Roseanne Barr makes a move on George Clooney, saying:
"You're really good looking, why don't you take me out behind the stage and make me stink."
Clooney, to his credit, didn't go instantly insane and run out onto the nearest freeway searching for the front end of a fast-moving truck.
So I figured it was about time to update you on the fabulous celebrities that are coming to the Kentucky Derby in a few weeks, but after a search of the web all I could come up with was:
Bobby Flay doesn't really even count, because when he comes to town they make him cook and that's more like being hired help.
Anyway, the thing about Derby is that it's all about tradition, so I went back to a list of 2001 celebrities. I'm guessing that, by and large, they're the same celebrities that are coming this year, too. So here's the insider scoop:
As always, there will be a special guest appearance by Meat Loaf.
I, by the way, will be attending Derby this year corporate style -- assuming I don't get fired between now and the first Saturday of May. Look for me on the first turn. I'll be the dashing fellow wearing blue seersucker and a straw boater.
Oh, wait: come to think of it, that's how most of the men will be dressed.
Lindsey Lohan has signed to play a sex-addicted waitress in the upcoming movie Florence. She's being paid $75,000 and her contract apparently specifies that nudity is required.
'She just wants to remind people she can act and she’s worth hiring,' says an insider at Star Magazine.
So, to recap: former female child star ages, drinks too much, starts failing to show up for work, bombs repeatedly at the box office, has public tantrums, does a stint in rehab and announces she's making her comeback in a movie in which nudity is contractually required.
Next stop: disastrous and embarrassing marriage to either a much older rich guy or a surly bad boy.
Maxim's readers voted Sarah Jessica Parker the "unsexiest" woman in the world. I, personally, believe that no woman can qualify for the unsexy playoffs until she weighs at least 300 pounds and wears stretch pants. It also helps if the unsexy contestant keeps a disapproving scowl on her face at all times
It would be a funny scene: A helpless guy is getting yelled at by his boss, played by Mariah Carey. He's trying to keep his eyes up but he can't help himself, and looks down at her chest.
She slaps him.
"What are you looking at?" she shouts.
"Nothing," he whimpers.
He looks back up at her eyes and she goes back to berating him. Eventually, he can't help himself. He struggles but his eyes are drawn downward. She slaps him again.
"What are you looking at?" she shouts.
"Nothing," he whimpers.
Etc.
Lindsay Lohan met her former boyfriend, Riley Giles, in drug rehab. Theirs was a storybook love affair -- until it ended after a short time and he sold the anatomical details to a British tabloid for a "hefty" amount of money.
The first time we had sex I couldn’t believe I was looking down at Lindsay Lohan naked...Lindsay is so hot. She has a great body. Her backside is fantastic, perfect, all plump and round...Lindsay would tell me she loved me and I’d say that to her, too ... And I don’t say that to a lot of girls.
Of course not. That would be classless.
I finally got around to listening to the recording of Dog the Bounty Hunter's "racist tirade," as it's being called. I've never been a big Dog fan, and when I come across him surfing the far reaches of the cable spectrum I marvel that I live in a country where people with hair as bad as Dog's are allowed to roam free and even carry firearms.
Now that I've listened to the tape, the thing I wonder about most is this passage:
I don't care if she's a Mexican, a whore or whatever. It's not because she's black, it's because we use the word nigger sometimes here. I'm not gonna take a chance ever in life of losing everything I've worked for for 30 years because some fucking nigger heard us say nigger and turned us in to the Enquirer magazine. Our career is over! I'm not taking that chance at all! Never in life! Never! Never!
It's like prophesy, an exact prediction of things to come. And, on top of that, a textbook example of bad risk management.
Think about it: Here's a guy who knows that if his casual use of the word "nigger" became publicly known his career would be over. And yet he continues to use the word. Some compulsion, some horrible arrogance is so strong that he can't simply stop using the damned word and avoid the risk he dreads.
I have a theory with my kids. I teach them that there are things you don't ever do, even if it's OK to do them sometimes, because at other times the consequences are too dire to accept. For example: touching the burners on the stove. Sometimes they're still hot, even though they look cold black. If you touch them then, you lose a few layers of skin and go to the hospital. If you never touch the burner, you never misjudge whether it's hot or not.
One might imagine that Dog, knowing as he clearly did that use of the word "nigger" at the wrong moment would cost him everything, would simply banish it from his vocabulary. I imagine him standing in front of his bathroom mirror one morning, teasing his hair into the telegenic horror that is his trademark, and saying to himself:
I am my own brand. I make millions of dollars a year. I get to pal around with minor celebrities. If anyone were to hear me use that word again it would be over. I'm never, ever going to say it again.
But for Dog, the compulsion was too strong. He couldn't resist. He just had to.
Why was that? The edginess of it? The macho fillip one gets when one violates convention in a particularly offensive way? Or is he just so racist that he can't contain himself?
Whatever, it's over for Dog. I hope he's been saving his money, because he's on the county fair freakshow circuit from now on.
I thought that bastard had pulled himself out, but maybe not:
Michael Jackson will lose his Neverland Ranch in January if he fails to pay a $23 million loan, it has been claimed. The faded pop superstar is on the brink of seeing his infamous home being sold, after being given 90 days to meet a final demand on the heavyweight debt
Then there's this:
Court papers were filed on October 22, after Jackson’s loan with the Fortress Music Trust, expired 10 days earlier. Earlier reports suggested Fortress was trying to sell Jackson’s loans amid refinancing, but appears to have lost patience. The orginal loan was secured against Neverland, but is separate from a $US300 million loan secured by Jackson’s stake in Sony/ATV Music Publishing.
FoxNews.com, which first broke the Jackson story, adds:
Without Neverland to fall back on, Jackson technically would be homeless. He still owns his parents’ home in Encino, Calif., but it’s filled with relatives. Jackson also has a $4 million mortgage on that piece of property.
Meanwhile, Jackson will be seen looking mighty ivory on the cover of December's Ebony magazine. I'm guessing he's pale like that because he's scared nearly to death.
You have to hand it to defense lawyers: They're always coming up with something new.
Take, for example, Pamela Mackey, defending his-whole-career-is-a-fluke actor Vincent Margera, who plays someone called "Don Vito" on something called Viva La Bam, which is apparently a show on MTV. (Does it strike you that we have entirely too many "celebrities" these days? Isn't there something we can do about that?) Appearing at a shopping mall skate park (all the biggest celebrities appear at shopping mall skate parks) in Lakewood, Colorado, Margera groped a few 12-14 year old girls. His defense? That as a professional actor on a public appearance...
...he took on the persona of the outrageous and profane Don Vito. Mackey had said that Margera, a car painter, learned that the crazier he acted, the more his fans loved it.
He was pinching a 12-year old's tiny boobs because he was acting! He's not a pervy old man! He's a professional giving the people what they want.
Yeah, the jury didn't buy it either. He's going to jail.
We here in Kentucky appreciate the British royal family because it's nearly as inbred as we are, but with worse teeth. Still, the soon-to-explode royal scandal over a sex tape and phone-photos of cocaine use begs a question which I will get to in a minute, after we wallow in the tawdry details:
well-known socialite on the London club scene has been named as one of the alleged blackmailers behind the royal sex and drugs blackmail plot.
Ian Strachan, 30, of Chelsea, and Sean McGuigan, 40, of Battersea, have been charged with attempting to blackmail the royal over video evidence, in which an aide allegedly claimed the royal performed a sex act on the assistant.
Which leads me to believe that maybe this is a lot about nothing, since having a drug-taking assistant bragging about getting a little from his or her boss doesn't seem exactly credible. What would you think if you heard, for example, the entirely fictional statement below:
Oh, yeah. The Queen did me. A million times. She can't get enough of the Old Bruiser.
"Old Bruiser" being a nickname for the entirely fictional penis, above.
Anyway, if you heard someone say that you would think, "Bullshit," unless you were a tabloid reporter in need of a story. I, personally, am not putting a lot of credence in the original, underlying scandal, which wouldn't be getting a lot of attention except that we live in a depraved celebrity culture that knows no limits. For example.
All of that said, It's not the scandal that is interesting about this. No. What's interesting is: How, exactly, do I become a "socialite"? I think that's a job I would enjoy. How much does the job pay? Are there benefits? (I mean, aside from getting watch pretty people vomit.) What are the educational requirements? Is there a certification process? Do you need to fill out an extensive application? Do I have to have an existing drug problem, or can I maybe talk my way into the position by promising to learn quickly on the job?
Can one of you direct me to the website?
