, poor Nick! He was seriously disgruntled. Let me tell you what happened...

I was leaving my pilates-yoga-gymnastics-trapeze class yesterday evening and I literally bumped into him. He pretended he didn't remember me- or that night in Orlando- but I pressed on until he finally said he thought he might have known me from somewhere (I believe he was playing dumb,, how could he miss me? I've been in four magazines this year! Duh! He was never the smartest one of the bunch). Discontent was written all over his scowling face, so I asked him, "What's up, funny face?"

Collapsing on the curb, he explained to me when the contents of Paris Hilton's crystal and rhinestone studded sidekick were put out on display for all the world to see- along with a coupon for a free One Night in Paris video and fifty percent off her perfume, (that girl knows how to market!) he was saddened to learn not only was his phone number NOT included in her address book, but the many messages the two shared were suspiciously missing.

"Erased!" he scoffed. "That damn Fred Durst. Limp Bizkit my assfizzle!" I lay a hand on his arm and pleaded with him to just step away from the Mad Dog and this is a new chance to start over and blah blah. With tears shining in his eyes, he nodded as I told him he should pursue Tara "I'm smart! really!" Reid. She 's a good rebound girl.

When I walked away with my yoga mat tucked under my arm and my special Kabbalah energy beverage clutched in my manicured hand, he said, "DJ, I hear Orlando Bloom is available...do you think you could -?"

Errr....uh...NO. But I think Ricky Martin might be waiting for your call.

Thursday, February 24

this Blossom has faded

Remember the "hit show", (I use the term in the loosest sense) Blossom? I present to you little Blossom, now all grown up. Mayim is suffering from pre-geriatric disease. She believes she has been residing at an assisted living facility on Long Island where bingo is on Sunday nights and canasta is played on Tuesdays. Tapioca pudding is Fridays after the viewing of a Steve Guttenburg movie. Mayim? How shall I put this...you're not eighty. Or even seventy..fifty..I dont even think you have hit thirty yet.

There is no reason why you are dressed like my grandmother on her way out to a viewing at the funeral parlor. Why dont you get over to Forever 21 and buy some cute pants and a sequined top? Or if you want to be conservative, there's always Banana Republic.

No need to shop at the Misses department in Montgomery Ward. And no need to wear brick red lipstick and walk around with untweezed brows when that nice little nest egg from Blossom can afford you new clothes and a trip to the waxer.

Kirstie's Valley

After spending too much time in Tom Cruise's Scientology Dianetics bus, Kirstie Alley emerged confused about her bra size. Still reeling from the hot wax brow shaping and the vanilla sky electropsychometer shock therapy, not to mention the thetan anal audit, Kirstie was certain she needed an A cup and proceeded to buy a bra which has internal scaffolding and lifts, separates and expands her already juggy breasts.

She showed up at the Fat Actress function not sure why people were staring and why John Travolta asked if he could take lay his head on her pillows for a quick nap.

Lord of the 'stache

When I first viewed this photo, I thought, Wow that guy looks just like a greasyViggo Mortenson after he spent a night sharing a park bench and a jigger of whiskey with Ethan Hawke. And then I read the caption and low and behold, it really is Viggo.

Vigster- what happened? Do you need a cute little thing to wear a nurses costume and administer some first aid? A shave? haircut? You tell me what you need, precious, and Distressed will take care of you. There, there. Don't look so glum.

Appearing to have lost weight and wearing a second hand suit from PeeWee Herman (minus the stains), he reminds me of Daniel Day Lewis' long lost cousin. He is going this look:"I'm an artiste and do not have to bathe in order to prove my talent."

He is known to be a poet, a photographer and a writer, as well as a craftsman and designer. If he is willing to shave off the wild west mustache, I'm willing to act as his muse. *wink wink*

WARNING: Star watch 2005

Oh boy, I just can't wait for the E! Oscar pre-show with Star. I see she has a mark on her shirt for the sniper already.

I recall only a few months ago when I was lunching at The Ivy when who should come strutting in, demanding the bathroom be cleared and a new issue of Ebony be produced and purple candles be lit for her own tour of the toilet, but Miss Star Jones herself.

As I waited in line for use of the facilities, I was told to sit down because Star was coming through and she should not have to wait. Then I watched in awe as she insisted on three tables be pushed together when it was only she and her assistant eating. Husband Al waited curbside, watching Star shovel in her lunch.

Ms. Jones (wearing a tight white tracksuit and heels) was waving her long talons around, ordering the waiters like she was some kind of royalty. I sat there with my own assistant, mouth agape as I watched her. Finally I approached her table and she turned to me, probably expecting me to ask for an autograph (HA!) and I said, "Excuse me, aren't you Della Reese?" The look on her face was priceless.

Will work for latest Green Day cd

Shane West is all, "Yeah? So what. I was just shoveling snow and decided to drive my Ford F150 over to this fashion show. What's the problemo?"

Well, Shane. The problem is this: When you show up at an event such as a fashion show in Los Angeles, the dress code isn't the winter parka with the fur trimmed hood from Ski Chalet you bought off the 50% off rack three years ago. It is not a gray Champion tee shirt from your afternoon of basketball and it certainly doesn't include baggy track pants and scuffy boots.

Dude, wipe that smirk off your face! Get over to Saks and spend some of that cash you earned playing a punk doctor on ER, buy a decent outfit, preferably preceeded by a shower and a shave.

Careful, she just drank her prune juice

Who is that little old lady getting out of the SUV? Look at the ear flaps on the furry babushka! The scarf and matching ruby slippers! The belted jacket! I love to see old ladies looking so cute. Awww, is someone driving Miss Daisy?

Oops- that is none other than Madonna, holding her purse like a very prim and proper middle aged British mother with her legs clamped together. This cannot be the same person who wore a pointy nippled bra with fishnet hose and dated Dennis Rodman.

Alas, but it is! That Kabbalah energy drink must not work so well. I have my own bottled beverage, its called Aqua de limon. Comes with a blue string to wear around your ankle. Keeps me energetic and positive. Who needs Kabbalah when you have DistressedJeans?

Don't you just love the way it's so trendy, so all the rage to carry around a tiny tea-cup dog in your LV bag and dress him/her in itty bitty Prada fashions and cover them in diamonds? I know Anna Wintour, my own dog, just loves getting groomed to hit to town with me. You should see her decked out in her mini Juicy Couture sweats and ribbons around her tail. Not to mention her OPI painted toe-nails.

But please- someone!- send a memo to Rhona Mitra. (who got her big break on Party of Five playing Bailey's girlfriend, remember?) Rhona is about to give herself a hernia and a slipped disc carrying around that tubby little pig. It just defeats the purpose of being chic and cute when you are hoisting a big, angry animal on your hip.

To be carried in a DESIGNER BAG, Rhona! Mini animals! Portable! Please, do I have to spell it out for you? CHIHUAHUA. And you must give it a cute name like Dolce or Gabbana or Donatella. Poodle and maltese- acceptable but not preferred. Didn't you receive a copy of my recently published debut masterpiece entitled, "Etiquette Rules in Hollywood- Make Mine Miu Miu" ?

Pick with caution

Aha! Another nose picker caught on film. This time, Diane Lane does what's called "The Thumb Pick" meaning- (noun). a modified nose pick disguised to look as if you are wiping your nose with your thumb when indeed you are inching your nail up your nostril. Discreet, but discernible from just an itch or rub.

People, if you are going out in public and you are a celeb- which, I assume many of you are, I strongly urge you to keep all digits from you face. Do not attempt to remove tripe or caviar from your teeth, no talking with your mouth full of liver on toast points and under no circumstances should you reach down your low riding Seven for All Humanity Jeans and adjust your Cosabella thong. Just don't. There will always be a paparazzi lurking about with a zoom lens, ready and eager to snap your picture and immortalize your bad behavior for all the world to view. Refer to Diane Lane and Nicky Hilton, both guilty of nasal clearance.

Wednesday, February 23

No shoes, no service

Dont you love this picture? She is sticking out her tongue, pointing to her private parts. Lovely! Again, sending messages of evil of hate to her sister.

They call it the "No skin, no tabloid" tour. I call it the "No talent, no singing" concert. I won four free tickets to this phenomenon known as Ashlee Simpson and sold them on Ebay where four front row seats earned me a whopping $23. 77.

I designed my own shirts to throw into the pot, sketching a black haired, mullet sporting girl wearing all black, doing a jig. It was quite good, actually. Maybe I'll design a whole line of shirts with Paris (who is baking on the beaches of Aruba as we speak with her boyfriend, Paris, wearing a bikini emblazened with her likeness) Tara "Weed" and Lindsay "they're real! it was a growth spurt!" Lohan. Think of the marketing we could do with those shirts. Possibilities are endless.

Tom has a message for you

"I have a butt plug in my pants and I like it. It's a Scientological device which L. Ron Hubbard designed as a form of mind control. Why don't you take a visit into my white van and you too can experience what Jenna Elfman calls, 'A mind blowing, not to mention anal clenching adventure which all of Hollywood should endorse. Especially those namby pamby Kabbalists.' "

Tom has so kindly (which all of you know by now) pulled up his own decked out Battlefield Earth conversion vehicle in front of production for his latest movie, complete with a generator powered by what Tom calls a "special Scientology juice".

Kirstie Alley drops by for a Dianetic hydraulic brain wave shock treatment and a bag of EL Fudge cookies. John Travolta comes over every morning at 5:30 for a testicle massage and a body fluid release, followed by a transmigration medulla oblongata dismemberment. Intriguing, no? Look at what Ashton is missing out on. Ha! Red bracelets!

Care to step into the van?

A page from the diary of Paris...

"Dear Diary, Woke up at noon. First thing I did was look in my mirror and apply my MAC lipglass in Prrrr. Had breakfast- coffee and a stick of gum. Daddy bought me a new Nokia cell phone,- made my servants apply rhinestones while I went to get hair done.

Had extensions again, anal bleaching and body wax. Went shopping, spent ten grand at Kitson and bought Nicky a shirt with my face on it. Also bought a Paris shirt and a Paris trucker cap. Had lunch at the Ivy. Threw it up in the bathroom of Lisa Kline.

Paris, I love myself. I'm hot. Can't believe phone got hacked into and the FBI is looking into it. hahaha. I'm so hot. And smart. Tara could never come up with anything this good. Nicole was getting all that attention for losing weight and getting engaged and blah blah blah. Its all about PARIS.

So glad I got Simon Rex to "break" into my cell and spread my address book and photos on the web. Also glad I taught Tinkerbell how to take photos with cell. That was a hot idea. Now everyone is thinking about me again. Paris is hot. Nicole is so not. Duh! Like, now everyone knows that I kissed Egplantina and that I do not have implants. But its like, SO EMBARASSING. Like, I can't believe that everyone knows that I had Frankie Muniz's phone number. That made me cry. He is NOT HOT even though he has a way cool car.

And Tara is pissed because zit faced boys keep calling her number. And Stephen King wont send me free books now. But who cares? I can barely read -or understand- his books. I like Sweet Valley High. Whatever happened to Jessica anyway? She was HOT like me.

Paris. Gosh, I love myself. Oh, time to go out with Paris. Love his name. Bad hair, cool name. Gotta run to the salon and get makeup done. Then have servants run my bath. Have Nicky pick up photos at Rite Aid. Get money from daddy. Wait, I'm HOT. Have to read about self in news and look on w.image for photos of me. Nothing is hotter than myself all over the webt. Have to get rid of Michael Jackson thing. I'm hotter."

Can't Bob Saget do anything to help?

Please. Feed the Children. Oh, now we know why Paris had that number programed into her cell phone. Look at Mary Kate's toothpick legs. Can't someone help her? My own powers do not stretch that far. I can only help with her frizzy hair which I suggest equal parts Frizz-Ease and BioSilk.

Let me clarify. Trusted sources tell me that she is a drug addict, not an anorexic. That place she went to in Utah? You know, to assist with her "eating problem" was really a stint to help with her cocaine fixation. Whats in that venti Starbucks cup anyway? Its not a mocha with extra milk. I think its pure caffeine laced with a Colon Blow-speed cocktail. This just proves that money can't buy happiness. It can just buy a lot of clothes. And big purses. And drugs, apparently.

Tuesday, February 22

BREAKING NEWS

NICKY HILTON PICKS HER NOSE. The money shot. You know when she picks, 24 kt gold, crystal encrusted boogers come out.

I wonder how much this photo is fetching? And will it end up on the cover of People Magazine this week? I can't believe it. Nicky Hilton actually shops at Rite Aid? And are those photos under her arm fresh from Paris' cell phone? No need for reprints. We've got them on the internet. Printers are spitting copies out around the globe as we speak.

Do you believe this?

OMG! The indignity of it all. First, Kirsten Dunst had to fly commercial all the way from France.
Oh please! At least tell me she got to fly in first class, not in coach. That would just be severe and unjust punishment. Then, she had to retrieve her own luggage and grab her own cart! How did she come up with the three dollars in quarters for the cart? WHY isn't there a bodyguard or an assistant to perform those menial tasks? Please- don't tell me she had to pull her own bags off the luggage carousel, shhhh!

Don't you know who she is? She was in Spiderman, for cryin out loud. Please! This girl should be given a dozen long stemmed roses and a limo ride over to the day spa so she can recover from flying Air France and not the Universal Studios private jet with the massuese and aromatherapist. My goodness! I am appalled at the lack of star treatment. Poor, poor Kirsten. Will she ever recover?

Tighter!

When she asked if her butt looked big in those pants, I just covered my mouth stifling a giggle and told her "No! Can you fit into a smaller size? You know white pants always make you look thin!" then I had to turn around so I didn't burst into a fit of laughter.

Everyone knows white pants creates a marshmallow effect. Your legs look like large, white, soft puffy sausages, especially when you insist on camel toe inducing spandex- lycra- blended fabrics.

When she asked which shoes to wear, I said, "Do you have anything that resembles Pomeranians you could wear as boots?" and she produced those, prompting me to give her the thumbs up. And then I suggested the heavy white coat, lined with purple rayon. "It'll keep you cool while you dance on stage." I insisted. She shrugged and put it on.

When I asked if I could do her makeup, she pushed me out the door and instructed me to get over to the mall and buy a case of Glow, then go to the florist and make sure her dressing room was filled with white calla lilies.

Not taking orders from anyone, especially a diva like her, I ordered the case of Glow but had it sent COD to Jennifer Garner. Did you think I didn't have a sense of humor?

You call that a nose job?

Here is Jennifer Lopez, age fifty trying to be thirty five. No, seriously. She doesn't look very good in my expert opinion. Did she draw on her brows with a Sharpie pen? Is she dipping into the same self tanner as Nicky Hilton? When will people realize that your skin isn't supposed to be a terra cotta hue?

Besides that, she just looks, I don't know, wrinkled like a pound puppy. And that is not a gigantic q-tip coming out of her ear around to her cheek. I know you wondered what it was. It's a secret microphone so she can talk with Marc Anthony who is waiting in the green room feeding her lines.

Gosh, I can't take my eyes off those brows. Baaaaaad. Please hand her some tweezers and a mirror.

Nice sweater, dude

Another pre-plastic surgery famous face I uncovered. Imagine thinning hair and a snarky sense of humor, plus a penchant for drinking and being loud. Any guesses?

***Ding ding ding*** Yes its Vince Vaughn. But why did he have a nose job? He was fine before going under the knife.

Give the girl an Oscar, an Emmy and a Grammy

Poor Lindsay Lohan. First was the whole implant question- did she or didnt she? Was it a "growth spurt" ? Then she was caught partying in New Orleans, all Coyote Ugly on the bar with a Marlboro light in her mouth and a long neck Coors in her hand. Recently, her dad just crashed his car, Billy Joel style, into a phone pole on Long Island. Her BFF just stole her ex boyfriend. Yes, thats right. Wilmer and Ashlee. I think Lindsay should go out with clean sweep Ryan Cabrerra and his broomstick hair. Whats fair is fair, right? And who can forget the very public feud with Hilary Duff over Aaron Carter (I ask myself WHY every time I see a photo of him).

And of course, we all know Paris just sent an invite to the entire world to call Lindsay, offering up her cell number to all the internet subscribers on planet earth. The Mystic Tan Lindsay applied looks to be fading on her upper chest, yet she still manages to press her frosty lips together into a tight smile and wear a jaunty little biker hat and a white wife beater (another shirt from the K. Fed Collection) and show up at the TRL awards.

Poor thing is suffering on the inside. But she puts on a happy face for all of us, her fans. If she doesn't deserve an Oscar, I dont know who does. And I haven't even seen Herbie, Fully Loaded yet.

Monday, February 21

Dial 555 PARIS for a good time

Poor Paris. Don't you feel sorry for her, getting her cell phone hacked and the contents splashed all over the internet including topless photos she took of herself? Sort of like the sex videos that she made- of herself? And then there's the many photos of her by herself, her with her dog, her with another girl. A little narcisstic, our Paris? I know firsthand that she has her entire five thousand square foot bedroom covered in floor to ceiling mirrors with rotating spotlights.

I tried calling Eminem and Lindsay, but they didn't answer. I left messages. And I satisfied my urge to consume some light reading this afternoon by studying the line by line messages from her cell. Fascinating. I needed to know what goes inside that Swarovski studded blonde head of Paris. Spray tan? Birth control kill pill? Gift for Nicky? This is best seller material. I had to print it all out so I could read it again before I go to bed tonight. Then I bedazzled all the pages and drew a picture of Paris in the upper left hand corner, but not before spraying my Paris perfume over the paper.

People, if you haven't read it, get yourself over one of the many sites that offer this juicy reading and pull up a seat. And if you are really excited, you can order the shirt. And if you wait about three days, a new scandal will be erupting and this will be almost forgotten.

Except you know those topless photos will find their way into one of the tabloids by the end of the week. Did I mention the lesbian lip lock photos? Remind me to turn my cell phone to OFF.

The Kutch at Nascar

Is it cool with the high Kabbalah elders for Ashton and Demi to be at a Nascar race? Is it written in the bylaws of the Celebrity Guide to the Kabbalah (the official Hollywood manual) that car races are allowed? Or is he punking Jeff Gordon?

Last year I met Ashton "The Kutch" over at Sky Bar at the Mondrian Hotel for drinks. Before I arrived, I tied a piece of red yarn around my wrist, knowing that he is worse than a Jehovahs Witness on my doorstep when it comes to religion and Kabbalah. He's pushier than Madonna and she is a force to be reckoned with. She not only sent me a case of Kabbalah water, but a signed copy of the Zohar.

But I digress. I would have never guessed The Kutch as a NASCAR fan. Bruce Willis, yes. He looks the part of a middle aged racing fan with a beer in one hand and a flag in the other with a cowboy hat on his head. But not Ash. And what is Demi wearing? Is that a sequined encrusted western style shirt? Is that regulation car racing wear? I dont know anything about Nascar. But I know a lot about fashion, and Ashton's busy jacket and Demi's shirt are pretty ugly. Please tell me they aren't wearing matching Uggs.

I bumped into Meg Ryan today when I was picking up my dog from her spa visit. She was having a high colonic and an aromatherapy treatment (my dog, not Meg Ryan) which is very chic here in Hollywood. I hear Paris checks Tinkerbell in to have a canine massage and anal sac cleansing with sea salts.

Anyway, I was leaving and who should I bump into but Meg. And I was all (air kiss) "Meg! Hey! I didnt recognize you!" and she lowered her head and mumbled something about getting her lip implants removed because no one in LA wanted to hire her for film work because people were frightened of what's called a "trout pout".

So I was forced to look away and claim ignorance even though its totally possible that I coined the term "trout pout" myself after seeing said implants. And I tried to soothe her and comment on her firm, tight skin but she took offense and stormed off in a huff, which if you know her like I do, is quite typical. I wasn't lying, her skin was pulled taut and stretched thin and I knew that she had work done and of course she's been getting doses of Botox since 1996. That skin was pretty snug over those cheekbones and her top lip did look a little poofy although she hadn't ventured into Lisa Rinna territory- yet.

I called after her but she had broken into a fast gallop down the street and there was no way I could catch up to her at that point because my dog was peeing on the tire of a Range Rover which actually belonged to Jennifer Aniston. I found that out after I turned to leave and saw her getting behind the wheel wearing sunglasses and a frown. After my Meg debacle, I left well enough alone and didn't speak to another actress all day. Geez, mention plastic surgery or a divorce or weight gain and these celebs get all snippy.

Sunday, February 20

Welcome to SuperCuts

Goldie, I'd like to introduce you to something I call scissors. They are used to cut paper and other things like.. hair. You know, like when you've had a hairstyle for the past thirty years and it's time to upgrade to something other than a shaggy, overgrown, limp coiff with sheepdog bangs hanging in your bloodshot eyes.

I see you're still recovering from that carb binge you went on. Goldie, your face is looking as puffy as a biscuit and I notice a little tummy protrusion. Stretchy, clingy fabrics are not a good idea for anyone. Not to be mean, but a girdle and a haircut would really turn things around for you. And seriously, I'm not saying this because of how you snubbed me. I'm overcoming the bitterness that caused me to throw a flaming bag of dog poop on your lotus flowers last year.

And Kurt, you look like one big potato head of gin blossoms. Are you hitting the Jim Beam? Why don't you slip some into your womans drink and together we can get rid of that rats nest and bring her hair into the new millenium?

A diary entry from Paris~

"Dear Diary, I woke up so early this morning, like eleven ! Can't believe my croissant and coffee were NOT READY again. Ugh! Like, the cook needs to be fired! Hello! And why weren't my Juicy Couture pants dry cleaned? And, like I asked that my Mukluks be dry brushed! Whats wrong with the servants around here?

Went shopping with Nicky on Rodeo. Only spent eight thousand, need to talk to daddy about a bigger allowance. So not fair! Talked on my cell phone all afternoon while laying by the pool and text messaging on my crystal studded Blackberry. Tara and Lindsay will not like, leave me alone. Tara is in Florida. Is that a city or a state? Who cares.

But like, the best thing happened. I finally met Mr. Right. And his name is Paris, how like, cool is that? Totally. And he is even richer than me. I don't care if his hair has too much SunIn in it, he is hot because he has lots of money and can buy me stuff. Forget Nick Carter or Rick Saloman. They were not hot. Or rich. Or named Paris.

Paris and Paris, that is like, so hot!! SO HOT. Paris and Paris 4ever. I went to the salon where I got my pale blonde extensions and got my makeup done up, heavy on the purple eyeshadow and frosted pink lipstick. I was brought home in my diamond encrusted Bentley and talked on my cell phone some more. I love talking about Paris. Paris. Paris.

Then got ready to go out- with Paris. Like, I love that name. My line of shirts are coming out soon with my face on them. Now I have a perfume, shirts, purses and a boyfriend all named after me, Paris. And when I adopt kids- because there is like, no way I'm going to get fat- I'm going to name them Paris too. That is so hot."

A night out with the boys

Jada Pinkett Smith is debuting the Kevin Federline brand of clothing, the "K Fed Collection", if you will. Note the baggy jeans and oversized shirt. Wearing these clothes, you must choose sizes that are too large and unflattering. Wife beater, optional.

Jada decided to lace up her shoes, despite the warning that comes with the clothes: shoes must remain unlaced/unvelcro-ed. Is it me or does she look masculine? And I'm not talking just a tiny bit manly, I have to wonder if she's packing something in those jeans.

I have no appreciation of the thuggy appearance of this usually attractive woman. I know, Jada, it really is such a pain to get all dressed up in heels and a skirt and pile on the cosmetics and look all girly and cute, but I rather make the effort than end up being confused with a male. Does Will find men attractive? Or is this some kind of sexual role play? Does the fact that you are spending the evening with Tom "if you say I'm gay, I'll sue you" Cruise, play a part in any of this?

Nothing is left to the imagination

Just so you can get the flavor of the night, I wanted to display for you some photos I stumbled upon of Pamela Anderson, devoted soccer mom of two young boys. I'm sure you were wondering what she looked like without her clothes on, now you can get a good idea.

When she isn't parading around showing off the lower quadrant of her implants, she's lifting her skirt to show off her blue thong. She's drinking champagne, she's partying like its 1999. Although not pictured here, Dennis Rodman was present, determined to slip her the salami after the party. He's about twice the size of Stephen Dorff- literally.

Her XXS shirt rides up, her extra petite, band-aid of a skirt almost comes off, but the trucker hat stays in place. At least something is covered.

Saturday, February 19

PULL MY FINGER. No thanks, Paris. You just had the black bean crab salad with the tripe and goat cheese and I don't want to be near you, let alone pull your finger. That Paris, such a prankster.

I'm sure you didnt know this, but she frequently passes gas and blames it on her tiny, shaking dog Tinkerbell. Why do you think she insists on carrying that dog with her everywhere?

I cannot believe the camera actually caught her pulling the "pull my finger" stunt, but there you go. And look at that grin on her face. Back up people. It's going to be nasty.

P. Drooly

I used to hang out with Puff Diddy a lot back on the east coast. Used to attend his fancy parties at his huge estate on the Hamptons. It was wild, lavish, and everything you would think a big party would be.

The Cristal was flowing freely, caviar was spread out on imported crackers, beautiful waitresses strolled around offering pate on gold plated trays. Music was pulsating , oxygen was pumped in, the pool was all aglow with tiny lights floating on lily pads. Believe me, it was amazing and the guest list read like a who's who of the music industry. The only negative was that Jennifer Lopez was kind of mean to me a few times, cutting in front of me on line for the ladies room.

Anyway, Puffy is a great guy but ultimately I had to start refusing the invites. Why, you ask? Well, to be honest, it had something to do with his drooling. Yeah. He drools, a lot. Occasionally he had a Red Lobster-type bib around his neck to catch the drool but more often than not he would have a line of spittle dangling off his protruding bottom lip and it was gross. I offered him napkins and scarves to wipe but he refused, using the cuff of his silk shirt instead.

You were right if you said JESSICA SIMPSON. If you look real hard you can see the reflection of Joe Simpson in her glasses. Are you kidding? He never lets her out of his sight.

Swing low...

Tara Reid, I would like to suggest a wardrobe garment called a "bra". This contraption will not only lift your boobs, but help relieve the pressure from your shoulders. It pains me to look at you, yet I can't stop staring. Like becoming entranced with a bad accident on the freeway, I just can't tear myself away from the tragedy that has become of your breasts.

Have you been acting as a wet nurse for the many celebs who have given birth lately? Trying to pick up a little cash on the side, perhaps? Then what other excuse is there to have tits drooping towards your belly like the heavy udders of a cow that is past milking time?

It appears that you have been breast feeding a few kids for the past couple of months. Those are post nursing boobs and don't deny it. I haven't seen so much saggage since Paris Hilton's soggy butt in her bikini on the beach. Tara, remember, low cut shirts are not your friend but a sturdy bra is.

Friday, February 18

Am I tan?

Hey y'all. Gimme 'nother round of drinks? And a pack of smokes too, y'all.

Well, me and Kev, we've been like, hangin' out in Kentwood these pass coupla weeks. We hadn't been back here in munts. I's been by da pool, Kev went out to find somethin' probably some weed, y'all. I wanted to lay out and work on mah tan. I want to be like, really tan. My tur bus used ta have a tannin' bed. But I aint goin' on another tur 'cause I'd like, really miss Kev! So, we's decided to come here and like, hang out at mah house. And I just rub baby oil into mah skin and eat pork rinds and chips and not worry 'bout anything- like all a Kev's kids back in California.

We's talkin' bout going up Jawjah and goin' to Atlanta. It's gonna be so fun! Like a road trip wif me and mah Kev and Bitbit. Have y'all seen Kev in Details magazine? He is so hot! I hadda beg the editers to put him on the cover and they was laughing and sayin' somethin' bout a free ride and a meal ticket and I'm all, whats that?

Y'all, I can't believe I'm married! And its lasting longer than when I took off to Vegas andd married Jason Alexander. Not the guy from Seinfeld.

Marriage is like, so fun. I can't wait to be a mama. It's gonna be so cool. I'm gonna have babies that look just like mah Kev with lil trucker caps and unlaced hightops! Im wantin' all little boys named Kevin Earl! Im tryin' real hard to git pregnant. I cut back on mah smokin' and drinkin' y'all. Honest I have.

And I've been like, shopping for baby stuff, y'all. And Jamie Lynn can't wait to be an aunt. If it's a girl, I'm gonna name her Britney Lynn Or maybe Britney Earl! Or Earline Kevina! Y'all, ain't that so cute? Well, I gotta go rub some more oil into mah skin. I'm starting to fry real good. That means mah skin will turn brown and I'll look real purty when we go out for Popeyes chicken tonight. Bye, y'all!

A love story

Once upon a time, there was an actor, lets call him Ken Baffleck. Well, Ken was very popular, although a bit scruffy and had a penchant for beer and poker. He met and fell in love with a woman named...lets call her Mennifer. She was fresh from a break up with B. Niddy.

Mennifer Bopez gave Ken a Queer Eye makeover minus the queer guys. She forced him to slick back his hair and get facials and wax his back and get a pedicure and invited him to be in a music video where they lay on a yacht where he kept running his manicured hands over her ample bottom so much so that the video now comes with a warning that over-watching may induce a phobia of oversized rear ends.

One day, they decided the "press" interfered with their relationship and the whole Kennifer relationship had run out of steam, especially since the box office bomb, Jiggly. So months passed and she married to someone else and Ken donated the Gucci suits and the Armani wool overcoats to Salvation Army and went au natural, letting his unkempt, ball scratching self free. Enter another girl, this one named Lennifer. She was cute, sweet, a divorced actress who knew how to kick some ass although she herself didnt have a large one.

Determined not to have a repeat of his previous failed relationship that included lots of butt rubbing, spa visits and copious amounts of self tanner, the two of them decided not to work together and not be in the public eye every second. They rented videos from Blockbuster, preferring quiet evenings of pizza and beer to going out every night to each happening spot in Los Angeles. Ken was glad not to have to be dressed up like an oversized doll in expensive suits and imported hair product.

So, as this love story concludes my trusty sources tell me there will be an engagement and following that will be little baby Ken's. I can hardly wait for the next chapter.

Wake up! Birds are nesting in your hair

I'm glad Pam covered up here, even if her top half appears to be larger than her gigantic hair. What happened was, she went into the parking lot and a flock of wild Las Vegan eagles landed in her blonde hair and got tangled in her hairpsrayed tresses. She was so intoxicated that she didn't even notice, she thought it was her boyfriend messing up her hair again.

She changed into her modified Champion sweatshirt- cut up and redone to show some skin- not even aware of the fact that her hair was larger the billboard over at Ballys. She beelined it right to the slot machines where she kept feeding it nickels and her boyfriend couldnt even tell her it was a quarter machine.

Finally she passed out on the craps table, her implants acting as a cushion to pad her fall. Thank goodness she went with the G-cups or else she may have broken something.

Wow. What an amazing coincidence. That is the same outfit I just wore to dinner last night! That Pam! Such a copycat. Except the shirt didn't quite fit me like that. For one, I wore a bra and the shirt actually fit me like a shirt not like a cut off tank top exposing the bottoms of my breasts. And two, I don't have those abs no matter how many pilates classes I take. And three, I was not wearing the trucker cap at an angle on my head. I had on a fedora. So really, I guess we didn't have the same outfit on because mine covered all my private parts. You can't tell from this photo but Pam's skirt is the size of my wrist band. And she is the unnatural shade of terra cotta that only comes from living in a tanning bed.

I don't know what happened to Pammy. We used to hang out and take long walks on the beach and do girl things like paint each other nails and make fun of David Hasselhoff. Then she took up with that midget, Stephen Dorff and I haven't heard from her since.

Then she shows up in Las Vegas looking like a stripper from the Spearmint Rhino, giving everyone a peek of the bottom quarter of her implants, stumbling around on impossibly high heels, wearing more makeup than a Madonna impersonater over at the Tropicana.

It's clear-Stephen Dorff must be stopped. I prefer the Tommy Lee version of Pamela, or even the Kid Rock Pamela. SD encourages her to show off her ample breasts and dress like a Hollywood Blvd. hooker. How much for one night, Pam?

Cuckoo for crack

If crack is whack, then give Whitney some smack. No reason to travel to New Orleans when the party is on Whitneys head. Shes got a Mardi Gras float in her hair complete with party streamers. The only thing that is missing is the beads. but give her a minute, the shirt comes off, the beads go on and then the party really gets started.

Oh how sweet Whit has changed since we saw her in The Bodyguard. Witness the effect of being married to Bobby Brown: weight loss, drug addiction and odd choice in hats.

The last time I was hanging with Whitney we were at a birthday party for a singer in the industry. I was trying to carry on a conversation with her, but she didnt know where she was or what day of the week it was, she kept slurring her words and trying to force out monosyllabic grunts while smoking and holding a glass of champgane. To be honest, she grossed me out because she kept dribbling down her chin and drooling while quivering and calling out, "Bobby! Bring mama some of the good stuff!"

I gave up on discussing world politics with her and walked off to find Christina Aguilera who really knows how to carry on a discussion. And she doesn't shake or drool which is a plus when attempting to converse.

Pimp My Ride, Y'all

This is the new car Britney is buying for Cletus. He asked for a vehicle that was more "southern" to fit in with her Louisiana roots rather than the tricked out convertible he's been driving. They happened across this lovely Mercedes with the special tires as seen in the Kentwood Auto Trader.

The first thing Kev said when he laid his half- opened eyes on this car was, "Baby, I gotta git me a gun rack for this." And she paused from smoking her unfiltered cigarette, and was all, "Oh baby. I'll buy you whatever you want. Y'all want a cd changer in there too? How 'bout a special cup holder for your beer?"

We should feel very lucky to have the first glimpse of the new-used Federline wheels. It's quite a ride. They say the same thing about Britney. oops!

Yasmin Le Bon Bon

Yasmin Le Bon why are you dressed like a dessert item? Your skirt conjures up images of a parfait of some kind, strawberry perhaps? With a blouse of pistachio and a shrug of whipped cream. The only thing missing is a cherry so if you could please find a red fedora, that would really cap off the Dairy Queen fantasy.

Remember back in the day- you, me and the boys from Duran Duran, how we used to party at the underground clubs in Manhattan? And how we used to be too wasted to walk home so we would crash at Simon's hotel room and then go on look-sees when we were struggling to be models? And you started doing the whole Victoria's Secret thing while I lived with a shaman in Sedona for a year working on my spirituality.

I have not seen you in so long, imagine my disappointment when the first time I lay my eyes on you, you are wearing an awful fruity layer skirt! You need to call me, Yas. We'll get together and make ourselves throw up and play Eileen Ford and pretend we're new models in the Big Apple. Just like old times. Except please don't dress as a chocolate eclair or a trifle. You know how I try to stay away from sweets.

Fatal Gestation

I don't know why Aaron Carter wasted his time suing his mother or whatever he was doing when he wasn't enjoying the catfight between Lindsay "my boobs are real" Lohan and Hilary "yellow teeth" Duff. He was either dreaming about the boys from New Kids on the Block, or dreaming he was in NKOTB. That business with his mother was all labored in vain, because I believe that woman was not his mother at all.

From these photos it's clear that Aaron is the product of a one night stand between Sharon Stone and David Bowie. Apparently, one night in the late eighties, Sharon and David spent an evening together and yes, there was nudity and body fluids exchanged.

It's been a secret for many years, but after viewing the photos here, I put the pieces together and surmised that my blog will be blowing the doors wide open on a scandel thats going to rock the nation, or at least, Aarons world. And I wonder how Iman feels about being a step-mother?

Thursday, February 17

The man in the curtain

Michael Jackson fainted yesterday. Everyone was speculating that the stress of the trial and having the press taking his photos, capturing his soul on film, caused him to black out and be rushed to the hospital.

Listen up. The truth of the matter is that his nose caved in and he was unable to inhale oxygen, thus rendering him incapable of breathing, obviously compromising his health. Never fear. After having holes drilled into his nasal cavity, he was able to recover in his private room with the Lost Boys poster and the Corey Feldman sheets. He changed into his one piece Peter Pan pajamas with the butt flap and curly toed slippers. Then he applied a fresh coat of Cherries in the Snow and a dab of ivory pressed powder, combed a little black shoe polish through his hair and then parted the curtains to give his fans a a glimpse from the hospital window.

He turned around, grabbed his oversized Beanie Baby and dangled it out the window, holding up a sign that he loves his fans, especially the young ones.

Watson, can you hear me?

Paula, I see you dressed for my Murder Mystery Dinner night so why didn't you show up? I was wondering where you were. Clearly you were on your way, why else would you be wearing a jacket sewn from drapes and jodphurs tucked into riding boots? Weren't you slated to be Colonel Mustard, in the billiard room?

We had a great time without you though so don't feel too badly. Just FYI it was Simon, in the conservatory, with a revolver. That man is brutal when it comes to role playing. He makes a mean Mrs. Peacock. I have a Sherlock Holmes cap for you, a magnifying glass and a pipe to complete your ensemble for next weeks game, but I will be asking for the props back so be careful with them. Like, don't go wearing the cap to a movie premiere or anything. How funny would that be? And then people would laugh and say it looks like you were on your way to a ... nevermind. You just take your medication honey.

Cobblers do it better

Daniel Day Lewis is going all homeless chic on us but this is not a recent development. Ever since he ran off to a village in Europe and became a cobbler, he lost interest in clothes and dressing like a hygenic member of society. But he has really nice custom created shoes crafted out of soft Italian leather that fit his feet like a glove.

Anyway, Rebecca isn't looking so hot either. I need to point out that neither her short, drab olive colored blazer along with a maroon blouse nor her highwaisted gray pants show any attempt at coordination. Daniel doesn't care, this is a man who wears a knotted pink scarf over a hot pink tee shirt with the sequined words "I was born to cobble!" - but you can't see the words because of the heavy wool blazer. A beret placed on his scruffy hair brings out the black in his racoonish beard. I also see pieces of french bread from lunch caught in there.

These are real actors, they take their craft very seriously, stripping themselves of human needs like soap and water and most important of all, hair product. But pretty tulips. Are those for me?

Remember when Renee was all squinty eyes and limp blonde hair? Then she broke up with Jack White, and in a moment of rebound insanity, took a photo of Ashlee Simpson to her hairdresser and said, "Make mine black." Well, you know what they say. Once you dye black, you never go back.

So here she is, brutally fierce hair and cadaverous skin. Certain people can pull off black hair, namely those who were born with it. In the picture with the polka dots, what is wrong with her cheeks and mouth? Oh, I know. Her chin is missing. And the hair- Buster Brown called, he wants his blunt cut bangs back. If its any consolation, Beetlejuice finds you very attractive.

Honey, it's okay to look pretty again. You will find another man. Although Jim Carrey is single at the moment. And it's very convenient since you have already dated him, you can skip over all the getting-to-know-you stuff. He might even feel like the relationship is new since you look so different. Add some blush and call me.

Wednesday, February 16

Hilary. Honey, no. Did Kelly Osbourne loan you her red lipstick in the bathroom? Was there no light or did your sister tell you how great you looked and encouraged you to add another swipe of Wet N Wild No. 33 to your lips while she laughed at making you look like Anna Nicole? That was mean, Haylie Duff. You should know better.

I'd like to give you some makeup remover and a few tubes of Rembrandt, Hilary. You can lie but I prefer the truth- I know you've been smoking. Your teeth have the nicotine tinged hue of a girl who has been bathing her teeth in Marloboro Lights.

Please lose the tomato red lip stain and give your sister the smokes. There is nothing worse than a cute girl with teeth like Indian corn. We dont care so much about your sister so she can have beige teeth and green lips for all I care.

Shiny Spice from the Shine Girls

Before I offer Victoria Posh Spice a few of my Clean and Clear Oil matting papers, I should encourage her to accompany me for a Sargasso weed, oxygen infused, rock powder, sandstone, turpentine chemical peel and a sandblasting from my supreme facialist in Beverly Hills.

I see shine, pimples, enlarged pores and brown lipliner, all of which require immediate attention. After our faces have been cleaned thoroughly, we will then receive an imported Beluga caviar skin massage, followed by a diamond chip epidermal mask which will conclude with a white lotus mist and a moisturizing treatment created from rare apricots and avacados with an infusion of oats and a hint of barley. It makes the skin feel like buttah.

Her skin will look so much better. No longer will David Beckham be able to see his reflection in her forehead. And it is every bit worth the $14,000 price tag, trust me.

And when we are skipping down Robertson Blvd, hand in hand like two giddy school girls with smooth, acne free skin, I will pull her into the MAC store where we will banish the orange-brown lipliner with tissues and we will find a more subtle color. I just don't know what she would do without me. I really don't.

Uma Thurman misread the invitation to the party. It wasn't a lingerie party it was casual dress! Shame. She must have received the same invite as Anna Nicole. Sorry about that girls. I was in charge of getting those out and I guess I made a small error. Now Uma must spend the evening in a tiny dress decorated in sequined hearts with only a jean jacket to keep her warm. Brrrr.

I hear John Travolta will be at the party so I'm certain he can loan Uma a Scientology blanket to keep her toasty. Its quite cozy with L. Ron Hubbard sayings embroidered around the edge. I was cold at the premiere of Battlefield Earth so he kindly loaned me his blanket. That was before I was approached by Kirstie Alley and Jenna Elfman to enter into the center and be hooked up to a machine shaped like a colander with wires and gears to control my brain.

Uma should have stayed with Ethan Hawke *sigh*. He always kept a plaid jacket in the trunk of his Plymouth Valiant for times like these, along with dirty blankets, plastic bags and aluminum cans. Or maybe she should have worn a pair of black pants under her dress and lost the coat. Denim is not for celebrity parties. It's for Willie Nelson and the other members of Farm Aid. I guess Uma didnt get that memo.

Shake Your Muff

Very good, a Starbucks cup placed in front of you. Are you looking for a spokeperson job for Starbucks? If so, that position is taken by Mary Kate Olsen.

Paris on the cover of Playboy and a naked Debbie Gibson inside the pages? Let me toss aside my Lucky and Star magazines and sit down with a copy of Playboy so I can see what Debbie Gibson looks like naked. Not wanting to waste five dollars on the magazine, I'll probably sneak a copy off the rack at Barnes and Noble, stick it between the pages of Celtic Quilting and have a peek. I'm sure Debbie doesn't have implants. Of course, I'm kidding. I would never be seen reading Celtic Quilting.

She's really vamping up her image, isnt she? First a guest judge on American Idol next thing you know, Debbie's naked in the grotto of the Playboy mansion playing nude water polo with Robin Leach.

Keeping a not so stiff upper lip

Lisa Rinna, how is it that your boobs and your lips keep growing while mine just sort of stay the same? And by staying the same, I mean that I haven't visited a plastic surgeon in the last few months while clearly, honey, you have.

Personally, I try to avoid pink lipstick and a red dress but I understand you don't want to call undue attention to your bombastic lips which are attention grabbers without any extra adornment.

And the halter top of your dress reminds me of two hammocks for your bosoms. I can even see nipples so I'm guessing you aren't shy about going braless and it is under 73* in the room you are occupying.

Back to the subject of your mouth, why did you decide to have your spleen removed, turned inside out and sewed to your face? I've seen the before shots and Lisa, you were very attractive.

No offense, but you have a really bad case of Trout Pout and I'm wondering if that can somehow be reversed. You know, that Dr. 90210 is quite crafty and good with his hands, he may be able to fashion another body part out of the spare flesh of your lips. A pair of nipple covers perhaps?

Tacky to the last drop

I see this as an advertisement for the inventive and practical use of implants. View the photo on the left. How ingenious! Anna Nicole has found a way to have a built-in shelf to place drinks on, or in her case- eat Kentucky Fried chicken and drink Boones Farm right off her own body!

Its quite a creative idea. No more messy car rides trying to feed yourself sandwiches with one hand on the wheel. Place your meal right on your bosom mantle! Complete with a cup holder, which is utilized from ample cleavage, perfect for a wine glass or champagne flute.

Next, please turn your attention to the photo on the right. Do you think she is aware that she is giving is peep show to the world in her Fredericks of Hollywood gown with the see through red mesh bodice? She took the dress home along with a pair of five inch heeled, feathered mules and a matching feather boa (not shown) and cut the seam a good five inches more than what it was intended. She felt the boa would take away from the elegance of the dress, and in wearing the mules she may need help walking after a bottle or two of Wild Turkey shared in the back seat of the limo with her assistant Kim.

Nothing says klass like a bright red dress with a slit that exceeds the place where babies come from.

Tuesday, February 15

Duuuuuuuude. Ben Harper, I would love to know, how did you get the 1984 airbrushed eagle wings off my Camaro? That is wild. I used to sprawl across the hood and crank my Whitesnake albums up as high as possible while pretending I was in a music video. And now, so many years later, Ben shows up and like, wow. Deja vu.

And besides the Elvis- inspired pantsuit, Ben also shows us how to incorporate a western inspired belt buckle and hip hop gold sneakers into the mix along with a collared, peach colored blouse. Not to mention the thatch of hair sprouting from his chin like a well groomed Chia pet. You go, Ben!

But it hurts..

Poor Jenny from the Block. Quick, someone, she's crying, hand her a white, lily scented tissue. Or maybe she is passing an eight pound kidney stone. Or possibly its just an embarrassing attempt at squeaking out a tune without the assistance of vocal engineering. Whatever she's doing- singing, thinking of the glory days of Bennifer, it sure looks painful and I would advise against doing it at home.

That dress had such potential. It saddens me to see what has become of such a lovely gown. It could have been tastefully adorned with bronze and silver. Instead, she chose to wear a thick cumberbund/belt to hold up the midsection of her dress which accentuates her childbearing hips. And the neckline and very top part of the dress looks slouchy. And is Jenny trying to hide a beer belly with some lumpy rayon? Not working, hon.

I would like to eradicate the fierce hairstyle of tightly pulling one's hair away from the face. And Jen, how about letting us have a peek at your real hair instead of those fly infested Appaloosa horse-hair extensions?

Oh, and Marc? Honey, have you tried Head & Shoulders for that flake problem? How about a haircut? You have a Latino mullet going on there and the gelled curls need to be snipped off and placed in Jennifer's scrap book along with Ben Affleck's pre-veneer teeth, P. Diddys gun and Chris Judd's 8 x 10 matte finish photo.

Imagine her surprise when Sheryl went to change into her Grammy gown and found that something- or someone- with a big mouth and an even bigger appetite had taken a generous mouthful of her gown and left a circular bite taken out of the yellow frock.

With a shrug, she turned to Lance Armstrong and asked if him he had any gold tinsel left over from Christmas. Amazingly, he did. With some Kwik Glue and a steady hand, she applied the tinsel to her gown and simply shrugged off the fact that everyone would be able to view her colon, rib cage, belly button, pelvis and the lower part of her breast.

Like a trooper, she acted as if nothing were wrong, as if it were normal to have a enormous gaping hole in her dress where the Grammy viewers could clearly see she was not wearing underpants. After she was satisfied with her revamped daffodil gown, she turned to see Star Jones, yellow thread clinging to her lips. We can only guess what happened.

How high can you go?

I don't want to break the news here and now, but it's time that they come out with it. Ryan and Scarlett...well. This is tough. Okay, here goes. They both use Redken Rewind.

And they both use the same hairdresser, obviously. Or else as I believe, they did hair styling for each other. Someone must have told them that hair gelled and molded into a little poof at the tops of their heads looks good. Scarlett combed her hair back and slicked it with a generous scoop of gel, forcing it back stiffly on both sides with Aqua Net. Then she teased her bangs while Ryan sprayed the top and teased it into a pompadour. "Higher, higher!" she cried as he referred to a photo of Marge Simpson for reference.

She then took a turn and mussed Ryan's hair into a similar style: high and tight. While Ryan's makeup is very subtle and has a Mystic tan quality to it, Scarlett has made a wrong turn in cosmetic application and has used orange eyeshadow which makes her eyes look feverish and ill. I would like to suggest that Scarlett uses dark greens on her eyes, rather than a color used in decorating fast food restaurants.

Monday, February 14

Not to beat a dead horse...

Is that a flesh eating bacteria snaking up her legs? A killer fungus? Again, I see a budding camel toe from those thigh chafing pants to go with her sleeveless coral/salmon colored top, which puts on display her bat wings. Coral lipstick, coral earrings, coral shirt, coral vines on her pants, a little overkill on that color, you think? And then Al wears a velvet burgandy jacket? Hello! That clashes with coral. Al, you will be spanked later tonight.

I have never seen a "host" pull a spouse into so many photos as Star does with Al. Does she feel she has something to prove, as if she might be talking about a homosexual ghost and has to prove his existance? We KNOW, Star. You dont need to yank him into the view of the camera people and bark, "Take my picture with my Al! Take IT NOW!"

And then her head spins around and her lips part to reveal dragon teeth and scales, and horns start to grow and she grunts and screams until every last photographer from all major press has snapped her photo with Al.

Sunday, February 13

Piggatry at its finest

Please be wearing underpants. I cant even contemplate the repercussions if a strong breeze started blowing, exposing her ..ugh! I cant. Cant do it. Use your imagination. Or not. Take a Tums if you need to.

That slit is too high. I see too much exposed leg and now I have post traumatic stress syndrome.

Necklace, earrings and bracelet, courtesty of the Star Jones Reynolds Jewel Collection, available in three easy payments of $44.99. You can find the purchasing form in the back of the Globe magazine at the check out stand in the grocery store.

I dont think the shoes are Payless however.

Maybe Jennifer Lopez will step on the train of Star's gown and she will tumble, head first breaking her jaw which will have to be wired shut, and then be unable to wheeze her way through another red carpet show.

Im not an Olsen sister, I just play one on TV

Ouch! Don't hug Sheryl too tight if you happen to run into her in the press room at the Grammys. Her bones will cut you like a knife and her shoulder blades will give you a laceration worthy of an ER visit.

Give this girl a loaf of french bread and a dozen bagels, please! She needs some carbs to insulate her, to love her and comfort her. Her sternum looks like something from a medical school poster. She is four pounds away from being a skeleton hanging in a biology lab.

Sheryl, stop biking through the Himalayas with Lance's bike, start eating and don't wear a low cut dress until you gain twenty pounds! You are treading on Mary Kate territory and it aint pretty.

Chaka Kahn let me rock you. Let me rock you Chaka Kahn. Let me find you another outfit Chaka Kahn. One that doesnt look like two puppies in your chest Chaka Kahn. Let me tell you what I wanna do Chaka. Wanna find a dress that covers you knees. Something that doesnt look like the wall coverings from an 18th century bordello, Chaka Kahn.

The black fart cloud hangs over Star...

I've been receiving emails, faxes, phone messages, smoke signals, telegraphs and frantic calls on my cell phone regarding Star. Calm down, people. I'm here for you.

And so is Star, wearing her vampirish, blood red, satin gown with a pudgy stomach roll poking out beneath the material. She has Al Reyonold's hairy pelt thrown over her shoulder. She skinned him, sucked his blood and then proceeded to grab a microphone from the E! producers and planted herself on the "green" carpet so she could ask ignorant questions about people she doesnt know. I'm just kidding. It's not Al. It's a bunch of donkey hair combined with synthetic wigs.

Her freakish talons are filed into sharp, tiger-like points just in case the camera pans away from her face. And of course, she is using her on-camera moments to pimp out her own haughty vanity. Has anyone else noticed she hasn't a clue what to say to the musicians that stop by to "chat" with her?

"Uh, yeah. Have you met my husband Al? He's the gay black man standing behind the lighting technician holding my mirror and two ton makeup kit along with my collection of Star Jones wigs."

Saturday, February 12

Here, let me take off my jacket a little bit so everyone can enjoy a view of my boobies. Is that better? See? It happened when I went through a like, a growthspurt. Like, even thought Im 29, these things just suddenly, like appeared! Holy crap! Dude, anybody have a flask? Some whiskey? Vokda? A cigarette? Something to smoke? Lets get this party STARTED. Wanna go home with me? Do you? Come on, dont be shy. Im not. Skanky, yes. Shy, no.

Poor Heather. She just went to her plastic surgeon for a dose of botox and now has that smile frozen on her frosted pink lips. It's a real bitch when you can't move your facial muscles isn't it, Heath? And your legs are spread apart, why? Because you have your period and those darn pads are like diapers. I know it. You are just having a miserable night.

Hey Richie. That puffy shirt from the infamous Seinfeld episode sure makes the rounds. I think you are about the third person I've seen that on this year. Oh, and one more thing. Porn star hair is soooooo over. Feathered bangs and a faux mullet? O-ver. And while we are talking about you, why bother with that one solitary button on your blouse? Just leave the whole thing open like Kid Rock. However, I must be honest. I find open shirts are so unattractive, nothing against you personally. But are you trying to show off your man cleavage? Ewww. The 1989 hey day of Bon Jovi is over, dude. Time to dress like a grown up and leave the longish hair, open shirts and tight pants back in the 80's where they belong.

Missy Elliot, prepare for takeoff

Five...four...three...two...one...Blastoff! And Missy Elliot prepares to be launched into space via the new space shuttle, Polis Neptunis. She is decked out in the new NASA uniform, but refused to wear the standard issue protective helmet and insisted on her own Gucci cashmere fedora instead. Dont worry folks, the flame retardent, space grade, silver-titanium blended, insulated, regimented suit is enough to keep her safe in outer space. And the bubble she is blowing is merely a demonstration on the weightlessness of air in the galaxy. Her hand is digging in her pocket for some Tang and freeze dried trail mix, not pulling out a frontal wedgie as it appears. And she will be back in a matter of weeks, so please dont concern yourself about her welfare. This woman is suited up and ready to ride. The space shuttle that is.

Theres a Wocket in Kims Pocket

It's so nice not to be subjected to Lil Kims nipples or crotch isn't it? Check out her pin curls and the mink around her neck. Why, she be downright ladylike, that Kim. Almost demure. Subdued. Mature.

Do we miss the implant baring and gratuitous muff shots? Nope. And I thank you, Miss Lil Kim, for wearing a shirt that covers your saline bags and a skirt that reaches past your crotch. I speak for all of us when I say: We've seen your privates once. We've seen it twice. Three times. Four. Five. Six. And now we appreciate your sensitivity to our eyeballs and our fragile constitution.

What I would like to know is, why is she looking more like The Grinch than Jim Carey as the Grinch? Is she auditioning for Horton Hears A Who? That's taking this whole new persona a bit too far. Let's go for something a little less childish, maybe a character from a Judy Blume novel instead of Dr. Suess.

Guess what we just did?

"Hi Jennifer. Just wanted to wish you a happy belated birthday. By the way, Brad is doing great. I gave him a vial of bat blood and some herbs from Borneo and he has been doing better than ever. I also gave him a massage. I learned an interesting technique from a sherpa in Nepal which I wanted to show Brad.

We're going out this afternoon to shop for a gift for you, probably some incense and a shrunken head along with some bovine bones and black flowers. And then the two of us are going to perform a love ritual and burn your negative energy from his soul with hot lava and kava kava juice.

Then we will lay on the beach in front of your Malibu home and make sweet love all afternoon. And by sweet, I mean, wild, howling wolf sex. Thats the way he likes it. We'll go for a ride through the desert on his motorcycle, and then sleep under the stars while the rattlesnakes weave in between our legs and the coyotes dance along side our naked bodies. Well, you have fun at Dave & Busters with Courteney and David. Ill make sure Brad isnt too lonely."

-Angelina

Snaggletooth

Hard to believe this is the guy that makes barrels of money and is considered good looking.
Yes, its Tom Cruise. I love his teeth. I think he should have kept them.

Donuts, Inc.

Really. I'm not joking. John Goodman just signed a deal with HBO to star in the tv show, Even Fatter Actor to compete with Kirstie Alley's show, Fat Actress. And he has been approached by Weight Watchers to be their new spokesperson. Fat is the new thin!

John has gained weight in preparation for his voiceover work doing children's movies. Its very taxing and he needs to bulk up. In order to get ready, he is on a diet of Thin Mints and triple cheeseburgers and can often be seen at Krispy Kream donuts eating two, three, four donuts at a time. Those cheeks have a lot of room- it's deceiving, but he can actually store a half dozen at one time. He lines his pockets with Twinkies and Hostess fruit pies- front and back pockets. And he just won the world championship sausage eating contest but don't ask him about it because he doesn't like to brag.

My sources tell me he carries around a cooler with milkshakes and cans of soda along with a basket of fried chicken and biscuits from the colonel. John is trying hard to tip the scales at 400 lbs. and is fiercely determined to beat Kirstie at her own game.

Ahoy matey, Peg Leg Lopez on the runway

Fresh from the runway, it's the new Jennifer Lopez line of clothing! Quick, rush to your nearest TJ Maxx clearance rack and there you will find the J. Lo track pants marked down from $59.99 to $7.99. But if you arent able to do that, you can order her clothes online.

If you are in the market for clothes like skinny, low rider, hip hugging pants, or tight, short tops and belly baring tanks, she is your girl. I was going along in my life, shelving my crop tops and throwing out my tight, white pants and never, ever wearing white shoes before Labor Day and then Jen Lo goes and breaks all my carefully thought out fashion rules. She laughs in the face of bad fashion and gives it a name and that name is J.Lo.

White pants are usually as flattering as wearing a pair of control top tights in public and I don't care who you are, white pants make you look fat. Yes, I'm talking to you. Fat. Even if you're not. And white isnt a good idea if you go sans panties, FYI Paris and Tara. And short shirts? Uh, no. Unless you have six pack abs which most of us don't. The white shoes? Nice. But not in February unless we are talking winter white, which is actually more of a cream.

I am not a big fan of hair severely pulled back from the head, it is very sumo wrestler. And is it me, or do Jen's legs look wooden, as if her knees don't have the hinges to bend? Close your eyes and imagine her trying to walk down the catwalk not bending her legs, like a pirate with two peg legs. Now open you eyes and look at the photo again. See what I mean?

Dirty birds of feather...

I smell something. What's that odor, threatening to deteriorate my nasal passages? It can only be one thing. The sweaty pit odor of a day old wife beater that belongs to either Kid Rock or Cletus. And in this case, it's Kid Rock.

On the set of Charlies Angels a while back, my dear friend Julius, was working with Cameron and the other angels. Apparently, Cameron doesn't care for shampoo, body wash, soap or deodorant. She also could care less that she leaves white flakes on her dark clothes and has skin that resembles a "before" photo on the ProActiv website.

I have had the opportunity to hang with Kid Rock before and while Bob ( he makes me call him that) can be very nice, the scent of this man leaves much to be desired. I tried anynomously to mail him some Irish Spring bar soap, Bvlgari bodywash and Cool Water aftershave, but he prefers his own manly, musky scent.

So you should be grateful that this photo is not scratch and sniff. However, if it were, we might be able to resurrect the Garbage Pail Kids trading cards that were so popular back in the day.

Friday, February 11

Somewhere over the vodka tinged rainbow...

A few weeks ago, after a night of swilling highballs in the Rainbow Room with Leon Hall, Liza Minelli rolled out of her bed and cracked her head against the floor. Her bodyguard promptly called the hospital and Liza was proclaimed all right, thank goodness! The world waited in silence as we held our collective breaths. She was going to be fine. Which makes me wonder how one can fall out of bed, unless she was sleeping on a balance beam.

The only side effect of the head thumping was that she awoke thinking she was a supermodel, not a senior citizen, Studio 54 groupie, cabaret singer and muse to gay men everywhere. On the day of the Marc Jacobs fashion show, she woke up and grabbed her pale gray blanket-turned-dress with the kimono sleeves and wrapped herself in the necklaces David Guest left behind when he vacated her premises.

She pushed and shoved her way backstage to pose for the cameras, telling everyone she was really 5'10 and a runway veteran. She then announced she was coming out with a swimsuit calendar for 2006. Except instead of swimsuits, she will be wearing nothing but tunics. Talks are in session with Hugh Hefner for a Playboy spread. We can only bide our time and anxiously await that centerfold. La la la....

Yeah. It's me that keeps calling and hanging up, so wipe that puzzled look off your face, Kate!
Saw your mother recently and I think you know my feelings about her. I have to tell you, she was coming off a carbohydrate hangover and it wasn't pretty.

Aww, is that Ryder? Do you you know it's okay to cut your childs hair? Its perfectly fine, really. I even encourage the trimming of young childrens tresses. I dont understand why mothers let their little boys grow their hair. Oh...are you into Kabbalah? Because then you may not cut his hair until age three. Once, when I was with Madonna, I tried to encourage her to cut Rocco's hair. I even pressed a pair of Playskool scissors into his hands and told him to have fun. Didn't work.

Nice pigails, honey. I know what a drag it is to style and flat iron and curl and hot roller hair every day. Bravo for not washing your hair. Im glad you slapped a couple rubber bands in it. I hear Chris likes greasy hair anyway so it all works out.

Cinch sack

Just when you thought Bai Ling's clothing choices couldnt get any worse, she took the extra strength Hefty trashbag out of her kitchen garbage can and wrapped it around herself, securing it with a brooch. She left wide openings, so she could reach her hands into the pockets for a piece of Orbit gum and I was stunned. She made pockets, too?

This photo was taken at Chuck E Cheeze, you know when Chuck E comes out and dances? And I only know this because Catherine and Michael invited me to their son's party last year. They had gift bags made out of Godiva chocolate with gift cards for Sephora as goodie bags. I thought that was a perfect way to end an ear splitting evening in hell. And by hell, I mean a place where there are children and noise.

Anyway, Bai decided to put on a little show for the kids and she proceeded to writhe and jiggle on the floor which made everyone but the fourteen year old cashier with zits the size of pepperonis uncomfortable.

I just stood there with my mouth agape wondering how she came up with the brilliant idea to fashion an outfit out of a trash bag. She is clearly onto something.

Hey y'all! What up? I just wanted to show y'all this pickshur of me n' Kev. We was at Details. I had my assistant call up that magazine and I was all, "You's gotta put mah Kev on the cover! He has real style, y'all. He like, cuts the bottoms of his pants off all by hisself. And he like, always wears these head wraps and big, unlaced shoes. He's like, so trendy!"

Y'all, he loves Guchi and Puff Daddys clothes and we might even git him on the cover of Vogue. Seriously, like you know? He should totally be on the cover of every magazine, even like Oprah's magazine! What it called? U?

Innyway the people at Details was like, aw-ight! We gonna put Kev on the cover. And I was like, jumpin' up and down and Kev's like, take yur shirt off baby and I did. So when we got to the shoot, they had to pick Kev's hair for somethin' called lice? And thats when we took this picture. And this girl wanted to shave Kev's beard I was like, oh no you don't! Y'all that shit is sex-ay! And then I was like, you gotta hold Bitbit! Make Bitbit a cover model too. And then Kev said somethin' about deep fryin' Bibit and dipping him in a bucket of bar-be-que sauce!

And poor Bitbit was shakin' y'all. So I had to feed him some Red Bull with a dropper and crush Fritos up real small like, and feed him. And then I told Kev to put Bitbit in his arms or else, I would like, not give him anymore money and I was gonna take away his car, y'all and I'd do it too, but he held Bitbit and now both mah babies are cover men! Y'all!

And guess what? Kev is gonna design his own line of clothes. Yup. He's gonna be the next Armuni. Gotta run, y'all. Look out for the magazine soon! Buh bye!

MK phone home...

True story:

ET was beamed back to earth recently. He is often confused with an Olsen twin but if you look closely, the shape of the head gives him away. He usually hides his long red finger behind a grande cup of Starbucks coffee but today ET is going out in a bluish colored pea coat and a dark brown wig with enormous sunglasses. He is taking a chance with someone noticing his glowing finger but if he tucks it into his coat sleeve, no one will know.

And I hope they are on their way to eat a pizza and garlic knots. There must not be good food available on ET's planet. He looks very very thin and needs some carbs to insulate and warm him.

Let's play a party game. It's called "Guess My Crack". Which celeb do you think this might be? You get three chances to get it right.

I don't get it. I really don't understand Jennifer Lopez (that's Jenny from the block, to you or if you prefer to go by her formal name Jennifer Lopez -Noa- Judd- almost Diddy/Combs- almost Affleck- Anthony) and her clothing choices. Did Marc stumble out of bed and with his silk sleeping mask still over his eyes and randomly pull shirts off the hangers for Jennifer?

A hooded sweatshirt, a plaid-shirt/jacket thing with multiple zippers in random places and an arm band with the letter F and then a ball cap and earrings that could double as handcuffs? What? Huh? And is that a belt hanging off her shirt too? Its a jigsaw puzzle of bad fashion.

The gold purse probably cost more than my last eye lift, but does nothing to enhance the ensemble. The burnished brassy carryall looks more like a gym bag from the planet Mars than a purse, and it does not make good fashion sense. Metallics are like, so 2003.

I hear from my inside sources that Marc chooses all Jens clothes. So we have no choice but to blame him.

Fashion Week, a must have

This New York city fashion show goer wants to let you know that the new trend for spring of 2005 is a pocketbook in the size, shape and color of a hay bale. It's called Farm Chic and you would be wise to dust off those overalls and brush up on your square dancing.

Also the flavor of the season is a squirrel pelt neckline and shiny cranberry pants. These must be worn with the hay purse. Just so we are clear, the bale should be large enough to accomodate one Olsen sister, folded up, knees to chin, sans Venti cup from Starbucks. I have mine on special order. You might want to hurry up before they are all sold out, and the only thing available is the burlap seed-sack hobo bag. Those are for the lower tier of fashionistas.

Don't Forget My Invitation!

I Brad, take thee Angelina...oh wait. That cannot possibly be real. The ink isn't even dry on the divorce papers yet! They havent even filed for divorce! The nuptials are going to have to wait a little while unless Jennifer wants to fly down to the Dominican Republic for a quickie divorce. If she would like, I'll be happy to accept an all expense paid trip down there to drop the papers off.

But will we see the Brad/Angelina union in the near future? Don't count on it. Take deep breath and have a seat. Get yourself a glass of water and take a sedative. What I am about to tell you might upset those with sensative emotions...

He has been rumored to be dating model April Florio. I know its not what you want to hear, people. But my paparazzi friend, Luigi, took a few photos of him and April getting coffee together the other day in Los Angeles and it looked serious. This time around he is looking for a more maternal, less career driven woman to spread the Pitt genes.

While we can only continue the candlelight vigil and repeatedly burning incense and casting magical spells, I'm afraid Brad and Angelina just are not meant to be.

However, I'm available to both. So just, you know, call me. Either of you. I have birthing hips and a wicked tongue so I could really be utilized a couple different ways to suit each of their needs.

Katherine Grass

Who was the brilliant modeling scout who saw this photo, snapped their fingers and cried out, "Thats it! She is the next supermodel! Just look at her! Stunning!" Believe it or not, that girl with the feathered bangs and freckles across her nose is Kate Moss.

Dancin' With Himself

Just leave him alone with some lotion and he will be ready in five minutes. Billy Idol just can't get enough of himself. He's so into touching his skin that his trademark snarl has turned into a tongue wagging drool. Even his forehead is tense. He must really enjoy running his ringed fingers up and down his six pack abs. His body is not bad for a middle aged singer who now plays to a full house at the karaoke bar down on Sunset Strip.

The voices in his head are singing, "I Touch Myself" and he is publicly acting out the lyrics for those who can't hear the music. Can't you get arrested for such behavior? I think you can. Let's check with George Michael.

Thursday, February 10

Just beause she dated Chris Isaac doesn't mean she can wear a nearly naked costume and get away with it. Bai Ling should be issued a ticket for indecent expose and a terrible choice in clothing!

Hasn't anyone ever told her it's not proper to use a cloth napkin as a bib? Especially when a bra is not being worn? Let your eyes travel souther and be grateful for the hot pink undies- crotchless of coourse.

Interesting jeans, what happens if I start pulling at laces? And those earrings? In a pinch they can be used to remove cork from wine bottles. Basically, I believe the gagging expression on her face is in reply to Jessica Simpsons Bananas Foster body balm. I know, Bai. Makes me gag too but then again so does your top and pants so there you go.

A foppish man-about-the-town

This is the man who is somehow qualified to pass judgement on the red carpet goers. His name is Robert Verde but its Bobby Green to you and me.

I would like you to take note of his jaunty fedora with the hot pink satin trim, propped against his bald head in a jovial position. Please do not forget to take a peek at his fingerless gloves in a multi-colored star print in shades of turquoise pink and coral, which match the knit scarf carelessly thrown about his neck. I believe this is Geranimals for the adult male.

As you will see, the scarf and gloves are in perfect sync with his bluish turtleneck and bright strawberry blazer. And what, pray tell, is in the aluminum foil suitcase under his arm? I'm guessing its a couple of floral dresses with crinoline underlays and lace collars hijacked from the Betsey Johnson collection to wear when he comments on the fashions at the Oscar Awards.

Yes, that really is Goldie Hawn. And yes, she really is sporting a double and triple chin along with a gigantic beaver fur-chinchilla coat and a haggard sallow complexion. She attempts to go undercover with her big black glasses but I can tell its her. And I see ruddy cheeked Kurt in the background sporting feathered porn star hair and sunglasses from 1977.

Look- yes, I'm still bitter about not being invited to Kates baby shower. I thought we were all friends, after all, did I not invite you to spend a weekend with me at my chateau in the south of France last year and offer use of my cabin in Sundance as well as my ski passes?

And then you blatently dissed me, not extending an invite to the shower for Kate and Chris. I suppose now I can admit that it was me that put the Ex Lax into your cafe au lait that time I ran into you on Melrose and "treated" you to a coffee at the Coffee Bean.

PS. You look like you're coming off a carb bender and trying to disguise your white bread bloat with a coat that would make PETA throw a can of (Private) Benjamin Moore at you.

It's really nice when a mother can get to second base in public with her daughter and it's captured on film for all the world to witness. Thanks Sharon, for showing us how close you and Kelly really are. Lovely!

Gee Kel, I almost didn't recognize you with your ebony hued, mushroom cut, Dorothy Hamill hairdo. Bangs in your eyes or are you going incognito? I dig the little red bow on the side of your head. Nice touch. Really creates an innocence about you I haven't seen since your armpit stained green shirt with the peek a boo neckline and the Helly Kitty purse.

And I think its darling the way you did your makeup, circular pink dots on your cheeks and ruby red lips just like a big Raggedy Ann minus the red hair and calico blouse. And the Wicked Witch ruby slippers. The whole effect is very Betsy Wetsy meets south side tranny meets Betty Boop meets blow up doll.

Sharon, you dont look very festive. Your stoic face reminds me of the time I came over and had tea with you and your dog pooped on Ozzy while he was passed out on the couch taking a "nap". You looked at me and shook your head, offering me another cup of tea and a turkish delight while Jack reluctantly got the pooper scooper and tossed the fecal matter over the fence.

Ahhh, the good old days, the days when you would have felt me up instead of your own flesh and blood.

Thar she blows...

Jessica introduces new products to go with her already digusting line of cake batter/vanilla extract scented makeup. Here she is demonstrating her pixie stick dust, just pucker and blow. No, not like that! She doesn't do such things, get your mind out of the gutter!

Just in case you can't get enough of smelling like a day old bakery cupcake, help yourself to some "Dessert" from Jessica Simpson. Now available for your body! Yum. So you can wash yourself with Betty Crocker and smell like Duncan Hines. Because we all want to be sticky and reek of cloying confections that curdle your stomach with gooey, iced body wash.

Then slap on some candied yam scented lotion and finish it off with a big dusting of saccharine powder. Who came up with the genius idea of smelling like bubble gum and leftover birthday cake with buttercream frosting? Did Jessica, rider of the short bus, create this gross product of her own accord? I think not.

Again, we can thank Preacher Joe Simpson for whoring out another aspect of his daughters life, this time encouraging us all to smell and taste like a bucket of an aged Halloween candy.

I didn't know pigs could have camel toe

To stop the insanity of Star Jones and her ominous fart cloud of pretention, please contact the folks at E!~

http://www.eonline.com/Help/index.html

and don't forget to mention Distressed Jeans.

Wednesday, February 9

Kevina Federline

If Kevin Cletus Earl Federline was a woman, this is what he would look like. Notice the do rag, the white tank top, the low riding baggy pants and the shoes without laces. Also, note how her hands are down the back of her pants.

All she needs is a few essential items: A pickup with a gun rack, an unfiltered Pall Mall dangling between her lips, a bag of Cheetos in her hand, and then she would be the long lost sister/girlfriend/alter ego of K Fed.

I hope she isn't looking up to Cletus as a fashion icon. Because if that is the case, she has made a dreadful error. She forgot to cut the bottoms of her pants off. Hacking them with a dull pair of scissors (while high) would remedy that in no time.

I just wanted to share this photo of Kev Fed with y'all. You can see the Hanes wife beater knotted around his greasy head, the cut off manpris and the shoe polishy white sneakers, unlaced and unvelcro-ed. Its a sad state of affairs when you cant even velcro your own shoes.

Camera Diaz

For the cost of a double knuckle sandwich and a trip to court, you too can have your photo taken with and by Cameron Diaz! You may even get lucky and see her throw an Oscar worthy childish hissy fit. If she spots a camera pointed in her general direction, she will throw down her purse and fly into a rage. "Point and shoot" has a whole other meaning for Cam.

I like the outfit, especially the funky belt (anyone know where I can get one like it?) but when I saw her in those Uggs, well, I lost all..I wouldnt call it respect...well, I just shook my head to myself and wondered why she too got swept up into the trend of wearing Uggs. They may very well be comfortable, but so are my Spongebob slippers and you don't see me wearing those with my jeans at the mall now do you?

Gettin' Piggy With It

Star: A globular cluster of gases.

What a flattering outfit! A baby blue track suit is an excellent choice for the full figured woman, almost as good as satin. Just a viewer precaution: before, after or during viewing this photo, please be aware you may come down with any or all of the following: anal leakage, detached retinas, vomiting, cramping, headache, seizures, loss of appetite or high fever. If any of those should occur, please avoid all red carpet shows broadcast from the E! channel, and do not set your television to ABC during the hours of ten to eleven a.m.

Now, moving along, I beg you to ignore Puffy Jones Reynolds nipples showing through her tight shirt, and the obvious camel toe that sent me into a gagging fit and dizzy spell. You should be advised to pass over viewing the upper legs, especially the part where her thighs seem to overlap and create a visable combustion of fleshy friction.

Who came up with the idea of wearing high heels and a track suit? Paris, was it you? WAS IT? Oh, wait, I have an instant message from a GAYREYNOLD04...the high heels make it harder to walk in, perhaps causing a slip or fall that may damage her ability to walk or hopefully speak... huh. I wonder who that could be from?

For those of you who would prefer to have Star rolled up in the red carpet (rather than reporting from it) and thrown overboard in the middle of the ocean, I urge you to write to the E! Channel and request my red carpet commentary. For those two of you who consider Star a witty and kind hearted woman with good looks and a fine figure, I urge you to not read this blog anymore.

WHALE WATCH 2005

Just in case you might be in the market for a wig....

Young Hilton sisters, teenage years. And their mom. She's the one in the middle.

Hilton sisters now, after some plastic surgery (?) and an application of cosmetics with a paint roller. And of course, forty five sessions in the tanning bed since December. Where else can you get your skin the color of a terra cotta pot?

Smokey and the Botox

I guess there was a time when Burt Reynolds used to be considered sexy. Remember that Cosmo centerfold? I don't. But he was a big deal back in the day.

Now it looks as if he has lived on the plains of Oklahoma being wind whipped and sun burned, rained on and fossilized. He should have never left Loni. *sigh* Once that marriage broke up, his looks went downhill faster than an Olympic skiier. Either he has been through a full regime of Rogain or had his toupee maker add some salt and pepper to his wig. He was bald as a cue ball only a couple of years ago.

The only thing on his face that is smooth is his forehead which features the shine of a botox addict. But check out his eyes. Ouch! He's got more crows feet than a - well, a crow. The skin around his eyes resembles the crepe paper that hangs from the ceiling of every baby shower I have ever been to. I suspect a brow lift, an eye lift and a possible face lift, but clearly its fallen again.

His lower lip is the color of the liverwurst my mother once made me eat. Maybe he should take a page out of Amanda Lepores book and wear a little MAC. His chin reminds me of a rock thats been tumbled downstream a couple of times.

I urge everyone to stay away from gold colored blazers unless you want to be confused with a Century 21 realtor.

William Hung, Redeux...

I was scrolling through some photos and found this one, taken at Fashion Week in New York City. I thought to myself, WHAT is William Hung doing there while I'm here? Where is the fairness in that? Should I be sitting at my desk while he is getting first pick at the new line of couture? Not fair.

I almost smashed my "Hung for the Holidays" cd until I noticed this was not, in fact, William Hung, but a man named Mickey who wears the same simple smile, slump shouldered pose and mismatched clothing as William. What fooled me was the heavy framed glasses and the necklace along with the blue shoes .

Honest mistake. My apologies.

Special Interview...

"Girl, if you wuz gravy, I'd sop you wit a bizkit."

And that's the pickup line that hooked Britney. That Kevin, he is quite the poet and I was fortunate enough to conduct an interview with him this morning over a tin of Royal Copenhagen and two Slurpees. I'll let Cletus take over and tell the romantic story of how he and Britney became husband and wife. Kev? Kev? Cletus? ....He appears to be partly awake and keeps rubbing his eyes which remain at half mast and his hair is tucked up into a ratty scarf tied at the nape of his stubbly neck where I can detect a trace of ring around the collar. Note to self: tell him about OxyClean. His skin is sallow and a string of red acne lines his jaw bone. I resist the urge to pop a seriously ripe whitehead and tap him on the shoulder.

He clears his throat and begins to speak in a soft voice, "Yeah, so I wuz a dancer on her video- what was it?- I dunno, G. I was blazin, you read? She wuz all over me. We went to her crib yo and was kickin it wif the hydro-ponic-chronic, ya dig? I told Brit I wuz comin' up short, and she wuz aw-ight. Gave me some c-notes to pay off my hoo ride, my weak ass car that wuz gettin re- re- repos- repozeded. I ain't got the dividend to pay fo it, exspecially wif Shar saying she pregnunt wif my chile. So, Brit bails me out.

Then I wuz sweet talkin her, showin her my herbs, you read me, G? She was all into the toke. Then she wuz up in my bizness, I can't splain it. She jus wanted to be wif me, even wen I was blazin. I tole my boys that we's gonna be married cuz this chick, she says she wants to buy me a freakin' car and a house. She knew I wuz a playa but, I dunno. Brit, she wanted me. Once I got some poo nanny, I wuz like, Shar who?

So I says, girl, ya feel me? And she's like, dude lets get married. In track suits. And we can grub on chicken fingers and have bekfast at Dennys. And I'm like, aw'ight. And then, I wake up and we's married, dude.

We just kick back and I can't splain it. It's like we wuz just meant to be together."

And then Kevin Cetus Earl Feds face fell like a crumpled bag of Cheetos and he looked at his watch and muttered that he had to leave. He stuck a Pall Mall in his chapped lips and turned to go, leaving in his wake a sickly stench of unwashed armpits and onions.

Let me say that Im grateful for the chance to sit down with Kev. Even if I didnt get the opportunity to ask him about his "singing career". Next time.

Tuesday, February 8

You make me feel like a natural tranny...

Don't be jealous. So what if her lips can open jars? They can plunge toilets and clean windows too. They can be a soft pillow to lay your head upon when you get sleepy. They can save lives with their floatation device capabilities. In a pinch, they can be used as a baseball glove.

This is gorgeous creature is Amanda Lepore. You know her as the transvestite, drag queen, party girl, transgender performer and all around talented persona that hit the scene in the early 90's. There really is no one like her...er...him, ahh... it.

Her lips are really store bought, the kind that come in a plastic package at Party City made of wax, painted with a roller and then polished with a gallon of MAC Lip Glass. Does anyone else look at this photo and think of starfish on a beach ball? Inflatable rafts? Joan Rivers?

I'd like to see a photo of her before her skin was stretched, pulled, sandblasted and tweaked, before her eyes were pulled higher and tighter than the waistband of my pants, before the cheek implants made of synthetic plastic were in place, and the chin and jaw were chiseled. I think she may have been a nice looking young man.

If cotton candy and Pepto Bismal got together with Hubba Bubba the result would be Missy Elliots outfit. She is at Fashion Week, do you think she might have been able to pull clothes together that don't make her look like she should be dishing ice cream out of the window of her Good Humor Truck? I suppose not.

Its very nice of her to show us how big she can open her mouth with a licorice whip. I've always been curious about her oral talent. No I haven't, just kidding. Although her open mouth is pretty suggestive. When there are cameras around, close your pie hole. Rule number 43 from the Distressed Jeans Guide to Fashion Etiquette.

I was told she is on her way to the circus where her blazer will come in handy for Pickles the Clown and her ripped jeans will be perfect for the guy who shovels elephant dung.

Hannibal Lactating

I present to you, Anthony Hopkins. I refuse to put that phony "Sir" in front of his name. If I must, then I would like to be called Countess Distressed Jeans. Also, I refuse to call Elton John "Sir" but that's a personal issue.

I for one, think its marvelous that Anthony is willing to act as Julia Roberts wet nurse and breastfeed Hazel and Phinn. I mean, just look at his man boobs. They serve a very important purpose. And how great is he, gaining weight around his belly just to comfort Julia and all the other actresses out there who may feel a little uncomfortable with their pre/post pregnancy weight gain? He is an actor and a gentleman.

I see he is trying to grow out a mullet just to prove he really is one of "us". Except by being one of us, (you know, the cool people)- he shouldn't be wearing woven loafers the color of baked beans. No offense, er..uh..Sir.

Thou shalt not go to Playboy parties

The troika of Simpson men- Preacher Joe, Nick Lachey and Ryan Cabrera are partying it up at the Playboy Superbowl Party. Looks like Pa Simpson is having a pretty good time by the look of it. hard to believe this man used to lead an entire church in following the word of the Lord. Seems like he might have abandoned the part of the bible that says, "Thou shall not covet." He's coveting. For sure.

Nick: " Oh lord, please don't let Jessica find out I'm here. Please don't let her find out. I will be so dead if she knows I've been hanging out with the Playmates. Oh man, is there a camera around here?"

Ryan: "These babes are so hot. I could have any one of them. Ashlee who?"

Father Joe:"Jessica should totally be Playmate of the month. Aside from that MTV deal I got for her, I could talk to Hef and sign a deal for her. Plus she has bigger breasts than any of these women. Wheres a camera? Someone get a picture of Nick with a Playmate. Anyone? C'mon! Then Jess will divorce him, move back home and have those crazy pajama parties with Britney, Mandy and Christina just like before she married Nick. Hahahahaha!"

Marmoset Lips

I still don't understand why Ashely Olsen insists on pooching her lips out like a little monkey. It's annoying.

There is nothing else about her that I find objectionable other than that smirky grin. Her hair is nice, makeup is tasteful. I don't understand the tooth on a chain necklace, but no one is perfect (except me and Angelina, of course) and then we get to the lips and what-?

Maybe she is puckering her lips in anticipation of a Starbucks venti latte, nonfat of course! Is there a surgery that can remedy that expression? Smile, Ashely, smile! You have wallpapered your apartment in thousand dollar bills and sleep with a pillow stuffed with five hundred dollar bills, think you can crack a grin now and again?

For the safety of others, if you are not wearing panties, do not bend over

I wanted you to experience the full flavor of Tori Spelling's window treatment inspired outfit. The domanatrix detail of the top of the ..is it a shirt? ...a dress? Let's call it a dress and pray she is wearing undergarments or else I hope there's sanitary strips on the chairs.

The poof of the front is exactly like the valance I have over my french doors. And the skirt part of the dress, very ice-skater chic. I feel like Tori is wearing a smock and should be holding a paint brush standing at a canvas with a beret on her head. Not the most flattering of dresses. I have to say. And refering to the previous post of Paula Abdul (scroll down), looks like Tori also suffers from NRS.

Tori is at Fashion Week in chilly New York. She has bare legs. See, this is what I am talking about. Sacrificing warmth for the sake of fashion. Keep it in mind next time you reach for the L'eggs pantyhose in Shimmery Taupe. Think of Tori and go au natural.

Arf! Arf!

Oooh, look at the dog! Don't get cheeky, I'm really talking about the little dog wearing the designer jacket. I just dressed my bulldog, Anna Wintour, in a stovepipe hat and ballet shoes. I love it when people put clothes on their animals, don't you? My dog also has a Kate Spade bag and her own little Starbucks cup. So cute.

Day of the dead

Speaking of a stylist, she looks like she might have crawled out of the crypt using her black talons and a spoon, but Patricia Fields is right here, in fine form.

So what if she is sporting maroon sausage curls and poop colored lipstick? Yes, her teeth are nicotine stained, but really! Duh people! She's working as an extra in the new Tim Burton movie! Don't judge her by her graying sallow skin or her drawn-on eyebrows. Come on! You're so mean!
She is a serious fashion icon, former stylist of Sex and the City, working on Faith and Hope? Ring a bell? Yeah, I thought so. Patricia is highly esteemed, she is the one who came up with Sarah Jessica Parker's running shorts and high heels ensemble. Her signature horse shoe pendant. Oh please, I could go on but I won't. Patty is kind of shy when I rave about her creations. Judging by her photo, you can tell she's kind of quiet, no? Oh, Patty...Would you please give Sarah a call? Did you happen to see her polka dot dress, she needs your help. Before the Oscars, preferably.

SAG is for Seriously Atrocious Gown

Sarah. I'm really disappointed in you. Ever since I saw you with your jeans tucked into your boots, I felt a little something in me die. And then when you showed up at the SAG Awards... ((gulp)) I just lost it. I don't think of you as my fellow fashionista anymore, Sarah. I've got to be frank with you, dear.

Is that a choker with a brooch or your husband's tie, strategically placed to hide a hickey? Is it attached to the gown or is it a separate item? And your dress..if you connect the dots, a drawing of Kim Catralls face will emerge. True. And if you are bored, you can play a mixture of checkers and backgammon on that dress.

And that is all great but what is the use for the fabric hanging off the back? Is that so if the dress rips, you have extra material for an emergency patch? Or you could remove the material and create a little cover up. A tissue? A napkin? Okay, Sarah. I get it now.

But the crimson shoes? Where did they come from? Don't you think a sleek black Jimmy Choo would work better? I'm drawing my own conclusions here and I think you fired your stylist.

Mrs. Butterworth wants her hat back!

Cover of Details one minute, wearing a do-rag and manpris the next. That Mr. Federline is so talented. I can see this kid going places. Did you know he wants to be the Vanilla Ice of the new millennium? True. A friend of a friend who works at Smashbox in Culver City knows someone who knows Kevin and that is the word on the street. Get ready, people. I feel a single coming on, something rappy with lots of synthesizers. I'm told the new record will be called, "Cheetos in da hood". I smell a Grammy.

Poor Kev. I don't think he was ever taught how to tie his shoes. What other reason does he have to always leave his shoes untied? I guess we should be thankful he isn't wearing Uggs. Good call, Cletus.

Sunday, February 6

Tara Read

It is obvious to see Tara Reid is taking herself seriously these days. Taking it to a new level after she announced she really is extremely intelligent and will take on quality movie rolls. And to that we all say, Amen sister!

This photo was snapped moments after she was splitting an atom and simultaneously discovering the time-space cortex and the secret of time travel. She is not just all beauty people, she's got the brains too. Its not all about jello shots and big droopy boobs and bathtubs full of vodka and bumming smokes off male models. Just look at her!

That is not a haggard, wasted party girl whose date for the night just took off without her and she was forced to go home in the back of a car with only a box of Puffs as company.

You know where she is going? Not to another club, don't be daft! She is headed to the nearest Barnes and Noble so she can comfort herself with the entire collection of James Joyce while listening to Mozart. I'm sure you knew that.

Star Buck Olsen

Do you want to know something so ironic and funny? Well, even if you don't, here goes. I rolled out of my 800 thread count sheets crafted in Egypt this morning and just happened to throw on the clothes I was wearing to clean the house yesterday. (Housekeeper is on vacation, such a pity when I have to vaccuum my own carpet!)

What I dressed myself in is identical to what Mary Kate "hobo chic" Olsen is wearing in this photo. Coincidence? Serendipity? Divine Intervention? Call it what you will, but when I pull on my old gray drawstring sweatpants with my ratty sweater and slippers and trillionaire Mary Kate ends up wearing the same thing, its like we are living in a parallel universe and it scares me. And I have those same huge blue beads. I bought them at Target, if anyone is interested. And I consume loads of Starbucks coffee drinks. Non-fat, decaf soy, extra hot, venti in size but in a grande cup with one packet of sweet n' low and one wooden stir stick and two sleeves.

I've been wearing my Jackie O sunglasses since last summer, so who started that trend, I ask you? Me! Thank you very much. And I once dyed my hair reddish brown and used molding paste to make it look dirty. But it really was clean.

I have this reoccuring dream where I am in public without the benefit shoes on my manicured feet, the thought frightens me. It's very odd, not to mention impractical, that she willingly goes out of the apartment wearing thin dirty slippers. What if she stepped in a nail or in a puddle? I hope for her sake she has a change of footwear with her, maybe in one of those leather duffel bags she shleps around with her. Oh, I'm forgetting, she can just afford to go out and buy a new pair. Nevermind.

Y'all got some jerky treats?

Seriously. This is the all new, cleaned up, Kevin Federline wearing what I can only guess is borrowed clothes from the wardrobe people at Details magazine. Why does he have his half-dog, half-rodent love child on the cover with him, I'd like to know? Because the white of the dog matches the white of the polka dots?

This is the cover of a magazine, couldn't Kevin allow his five o'clock shadow to be Naired off? I know what you are thinking. If it werent for the dog, you wouldn't even know it was Cletus. Where are the baggy XXL manpris? Where is the burning cigarette in his hand? Why isnt he wearing a skull cap and a sweatshirt? Why is Details magazine trying to trick us into thinking Cletus can be scrubbed clean and put on the cover of a magazine and people will buy it? How did he land the cover anyway?

I suspect it was because Brit picked up the telephone and asked if, "Y'all had a spot on the cover for my hubband, Kev Federline? Huh? He brings his own food, no craft service table for him. Just a six pack of Red Bull and a bag of pork rinds, y'all. Oh and can my son, BitBit come too?"

And the brilliant minds behind the magazine looked at each other, and after they stopped laughing, agreed it would be a fabulous idea to place Mr. Spears in the February issue and if nothing else, men would buy the magazine to see just how Cletus Earl landed Britney Spears with the lure of trashy trucker caps and unlaced hightops.

Shut up and Show Me the Money

Cartoon bubble over Al's head:

"Im just doing it for the money. In two years, I will be a free man, I can go to the turkish baths whenever I want. Im just doing it for the money. Money. The money. Stay focused on the money. Darn, I wish she had worn a tighter necklace. We should have done the sky- diving when we went to Dubai. Maybe I can push her out of a plane another time. Isnt this woman allergic to something? Focus, Al! Money..."

SATIN IS NOT YOUR FRIEND

I was so pleased to see Star "I married a gay man" Jones wearing satin. Why, you ask? Because glossy fabrics are so unflattering. Satin is unforgiving, it shows every ounce of fat, every bulge, every piece of blubber that is not properly contained in a girdle, right there under the fabric like wiggling puppies under a blanket.

I suppose Star thinks she is beyond the assistance of a stylist which is a pity because someone should have told her that the Mesopotamian necklace resembling a chain link fence should not be worn with the neckline of her dress. Then again... I heard that Gal Reynolds strongly encouraged her to wear very heavy neckwear that fit snugly around her throat and featured a tricky clasp. He also forced her into her into a too- small, torso constricting corset, wedging her in with powder and oil and promises of donuts after the show.

Rumor has it that Meredith Viera arrived to "help" Star with her hair. Meredith was extremely persistent in roughly combing Star's hair back from her head and pulling it tightly into a bun which was secured with a sharp clip and misted with noxious, ozone depleting hair spray, which was "accidentally" sprayed in Star's face.

The dress is rather ill fitting across her ample bust. Anything that pulls the fabric taut is not becoming to the wearer. (In other words, perfect for Star!) And the various bulges? The center seam? (((evil cackle)))

I would like to suggest a gown that is even more form fitting for the Grammys! And bigger, heavier jewels for around her neck! And much, much a tighter bun!

Oui, Oui!

Seriously, these have got to be the best looking ugly people I have ever seen. You know what I mean?

He looks like he dropped in from filming a Matrix movie with his sinister black cloak. I'd like to point out his funky penguin footwear. And Johnny, how about a nice shave and a good haircut? You can be so hot! Remember when you were on Oprah? You looked good, my man. What happened?

She looks like she is wearing someone's tuxedo jacket. She pinned a Carrie Bradshaw flower to her dress and then topped off the outfit with a sequined beanie. I guess it's nice to see they are not caught up in couture like some people I know (seriously, actors can be such snobs about clothing!). And I think it's totally cute how they both coordinated their footwear.

Friday, February 4

PIGS DO IT BETTER

Tired of men who can't keep their pants on, Halle takes things a step further and gets down and dirty with a piglet. This just proves the old addage is true, "You can never trust a man, but swine love is forever."

Nice Bicuspids

Joe Pantaliano is showing off his new dental implants. Nice, huh? I appreciate the wide smile and the curled under top lip which gives us a good view of his gumline.

Nope, no tartar or gingivitis there. He must floss everyday. Thanks a lot for the special viewing of your teeth, though I must say your acting on the Sopranos was a wee bit more interesting than your oral hygeine.

Vicodin Vixen

Paula Abdul suffers. Suffers from what is referred to in the biz as "Nancy Reagan Syndrome" (in the medical community it is called NRS-1001, please refer to the American Medical Journal, volume 3403, 2004). You know it. You've seen it. You may even have it yourself and not know it.

It's when your head is of disproportionate size to your body, like that boy from Mask. Please refer to exhibit A, Paula "Vicodin" Abdul. Tricked out in her neon, fandango pink LizWear blazer and her florabunda, elastic waist, tapered pants, we can only surmise that Paula was high on a Special K/GHB cocktail when she was rummaging through her track lit walk-in closet. You know the one, with the flashing strobe lights and an automatic soundtrack that is on constant replay of "Forever Your Girl". Yeah. She was going through that when the horticulture pants jumped out at her.

Oh, but I digress. Sadly, a side effect of mood enhancing drugs is a swollen cranium and an affinity for gold plated bangles and glittery earrings. Not to mention slurred speech and half open eyes, witness yourself by staring at the above photo.

Sleepover at Eltons!

Elton John is really quite the fashionistic duel tasking dresser. What a freakishly brilliant idea to pair his dressing gown with his John Paul Gaultier suit. All thats missing is his knitted sleeping cap and his black silk slumber mask.

To undercompensate for Eltons garish display of bed-wear, his "gal pal" shimmers in a merlot colored suit with a skinny 1980's Chess King tie.

Why, as soon as he gets home and into his sequined trimmed, pink velvet bedroom with the gilded gold sleigh bed and leopard print pillows, it's off with the pants, jacket and tie and right into the Liberace sheets, wearing his satin blended polyester button down nightie. Except he does leave the shoes on. I know this firsthand.

Last time I slept over, we had a delicious pillow fight and drank bellinis till the sun came up, and then I lounged on his white baby grand piano while he banged out a sleep deprived version of Benny & the Jets. If you are ever invited to a slumber party at Eltons house, I strongly suggest you go. If for nothing else, to view the Bobby Trendy inspired bedroom.

Thursday, February 3

It's so nice that Julia is such a hands on mom that she has a nanny for each of her kids. Pretty much, she doesnt want to deal with the twins if they are cranky, crying, tired, screaming, sick, defacating, urinating, need a bath or change of clothes, out in public, time for a bottle, need to be burped. If they are awake and in good spirits, she might spend fifteen minutes of Quality Time with her kids. Other than that, she sleeps, takes a yoga class and lays on the couch, counting off her million dollar bills while Danny Moder paints her toenails. Meanwhile, her bodyguard/nanny takes care of Finn and Hazel.

I've seen Debra Messing out walking with her son, Roman, and she totes a bottle of water, keys and her nanny where ever she goes. Why? So she doesnt have to deal with her kid like a regular mom who has circles under her eyes and slumped shoulders from holding a heavy baby with a soggy diaper.

I've been out shopping in Beverly Hills and have bumped into Courteney Cox with her nanny and her daughter, Coco Chanel. The nanny holds the baby, pushes the stroller, buckles Coco into the car and feeds her.

The only thing these moms seem to do is hold their children if the photo op is right. Please.

You might be thinking this is a decorative topiary being wheeled out for the adornment of the SAG Awards but you are wrong.

This is a giant ball of dung being secretly rolled toward the awards show by a disgruntled William Morris assistant. In hopes of offending the snobby upturned noses of Hollywoods elite, she is covertly diguising the odious turd ball as a moss covered circle which will be placed at the entrance to the awards show.

One by one, each actor with sniff around, annoyed that their delicate rhinoplastied noses are being assulted with putrid air. "What! I should never have to take in such foulness!"

The assistant will be snickering in the bushes, only a few yards away, thrilled with finally giving the famous celebrities exactly what they deserve for treating mere mortals with rudeness and disregard. Havent you ever been in the same room as a Famous Person? If you have ever had the pleasure, you will understand exactly where this assistant is coming from.

Tara Reid. If you look closely, you might be lucky (I use that word loosely) to see her casaba melons, ripe for the picking. She is going for Star Jones Chic, a trademarked term, meaning Fur Coat. And by fur coat, I'm not referring to a beaver. I'm talking about her jacket; her hamster-ferret-hyena blend fur.

I hear she's placing classified ads in the LA Times to find a man. Nothing attracts a quality guy like drinking and drug use, not to mention big drooping boobs that resemble Squidwards nose on Spongebob Squarepants. The bleached blonde hair and a mean case of syphilis is a surefire way to attract potential suitors when writing a personal ad.

I hear Nick Carter is looking for love too. Do I sense a match made in popstar C- lister heaven?

Wednesday, February 2

Me and Kev, we was like, at the pool y'all. And Kev's like, "Hey baby, git over here and show me how we can git started makin' dem babies." And Im all like, "Cletus Earl! Not at the pool!" and then he looks at me with those spaced out eyes and I'm all, "I just gotta do it right here, you know, y'all? Like if he goes to see more dancers with bigger boobs than me, y'all, I dont know what I'll do. I gotta put out when he wants it."

And I gotta tell ya, Ashton Kutcher came over last night and I'm all, "Oh mah Gah! We's bein punk'd!" And like, I thought he was gonna tell me Kev's got like another kid or somethin'. But Ashton gave me this red string. I think its got somethin' to do with Ke..ka..Kebla. Or Kab-ab-bob?

Inyway, we's got these red fertility bands now! Now Im gonna git preggers with a baby, y'all! We's bin tryin' for a long time now. It's gonna happen soon, y'all. I'm gonna name her Taffi Jean! Or Cletus Earl Junior. BitBits gonna be a big brother!

Oh, dagnabbit. Now we's gonna haffa git another baby carrier thingy. No mind. We can strap it to the back of Kev's motorcylcle. Y'all, I cant wait to have a baby! But where do those things come outta?

Have you pooped today? I thought I recognized the side clutching, twisted colon, cramped position. Nicky, how many times do I have to tell you - nicotine and lollipops are not found on the recommended food pyramid. Neither is Jaegermeister no matter what Tara Reid tells you!

I see your skin is lighter than its usual terra cotta hue. Means one thing: you need Colon Blow. I hate to recommend anything I havent tried, but Mary Kate insists it will clean you out so well you will be able to lose ten pounds in an hour. You will feel so much better and then we can meet at The Ivy for crab salad and mint iced tea. Then we can go next door to Kitson and flash our American Express Black cards and laugh at people who cannot afford to buy a four hundred dollar belt buckle, just like old times.

I love this womans makeup/paint job and her flourescent Kool Aid hair. The dragonfly ...well, its too big to be a pin. I guess its some kind of lawn ornament to keep the pigeons away from her colorful sequins, embroidering and beads that draws small animals and low flying airplanes to her bright and beckoning gown.

Check out the unibrow, drawn on with a mascara wand and a fine point pen. I have that same eyeliner color, except I dont smear it on with a pastry bag. Clown cheeks? Who cares! It would look silly if some part of her face wasnt painted on.

I want to point out, however, that her salmon lips and strawberry hair clash and that, and that alone, is what causes me to take a moment and reconsider her nomination for Best Dressed of the Week. Darn it, Zandra, if only you went with Silver City Pink, you would be a shoo in.

Mrs. Shapiro, who plays canasta with my grandma in Boca, wears the same skirt as Beyonce and also belts it so that it poofs out and makes her look like her hips are as wide as the heavy brocade draperies that hang in the seniors center. Do I detect a bustle under that skirt?

What a coincidence. Except Mrs. Shapiro pairs hers with a daffodil yellow tunic. I think Beyonce is taking a bold step in wearing something so unflattering. And mature. And ..well, chartreuse is never a flattering color on anyone. And the shoes, the silken lime green prom shoes, are ugly in a "Payless shoes with a clip on brooch" kind of way.

Mrs. Shapiro dresses like that too, except she also wears plastic earrings in the shape of palm trees. Why are you dressing like a sixty five year old retiree, Beyonce? Oh you're making a video? And the new song is called Ugglyicious.

Britney Spears just finished breast feeding her hairless newborn, Bitbit. Then she tucked him into her bra to keep him warm where he promptly peed on her to which she replied, "Aww, he's just like his pappy, Cletus!" Then she went to Starbucks for a Frappacino.

Please note the red string around her wrist, courtesy of The Kutch. Britney has not been applying her ProActiv, see the zits on her chin? Id like to let her know that the drink has a lot of sugar in it which is not good for her complexion. And Id also like to follow that up with letting her know I can see her bikini line on her neck. SPF 45, Brit. Take care of your skin or you will look like the beefy jerky you and your husband like to snack on. Love ya, hon!

Last night I had dinner with Ashton over at Dolce where I was treated to a wild mushroom red wine cream reduction over gelding shanks served with baby imported white eggplant roumalade chutney with a truffle garnish. Dee-lish.

Although I was a little uncomfortable when Ashton reached across the table for my delicate wrist and attempted to tie a red string around it. "Look, Im just not that into Kabbalah." I informed him yet again. Tears welled up in his eyes as he tucked away the white track suit he had for me. "Sorry, Kutch." I said as gently as I could. He hung his head low and mumbled something about Demi.

I suggested he contact Britney who is clearly seeking spiritual guidance. The next day he shows up wearing this shirt which proclaims; "Hollywood Rednecks". I think its a subliminal way of saying that he strongly supports the Federlines with the gun rack on their pickup truck and the dueling banjo doorbell and laundry hung out on a rope in the back yard of their Beverly Hills home.

I would not be surprised to find Cletus and Brit wearing all white outfits with red strings tied around their tattoo-ed wrists.

I know this is conversations about FAMOUS people, but Im going to throw her a bone and pretend she is a real celeb. Jen Shefft must be reenacting the water bottle scene with Madonna from the classic Oscar winner, "Truth or Dare". You must drive those men wild with your fellatio pantomime! Well, with the exception of Fabreeze. I thought for sure he was going to come out of his perfumed closet last night.

Does anyone else besides me watch this show? Heard the rumor she picks Ryan, although Jerry is the hot one, with his mussed hair and reality show credentials behind him (don't you recall him flirting with Lori on Real World? When he was a door man at Harry Winston? He dated someone from Big Brother 3....draw your own conclusions. Fame Whore! Fame Whore!).

Hey Jen, lets see you deep throat the water bottle again! Chris Harrison said the ratings will go sky high if you perform your tricks at the next rose ceremony!

I don't know about you, but I've been on the advance buying list at Amazon for Kathie Lee's new book for seven month and its finally here. I'm just hoping to get my copy autographed. Keep your fingers crossed for me, people. And if Im lucky she might treat me to her donkey-braying laugh that goes like this: "Hahaha.. HA HA... eeeek!"

The title of the book is called, "The Family Under The Bridge" and is about a group of sweatshop workers making thirty cents an hour piecing together polyester blend fabrics for some place called Wal Mart. I guess the family barely has two nickels to rub together and must live under the bridge, thus the title.

I cant wait to see what kind of journey the family goes through in this heartfelt novel that combines hard work, sore fingers, poor lighting with bad health due to unsafe working conditions. All to create a line of womens clothing. Sounds intriguing.

I hear the Olsen twins are coming out with a similar tale, but I can guarantee they wont have a forward written by Regis or illustrations done by Gelman. And of course their audio book will not have Cody reading aloud.

OH YES! Im thrilled. Seriously, Ive been waiting since 1987 for spandex leggings to make a comeback and here Kirsten Dunst gives us the thumbs up to bring out our gym attire! Yeah! I swear, theres nothing like the feeling of tight fabric against my legs, daring to chafe my thighs under a crinkly skirt. Paired with moccasins? Excellent. Sweaty feet are always good.

Tomorrow Im going to take a gander into the box in the garage marked "Highschool" and dig out my Capezio leggings. Im going to pair them with my prairie skirt and ankle boots, toss my Jordache bag over my shoulder and wear a banana clip in my hair. But not before teasing my bangs and wearing a single white glove.

We are in debt to Kirsten for going where no woman in her early thirties has dared to go before: back to highschool fashion. Rock on, fashionistas.

We could totally use Kate Moss' legs as shish kebob skewars. Have you ever seen anything so perfect for roasting marshmellows on? So skinny! Geez, someone please, get this girl two dozen munchkins and a strawberry shake.

Do you think Kate has taken a glance in her full length mirror lately? How do such skinny legs hold up her torso without her head bobbling over? That is some scary shizzle. I love Kate's bohemian style and her choice in clothes, but her legs are skinnier than my arms and quite frankly, she frightens me. Do you think her knee bones are as sharp as knives? Careful if you hug her, you may cut yourself on her shoulder blades. And I do mean blades.

My sources in New York City tell me that Kate loves the nose candy. I dont know if its true or not but shes on a steady diet of lettuce and ice cubes by the look of it. She been Mary Kate-ed.

Melissa Rivers, I wonder what she would look like without her plastic surgery? Probably like a undomesticated farm animal with a donkey tail and hooves.

Her and her mom, Joan, look like they have arrived from another planet, Planet Plasticus Surgicus. I wonder if they get a twofer at the surgeons office at this point. I know for a fact that
Joan does not own her own nose or cheeks, implants from a cadaver have been put in place with her own skin sandblasted and polished over it. True story, kids.

Im glad to see Melissa's face hasnt been pulled as tight as her mothers- yet. This is a wonderful photo that illustrates why some people should have side swept bangs. I can see my own reflection in the shiny movie screen that is her forehead. Botox much?

Tuesday, February 1

PUT IT BACK IN YOUR PANTS- pocket that is. And Im talking about his Revlon Cherries In The Snow lipstick. What kind of wierdo goes to court sporting prostitute lips like that? Dont answer.

I'm wondering how he gets his hair so black and straight? Didn't he have an afro fifteen years ago, how does he get it so straight? He must have a really good flatiron. I hear he uses Redkens Str8t gel. Gothic Ashlee Simpson raven black hair is not a fair complexions friend, he needs to hit the tanning bed with Paris Hilton and get some color. His skin is the color of uncooked chicken.

And what's up with the eyebrows drawn on with a Sharpie pen? One look at this guy and the judge is going to bang his gavel and announce "GUILTY." Guilty of being a freaky fashion disaster!

Courtney Love. Talk amongst yourselves.

I was at the airport three weeks ago where I was on a flight from the Caribbean to LAX. I was sandwiched in between an old man clutching a barf bag and a hefty woman who smelled of red onions.

Anyway, when we landed in LAX, I sent my driver to pick up my five piece LV luggage while I went outside for some fresh Los Angeles smog filled air. I thought I saw two Hare Krishnas wearing flowing white pajama pants and dirty slippers.

As I rubbed the smog from my MAC- lined eyes, I realized it wasnt two Krishnas, but the Olsen twins dressed like hobos with very expensive leather shoulder bags.

Call me crazy, but if I were a jillionaire like they were, you better bet I would be decked out in something very cute and comfy for a plane ride. And what are they doing at LAX anyway? Dont they have their own private airport and jet on call? John Travolta does and he wasnt even on Full House.

Hey Debra! Bend over! Lets see if you used that double stick tape that J. Lo uses! Wait- I see headlights. It must be cold in the TRL studio. Hmmmmm. WE KNOW you are sporting the post-infant breasts, Deb.

Is it me, or does Debra seem a little high on herself? A little too confident for my taste. Not wild about her geranium pink cheeks and matching lipstick. Or her straight hair, I like the curls. Im not a lover of satin (unless we're talking sheets and then bring on the silk, the satin, the candle wax, the whip and..oops, Im getting carried away!) as a fabric for clothing.

While I think Debra has a nice smile, theres something about her that bothers me. Does it bother you too? Discuss.

Who propped Glenn Close up in a straight-back chair and arranged for her to pose like Grandma Moses? I do believe this photo was taken while Glenn was working on the prairie. She was tired from milking the cows and churning the butter and walking down the dirt path to the General Store where she bought sassafrass candy and sasparilla juice. Shes just relaxing and reflecting on days gone by.

Can you just picture an old dog laying by her slippered feet on a well worn braided rug? In all seriousness, I would not be happy with the photographer if he set me up to look all pensive and ...old while wearing a prairie skirt, denim jacket and a turtleneck to hide the aged folds of turkey waddle that was my neck.

("Denim? Did someone say denim? Me loves denim!" No Colin Farrell, Im not speaking to you!)

Daryl Hannah just won an award for her fine, fine body of theatrical work. Who can forget her performance in Splash? When she squealed, that moment was priceless. As a performance artist in Legal Eagles, she was brilliant! Bravo, Daryl! And then there was her fabulous role in...oh wait, I mean, she was so great in...uh, er..well, she is just splendid. In whatever it is she has been doing. I guess. I dont know. Why is she getting an award? Its not for her fashion sense. Daryl appears tired and pale. I would suggest a hair cut because her hair is long and stringy, sort of like Kid Rock. And once you are over like, fifteen years old, satin is not your friend. Satin shows off your every bulge, fat cell, ripple and roll. Daryl may have just woken up in her nightgown, rolled out of bed and was brought to the awards ceremony where she is clueless as to what she may have done to get herself recognized. We dont know either, D!