I feel like it’s really important to say “Still Alive!” right away whenever I am writing anything about Amy Winehouse. I get the same cringing feeling I used to get back in 2007. Whenever I would read the newest piece on Britney Spears I’d scan for the R.I.P. And honestly, my initial response when I read that Winehouse was rushed to the hospital was, “autopsy.”
But during a time that she appears to be doing well (this picture is from a couple weeks ago), she fainted at her St. Lucia villa after running around with some kids. The official cause is being reported as “dehydration.”
I’m totally clean-cut so I’m not down on all the druggie lingo. Is “running with kids,” something like “chasing the dragon?”
“Probably the sexiest woman I know is my mother. She’s an ethereal angel. Nobody looks like that woman. If I could meet my mother and marry her, I would. I would be with my mother now, if she weren’t my mother, as sick as that sounds.”
Shia LaBeouf sharing his secret and stomach-turning desire to bone his mother, in the Playboy article that Kelly wrote about over the weekend.
Can we start composing a list of notable people who actually deserve to be on June’s cover of Vanity Fair? Not that it really matters since the ditz without a deal issue is about to hit newsstands.
Jessica opens up her mouth for some barbecue about how she “never dated a guy that was more simple.” than Tony Romo, and she hasn’t talked to Nick Lachey in years.
Jess also praised the great job her dad is doing managing her career. Her past two movies sped their way to DVD, she’s been dropped by her record label and she can’t remember the lyrics to her songs. But according to her, her career is exactly where she wants it to be, all thanks to her dad. Talking about her manager and father Joe, Simpson said, “I can talk to my dad like he’s my manager, and put ‘Dad’ on the back burner. We’ve been doing it since I was 13. So, at this point, we’re in a good rhythm. A lot of people find it strange, but it’s the only way I know. And I don’t care to know another way, because it suits me. And we’ve done a pretty dang good job.”
Conclusion? Jess’ brain has officially been pickled by peroxide. Click here to read the whole article because any author that characterizes Jessica Simpson as “looking less than slender, holding the microphone like a turkey leg,” deserves our attention and accolades.
Every once in a while I come across a story that blows out all my circuit breakers. Today, this event has occurred.
Jenny McCarthy has teamed up with Oprah. As I take a deep breath and forge ahead, it brings me physical pain to inform you that McCarthy now has a blog on Oprah’s website and is being groomed for her own talk show. Jenny McCarthy. Oprah. It’s a perfect storm of lunacy.
In my hopes that this was all just a vicious rumor I could easily dispel, I headed over to O’s site only to discover “Jenny McCarthy” on the header, nestled in between “Elizabeth Edwards” and “Take Our Recession Poll.” Currently, Jenny’s blogging about giving up sugar. Which is something I did as well. And it’s only a matter of time before she starts blogging about her son Evan’s autism. That’s something I do also. It really bothers me to have things in common with Jenny McCarthy. Like, beyond both of us having ovaries, and I’d be willing to have mine removed if it resulted in this Jenny-O union being dissolved, I don’t want to relate to her on any level.
I think I’ll feel better if I start a list of the things we don’t have in common. She is one of Oprah’s apostles; there is probably a restraining order on file that prohibits me from coming within a mile of Harpo Studios. She blogs about her PMS symptoms; I could never be so hateful. Her chesticles are plastical; mine are fantastical. Oh, and she can cure autism utilizing a magic recipe of sorghum and rice. I am completely incapable of curing autism.
Maggie Gyllenhaal and Peter Sarsgaard tied the knot, making official a seven-year relationship. Again, I thought these two were already married. They wed in Brindisi, Italy and were joined by their daughter Ramona-and how did they not name her Ramonaa?-as well as Maggie’s brother Jake and Reese Witherspoon. In other words, there was a Double Consonant in Surname requirement of all wedding attendees.
Cheers to the happy couple! Now get going on adopting your third world country baby!
Seriously look at that huge spare tire she’s sporting around her waist. Ewwww. I thought Ellen was all about eating right and exercising. Sheesh. What a poor role model she’s become, getting so fat like that.
If you’re reading this far rather than clicking immediately through to the comments to type out a misspelled diatribe in which you call me “FATT,” suggest politely that I “look in teh miror” and make the brand-new observation that I have a large forehead (you will spell it “FOARHEAD”) then you get to know the piece of information I save for only the brightest among my readers: Ellen Pompeo is pregnant. This is her baby bump. And she looks positively radiant. And I am genuinely happy for her.
If you’d like to check out even more photos of Ellen and her baby bump from that day, they’re over here.
Halle got visibly upset with the photogs as they snapped away at her and little Nahla heading into a WeHo restaurant this weekend.
But how could they not take the photos???
We’ve finally found someone more beautiful that Halle Berry, and it’s that little girl. Holy crap she is going to be sooo gorgeous when she grows up. She’s going to have that whole “exotic” thing going on. Seriously Shiloh better watch her damn back, because Nahla’s going to be stealing away all the Beckham boys.