Archive for September, 2006

Grab the Oscar polish - it’s Miller time for Harvey

Published by Rob on September 30, 2006 in Bitches, Celebs, Films and Gunts. 0 Comments

Babesharvey1-1 Oscar winner Sienna Miller. Folks, it could happen.

The Weinstein Company has just scheduled Factory Girl - that long-percolating Edie Sedgwick biopic in which Miller was initially cast, then replaced by Katie Holmes, then cast again when Herr Cruise said nien! to his bride-to-be working - for December 29. This means that gorilla-like studio head Harvey Weinstein will be threatening everyone in Hollywood with cement shoes until Sienna gets on the Best Actress ballot.

Harvey is, of course, notorious for virtually inventing the Modern Whorish Oscar Campaign, and for brainwashing voters into anointing flavor-of-the-month starlets over more consistent, established actresses. It’s why Renee Zellweger got three nominations for three Miramax movies three years in a row, finally winning for her bizarre Ma Kettle turn in Cold Mountain. It’s why “Oscar winner Gwyneth Paltrow” has been a valid epithet since 1999.

This year, Sienna’s competition will likely include those over-the-hill slags Helen Mirren and Kate Winslet, who already have six nominations between them yet have never won.

We’re not suggesting that gluttonous gulps of fellatio are involved in this charade. But we will suggest that getting Sienna Miller’s name even mentioned in Oscar buzz columns necessitates at least a Harvey Handy.

Does Harvey have a new blonde muse? [GoldDerby]

Chenoweth cracks down on Sorkin

Published by Rob on September 27, 2006 in Bitches, Career Suicide, Celebs and TV. 3 Comments

50933913.jpgOld Navy pitchwoman/demented sprite-from-hell Kristin Chenoweth - whom some have confused for a talented star of stage and screen - is fightin’ mad at ex Aaron Sorkin, whose awful new show Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip is allegedly based, in part, on their relationship.

I was unlucky enough to sample Studio 60 the other night. It’s another self-righteous dramedy in which Sorkinbots fire rat-a-tat dialogue at each other while walking down hallways. Only this time it’s about the creators of a Saturday Night Live-style sketch comedy show. And no one on it is funny.

Out-of-the-closet thespian Sarah Paulson plays a sprite-like star of stage and screen - who happens, like Chenoweth, to be a devout Christian. Bradley Whitford plays a showrunner whose arrest on drug charges has sullied his career. Unlike Sorkin, who was busted for crack possession, Whitford’s character was a cokehead. So it’s totally different.

Anyway, on the show, Paulson’s character is having an affair with the showrunner played by Matthew Perry, so it’s worth noting that Chenoweth was briefly a cast member on Sorkin’s The West Wing. Basically, then, her allegations that Sorkin has cribbed liberally from their real-life experiences as a couple are probably totally accurate, and Sorkin’s incredibly smug assumption that America’s TV audiences are hungering for the inside dirt on his relationship with Kristin Chenoweth makes us despise him and the show even more.

Truly, cancellation cannot come soon enough.

6:46 PM: Updated to correct my mix-up of Perry and Whitford’s characters. Jeez, it’s not like I was watching sober.

Kristin Chenoweth tells The New York Dog Magazine she wants 10 percent from her ex, Aaron Sorkin [Yahoo!]

Star gets her closet in order

Published by Rob on September 26, 2006 in Bitches, Celebs, Gunts, Music and Star Jones Reynolds. 2 Comments

star.jpg
What with all the fun surrounding Rosie O’Donnell’s lesbianification of The View, it’s sometimes easy to forget our emaciated raison d’etre, Mrs. Star Jones “I Wear Unemployment Like a Balenciaga Wrap That I Refused to Pay For” Reynolds.

Luckily, now that Star Magazine (quelle ironique!) has reported
that Big Gay Al is “shaving his beard” for good, La Jones Reynolds has fully re-immersed herself in her full-time side-job of Bitching About Stuff.

And check out this statement from her rep!

Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds have tried to handle these vicious lies and attempts at character assassination with quiet dignity for far too long…now they will pursue immediate legal action against anyone who makes false statements about their family.

Quiet dignity!? Whoa, Mary! Star could turn a routine gynecologist’s visit into an occasion for self-righteous grandstanding, an anecdote about a near-death experience, and a tearful thanks to God, followed by a “healing” six-figure shopping trip to Dubai. “Quiet dignity” has never characterized her “handling” of any “character assassination” of her “family” (by the way, Rep-for-Star, I’d be careful using the word “family” to describe Al in any context).

But it does raise the question: Now that Star - who’s not even employable as a Payless shill these days - offers no visible means of income, how long will BGA stay on the gravy train (and we mean that term in every possible interpretation), before slipping into a hot pink thong and prancing off to Miami Beach with one of Terry McMillan’s exes?

Star Jones: Emotional and stressed out [TMZ]

Still more cheating on this season’s “Runway?”

Published by Rob on September 25, 2006 in Bitches, Style and TV. 1 Comment

sebelia060925_198.jpgWe really want to like Project Runway this season as much as we’ve liked it in the past, but the remaining contestants are all turning out to be psychotic, one-note assholes. (Except for Michael, the button-cute, polite, competent, could-pass-as-gay-or-straight Daniel Vosovic 7.0.)

Now, on the eve of the Final Three reveal (auf wiedersehn, Uli), we hear that the ever-shrewd Laura is accusing sociopath/ex-junkie Jeffrey of outsourcing his sewing.

Another possible cheater?! So soon after the Keith “pattern books under the mattress” imbroglio? What is it with overly-coiffed, somewhat punk-rock white guys and morality in the Project Runway universe? And why do they always get ratted out by their huffy, redheaded castmates?

It’s getting hard to root for these people. Where’s Chloe Dao and her weirdly close-knit, giant Vietnamese-Texan family when you need them? Or even Santino seeking refuge at Tony Ward’s house? I want human interest, dammit!

What’s sad is that Tim Gunn seems so genuinely Papa Bear-supportive of these assholes. I’m already dreading having to listen to the disappointment in his voice on the postmortem podcast if the allegations turn out to be true.

Tim, I know you’re a born-again virgin and all, but if you see this, and you need a shoulder to cry on after disqualifying Jeffrey, give me a holler. I promise you won’t question my taste level (wink).

Internal investigation rocks ‘Runway’ [New York Magazine]

Fa(farazzi), a long long way from fun

Published by Rob on September 21, 2006 in Bitches and Celebs. 2 Comments

smallmasthead2.jpgBecause everyone knows broadsheet daily newspapers are the utmost arbiters of what’s hip, when I saw this article in today’s Boston Globe about a new online celebrity gossip-based version of Fantasy Football, I just knew I had to join.

It’s called Fafarazzi, and it was apparently developed by a twentysomething Boston corporate salaryqueen and his hag. In the game, sad, single women with unfulfilling jobs create fantasy team rosters of tabloid-friendly celebs (Jessica Simpson, Britney Spears and Lindsay Lohan are current top draft picks), who are then pitted against each other, earning and losing points based on the celeb news of the day. Celebrity gossip blogs such as Defamer, Popsugar and (shudder) Mollygood dictate the scores.

Each team has 10 celebrity players, and the teams compete in leagues of 8. There are private leagues composed of groups of friends, or public ones, such as the whimsically named Fafarazzi Whores, which I joined under the team name “pen15_Rob.” Our league has a day and a half to garner three more players, so join now, folks!

As lame as I felt for joining, I kind of can’t wait to see which 10 names are selected from my 29 draft choices, which included such relatively esoteric selections as Mark Ruffalo, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Liev Schreiber and Rachel Weisz, along with more obvious choices like Whitney Houston - ’cause, come on, with that divorce in the offing, bitch is goin’ to be up to something.

Frankly, I wish the site allowed players to dream up elaborate fantasy scenarios. For instance, if my league held the promise of Whitney using Bobbi Kristina as a battering ram in order to break into Mariah Carey’s personal jet and dose her with a dart full of horse tranquilizer, I might be more inclined to check my score every day.

C’est la vie. Who else wants to play?

Fafarazzi
Battle of the stars [The Boston Globe]

Thank God I’m back! But Horatio won’t be

Published by Rob on September 20, 2006 in Celebs and TV. 5 Comments

horatio-headphones.jpgIt’s been a scary week, folks, and I apologize for my MIA-ness. I’ve been mourning the days when we could laugh at Anna Nicole Smith without feeling guilty.

Plus my computer’s in the shop. Fucking iBooks.

Anyway. After months of speculation, it’s been confirmed that Saturday Night Live has fired Horatio Sanz, Chris Parnell and Finesse Mitchell. I’m sad to see Parnell go - between Merv the Perv and his contribution to last season’s highlight “Lazy Sunday,” he’s been a solid presence for many years - but we hear his substance abuse problem made him a bitch to work with.

Mitchell never brought much to the table besides great abs, but he looked funny in drag, and it’s hard to gauge to what degree the show’s white-frat-guy POV hamstrings its black cast members.

But we can all say a prayer of thanks for the decision to ditch deadweight Sanz, whose inability to successfully deliver more than one line without breaking up made him a huge liability. Although those “I’m Caaaaaaarol” skits were amusing in a weird, misogynist-freakshow kind of way. And this does mean that the show will be without a Rosie O’Donnell for its View sketches.

Whatever. With the terminally unfunny Dane Cook blighting the show’s season premiere, we’re not even sure if our crush on Andy Samberg and Seth Meyers is enough to keep us TiVo-ing.

“SNL” drops Sanz, Parnell, Mitchell [Yahoo!]

PEN15 Drippings: 9/14/06

Published by Rob on September 14, 2006 in Celebs and Drippings. 3 Comments

200609142308 Alleged-bian Amanda Peet, currently banished back to TV in the wake of The Whole Ten Yards and A Lot Like Love, has taken a page out of the Marcia Cross Handbook by announcing her pregnancy. The earlier rumors that Peet was desperately trying to hide her knocked-upness from the producers of her new NBC series, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, may constitute an elaborate merkin-ing scheme, especially considering the years-old rumors of Peet’s affair with Sarah Paulson - who happens to co-star on Studio 60. [IMDb]

The smash hit of the Toronto Film Festival - with a serious Best Actor push for Sacha Baron Cohen in the offing - Borat is apparently so funny that our Commander-in-Chimp is paying attention to its potential offensiveness. Oh the irony! [Daily Mail]

Katie Couric’s blog entry makes my eyes bleed a little bit. Use of multiple exclamation points does not a serious newsperson make. [Couric & Co.]

The analysis of Matthew McConaughey’s shirtless PR exploits we wish we’d written. Bravo! [Fametracker]

Cruise and the unitard - Even a porn star couldn’t make this shit up

Published by Jordan on September 14, 2006 in Famous PEN15s and News. 3 Comments

CruisefacialThe only thing that frustrates me more than pearl-clutching hausfraus that won’t even consider that Tom Cruise is a known homosexual are the ones that didn’t even know he was rumored to be gay in the first place. But now, when those bitches balk at my wild accusations with a, “oh, you just think everyone is gay,” I can finally point to some concrete evidence that, at the very least, there are others who think Cruise is a big ol’ fitted t-shirt wearing fag.

Along with Jason Preistly, Antonio “So Sexy” Bandares, Garth Brooks, Randy Travis, and (swallow your food) Andrea Boccelli.

Hollywood insider Paul Barresi is writing a tell-all book profiling Anthony Pellicano, the infamous Hollywood P.I. In the first chapter, which has been exclusively released on Hollywood Interrupted, Barresi recounts the story of a young porn star and escort named Big Red. In several taped interviews with Barresi and in an interrogation by Pellicano (who boasts Tom Cruise herself as a client), Red reveals that he has had sexual encounters with numerous male celebrities, most notably Tom Cruise.

We went into the back of the house where Tom Cruise was sitting on a small sofa. A mat had been spread out on the floor. Cruise, dressed in what looked like a body suit, looked so cute. Either a black or very dark navy blue body suit for wrestling. He had on a little cap thingy, but the chin strap wasn’t attached. Grinning and gloating at me, he said, ‘Strip down to your underwear and play with me for a little while.’ That’s really the only conversation we had. We played. We wrestled. He was nice to me. I mean, he let me win, then he asked me if it was okay if he could rip off my briefs and told me he would buy me a new pair.

The interesting thing about Big Red’s story is that is precisely how I imagined a sexual encounter with Tom Cruise to unfold. In fact, in an odd way, that’s much tamer than I imagined it would be. Big Red even made it out of the house alive, which is counter to the common belief that all of Cruise’s tricks are now touring the country in the Body Worlds exhibit.

I’m not assuming that Big Red’s story is 100% true, but you have to have a bit of respect for a 25-year-old kid who also claims admits to have slept with Garth Brooks. I’d sooner brag about throwing it in Wilford Brimley than disclose the time I traversed Garth’s low places. To me, it just lends credibility to the young, unnamed (and now in hiding) redhead.

Speaking of unnamed and in hiding, has anyone seen Carrot Top lately?

Hollywood Tell-All Book Exclusive: “Pellicano’s Enforcer” [Hollywood Interrupted]

Tom Cruise’s Lawyer Furious, All Over Again [Towleroad]

Lindsay graduates to Level 5 Whoredom…

Published by Rob on September 13, 2006 in Celebs and Waxing Techniques. 0 Comments

200609130759 …with the requisite “flash my pussy while exiting a limo or luxury SUV” shot. We knew this day would come, as it came for Paris Hilton and Bai Ling (you’ll have to search for those links on your own, I don’t have the stomach for it).

In fact, there were strong hints of it last week, when Linds’ summer dress blew up while she was stepping off a boat. Close, I thought, but no cigar. It only counts if you’re stepping out of a vehicle, caught in that spot where the distance of the step forces you to lean back a little, at which point you think “Oh my God, am I wearing underwear?”

Except that last part never seems to quite cross the celebs’ minds, as they struggle to maintain grip on their shopping bags while letting the shutterbugs go Meat Curtain Crazy.

The pathos in this story - and there’s pathos in every Lindsay Lohan story - is that the Virgin Porn-style shaved Susie forces us to believe that she took bully Brandon Davis’ taunting to heart. We also feel obliged to point out that no one who’s ever exited a vehicle “Love’s Sweet Flower”-first has ever won an Oscar.

Lindsay flashes the firecrotch again [Egotastic!]

Lindsay Lohan upskirt: Real or not - is that the firecrotch? [Egotastic!]

Completely unqualified to write about 9/11

Published by Jordan on September 11, 2006 in News and Potpourri. 3 Comments

Media-Hi SunriseI’m so grateful that when I’m asked to reflect upon where I was when 9/11 happened it wasn’t something terribly embarrassing, like in the reeds surrounding The Fenway with my bare feet in a pile of something “just awful but totally worth it for the beejay.” In fact, I was just exiting Roman Civilization 201 a bit early, and am ashamed to admit that I stopped by the poster sale in front of the student union (I just had to have some Belushi on my wall) and ate a chicken salad wrap in the dining hall before deciding to find out what all the hubbub was about. The common-area television set came into focus just as the first tower collapsed, and I bit into my tongue piercing, cracking a tooth in half. Just another one of the day’s tragedies.

I haven’t really read the news today, so I am undoubtedly unintentionally plagiarizing someone more intelligent than I when I comment on the thing I’m having the most difficult time wrapping my brain around: How could any of the souls living on that day possibly comprehend the unholy shit storm that would unfold in the subsequent half decade as a result of that day’s events? I’m trying to remember back to that day and recall what I imagined was to come. It was before I knew words like “al Qaeda,” “burqa,” and “Wolfowitz.” Hell, it was even before most of us had heard of an MP3 player, much less one called the iPod, which wouldn’t exist for another month. It’s funny how something as damn certain as chronology even seems to lack coherence under the shadow of something so much more daunting.

It’s strange. I’ve been inoculated by the frequency with which we see images of 9/11. If I want to try to recreate the profoundness of that day (emphasis on try), I can find the footage online with a few keystrokes, which seems cheap. Today, I would have felt nothing watching the rebroadcasted coverage on CNN.com – that is, if today weren’t so goddamned similar to the same day five years ago. Something about the smell of the leaves in the air, or the breeze through my window this morning pummeled me with a sense of nostalgia bookmarked by two planes flying into two tall buildings. And then, while walking towards Starbucks this morning, I was fixated on the realization that five years ago, 2973 other people walked to work thinking, “What a gorgeous fucking day.”

Aw shoot. I really had other intentions when starting this post. It was going to be funny, making a light-hearted-yet-appropriate reference to 9/11 in typical PEN15 fashion. I was going to write a list of all the things I wish I had done in the five years since, and one of the items was going to be, hilariously, “Lose virginity,” possibly referring to it as a “man cherry,” borrowing from Rob. But you wouldn’t think that was as funny as I did for some reason. Especially now, when all you can think is, “He should really stick to writing about assfucking and crystal meth.”

Tomorrow, maybe.