Saturday, 6 October 2012


(OK, are we done? Does my hair look pretty? 
Where's my chauffeur? I want to go home now.)
Photo: CreStock 

Some people are beginning to get a little suspicious of the  "feud" between American Idol judges Mariah Carey and Nicki Minaj.
For weeks, we've been warned that things could get testy between the diva doyenne and the ghetto goddess. O-o-oh, two big egos in one room. It's never been done before. Anything could happen. MAKE SURE YOU WATCH AND SEE!!!

Yeah, well, when a show is in its 12th season and it's starting to get boring, you can't take any chances. You've got to make sure people really "get" this drama message.
And then suddenly, we've got a leaked video of Nicki cussing out Mariah and allegedly threatening to get a gun and shoot her up. Conveniently, and probably for legal reasons, this death threat snippet wasn't actually recorded. On account of it very likely did not happen. At all.

But next thing you know, Mariah is telling Barbara Walters ... Huh? Why the hell is Babwa suddenly involved? Are the ratings really THAT dire? ... that she is beefing up security in case Nicki makes good on this imaginary threat.
And then we're seeing pix of the diva prancing around town, flanked by security guards and a large sunbrella, because heaven knows security guards saved Biggie's life, didn't they? And also Tupak's life, and JFK's life and  . . . well, you get the point. 
Fakery dakery dock. The fakes made up the Glock. 

Editor's note: Yeah it's totally fake. But . . . one moment please, I've just been handed this urgent message from the p.r. reps at American Idol. Ahem. It says: "Yeah but there's still a chance that scary, scary Nicki Minaj COULD KILL MARIAH RIGHT THERE ON AMERICAN IDOL!!!  Be sure to tune in and see for yourself!"


Every time I write something about the wasted talent that is Chris Brown I promise myself that this is the last time I am going to write something about Chris Brown.

Man, that video seemed like such
 a good idea when I was drunk . . . 
And then the little shit goes and pulls a stunt even more ridiculous than the last, so that I am beginning to wonder if he has a personal "dumb-ass-ness" coach. And if he does, he has a good one. 
So today's stunt is Chris's version of an apology for being a two-timing horndog who treats women badly (usually with their permission). What he would like you to know is that he is not a horndog, he's a tormented soul who just "cares too much." 
Yes, well that's obvious, my boy. What you need to do is care too much with just one woman at a time. 
For those of you who are late to the party, not only did Chris fool around with Rihanna while dating Karrueche Tran, but then he ratcheted up the humiliation by taking out a statement in US Weekly announcing that he was officially dumping Karrueche because she was getting in the way of his "friendship" with Rihanna. 
Well I don't know what reaction he was expecting, but what he got was fan outrage. Hate mail. Tears.
Cue the "dumb-ass-ness" coach.

Chris: Man you gotta help me! Errybody is hatin! They sayin I hurt Karrueche and I'm a man-ho!
D.A. Coach: Hmm. Well what you need to do, Chris, is you need to get extremely drunk and make a video. We'll make it look candid . . . except that we'll produce the hell out of it so it looks slick at the same time.
Chris: What? Sorry, I wasn't listening. I just got a text from Rihanna. (Reads text, chuckles.) Hahahaha look at this! She sent me a picture of her bare-naked butt!
D.A. Coach: No I can't look, that would be inappropriate. (Pauses. Sighs.) Ok, fine, let me see.
Chris: Ok that's long enough. Gimme my phone back. MAN I AIN'T KIDDING! So you was saying I should get extremely drunk?
D.A. Coach: Yes, and then we would ...
Chris: Yeah man, that's a GREAT idea! Go get me some Moet and let's get this crackin!
D.A. Coach: (Muttering under his breath) I really gotta ask this dude for a raise.

Anyway, to make a long story short, a video is made, Chris "explains" why he did what he done did . . . and, well, you decide for yourself whether it helped him or hurt him. Click on the link to watch the video at I Just Care Too Much!

Editor's note: Well I watched the video and here's what I think: Rihanna is going to be furious. That girl does NOT like to share. Also, the kid looks like he needs to eat more and drink less. And perhaps record a really, really good song, which is the only reason anyone ever cared about Chris Brown in the first place.


 I'm a country girl at heart. Not in the' Honey Boo Boo' kind of way, 
but in the 'God's Country' kind of way.

This, the view from my kitchen window, is what I like to call "nature's medicine." When I come limping home at the end of a long commute and a frenzied workday, I fill a medium-sized bucket with Mateus and look out at this vista. And within seconds, I can feel the singed and shredded tatters of my soul starting to heal. The front of my home looks out onto one of the busiest streets in Brampton, but when you look out back onto pure greenspace, you can trick yourself into believing you're in the Muskokas. Or Algonquin Park. Or anywhere lush and verdant and completely spiritual. That is the power of nature. That is why I could never live in the heart of downtown Toronto, which is where well-meaning friends frequently tell me I should be living. I once visited a friend in the heart-wrenchingly beautiful mountain village of Watt Town, Jamaica (population 20; 220 if you count the goats), and I thought, "I want to live here!" I opted for this place instead. I think I made the right choice. 
Now if only I could grow an ackee tree down there . . .

Editor's note: She's a bit of a whiner, this one, but I happen to know that she actually LOVES her job, despite and probably because of the long and frenzied days. She loves the work. She loves the people. She loves the intellectual stimulation. But most of all, she loves that it pays enough to cover her rather daunting liquor bills and the mortgage she has to pay to be able to come home and look at this gorgeous view. 

Friday, 5 October 2012


I have to apologize right up front to the men reading this. I realize this is a fairly female-centric blog and there's not much here for you to look at. Except for Sofia Vergara's boobs, below. And also Camille Grammer's boobs, one page back. Other than that, bupkes. So you can stop reading right now, because this post is entirely about diets and cramps and stuff. Don't waste another MINUTE of your time here. Have a pleasant afternoon. Bye now!

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Brazilian supermodel Adriana Lima, one of the pug-ugly crones 
who'll walk the Victoria's Secret runway on Dec. 4.
Photos: Sbukley/

Heheheh, they fall for it every time. This post is actually ALL about sexy lingerie and the ethereally beautiful waifs who model it. But the men can go get their jollies somewhere else. I'm not here to pander to that sort of lustful shenanigans. Unless maybe someone were to anonymously submit a nude photo of Ryan Gosling. In that case, I might make an exception. (My email address is High-res JPGs only please.)

Yes, it's almost that time of year again. No, not Thanksgiving. Really, people. What do lingerie models and Thanksgiving have in common? Have you ever seen a turkey in a thong? (And if you have, did you take photos? Cuz I would buy those. See email address, above.)
No I am referring to the annual Victoria's Secret Fashion Show. It is mere weeks away, and I know everyone is wondering the same thing: How are those grotesque supermodels going to make themselves presentable in time for the big event? They're such gargoyles every other day of the year, yet they are expected to be GODDESSES come showtime. My heart pangs for the poor hideous beasts. 

But hold on! Apparently they have a strange secret regimen to help get them on track, and thanks to some Pulitzer-worthy investigative journalism, Celebuzz gossip website has learned the shocking details.
We're talking diets, here. We're talking working out. We're talking drinking lots of water, lifting weights, cutting out junk food and getting extra sleep. I know! It's just whacko!  

But does it work? Let's take a look and see. Hmm. HMMM! Are those really . . . how can anyone's legs be . . . merglfmph ... erggghh. Must look away ... Urge to kill rising ...  
Why, God? Why do you play favourites? WHYYYY????

Editor's Note: *Yawn.* This is so sad. I have to actually try to drum up some enthusiasm for this boring bloody show, like anybody cares. So here we go: Victoria's Secret Fashion Show 2012 airs Dec. 4, 10/9C p.m., only on CBS. Starring Adriana Lima, Deutzen Kroes, Miranda Kerr, Sajbzzz-z-z-z-z-z-zzzz . . . huh? Sorry! What?

Thursday, 4 October 2012


Here's a little hit of quirky to perk up your Saturday: A trio of adorable kids getting some fresh air in Camaguey, Cuba. 

Judging from the amount of times I saw this scenario, this is how some Cubans babysit their kids. Oh don't worry, it's perfectly safe . . . even if a would-be kidnapper could get them through the bars, he'd have to contend with "Killer" there, on the right. 

 Windows with bars - how I wish I'd had that option when my girls were babes. I'd have saved THOUSANDS on day care!
Of course I'd have had to pay it all back in therapy for them later, but the full-time job I made them get at age 7 would have helped cover it. Oh well, water under the bridge and all that.


Jennifer Lopez, JLo, Casper Smart, Whorrified,
Wait till next week, when we have front-row 
seats at the Romney-Obama debate! 

Photo: Sbukley/Dreamstime 

It was a very special day for two of Jennifer Lopez's "children" yesterday. They got to get all dressed up and go to a Chanel fashion show . . . whether they wanted to or not.  
The event marked a first for daughter Emme, 4,  and for boyfriend Casper, 25. But while Casper was clearly delighted, tweeting photos to all his homies, ungrateful Emme did not seem to be enjoying this age-appropriate outing at all. In fact fact, she looked bored out of her pre-school gourd. Not even the $2,400 worth of Chanel accessories that adorned her tiny body could convince her that she was supposed to be having the time of her ever-lovin' life.

Emme: "But Mommy, you said we were going to the teddy bear store..."
J Lo: "Shh, Mommy had to say that or you would never have come! Now stop making unattractive frowning faces and smile for the cameras."
Emme: "But I have to go pee!"
J Lo: "Well so do I but you don't hear me whining about it, now do you?"
Casper: "I have to go pee too!"

J Lo: "Oh for God's sake. You two are worse than Suri Cruise and Romeo Beckham put together!"

I suppose some might question J Lo's judgment in this matter, but personally I feel sorry her. I mean the pressure is really ON, here. She's not getting any younger and even her child beau, Casper, is getting too big to qualify for the Mom-n-Tot shots the paparazzi love. 
So it's time for Emme to step up to the money-makin' plate.
Sorry kid. You'd better just learn to start liking front-row seats at grown-up events, cuz there's gonna be a whole lot more of this boring shit in your future.

Editor's note: Well this is a case where the photos say it all. Click on these links to see Emme having so much fun she can hardly stand it. 

1: "Yay! Haute couture! Sooo excited!"

2: "More fashion, Mommy! More fashion!" 

3: "Wow! Best day ever!"

4: "Is this even real? Lemme pinch myself!"


It's been fun ... but not as much fun 
as public-bathroom sex with Rihanna!
CreStock photo

Chris Brown has finally manned up and done the honourable thing. Well, not really ... but as close to honourable as this dude's ever gonna get. After publicly humiliating his pretend-girlfriend Karrueche Tran with a string of nasty hookups with Rihanna (who is suffering from that special brand of creeping amnesia only bad boys can inspire), he has decided to let Karrueche down gently. By taking out a frickin' open statement in US Weekly:
I have decided to be single to focus on my career,” he says. “I love Karrueche very much but I don’t want to see her hurt over my friendship with Rihanna. I’d rather be single allowing us to both be happy in our lives.
Which in street parlance translates to "I'm really enjoying whoring around with RiRi again and she seems willing enough, but the public outcry is ruining the buzz. So, hey, Karrueche, thanks for . . . whatever. Later!"


STACY: (Does he love me? 
Is he going to dump me? 
Does he love me?) 

GEORGE: (I'm bored. 
She makes me look short. 
I wonder what the weather 
is like in Darfur right now.)

Photo: Carrienelson1/Dreamstime 

Stacy Keibler, the poor man's Heidi Klum, is apparently worried sick that George Clooney is getting ready to dump her. And I don't know why she'd be worried about that. It's not like he has a history of dating beautiful, much younger women for a short period of time and then . . .  oooh. Wait. Yeah, maybe she should be a little worried.

Sources (i.e. Stacy's so-called friends) are telling reporters the two are spending "less and less time together" and that George is being "really distant." What's more, they say, Stacy "wakes up every morning and doesn't know what's going to happen." 
Well, Stacy, it's not that hard to figure out. There are only two options, really: he's going to dump you now or he's going to dump you later. That's how this Clooney thing always ends. 

Alas, I'm afraid we can't muster much sympathy for you, because you're young and beautiful and you have legs up to your armpits. Also, there's Supermarket Superstars, that fantastic new television gig you just scored, no doubt thanks to the pull George exercised on your behalf. 

For those of you who haven't heard of this soon-to-be-cancelled new show, here's the premise: a group of nobodies lines up every week to try to convince a panel of experts to stock their product in a national grocery store chain. (Woo-hooo, that is HOT! I need a cigarette! Was it good for you too?)

Dear lord in heaven, Stacy. One whole year of giving your body to George and that's the best he could do for you? You might as well have been sleeping with Danny de Vito! Oh well, on the plus side, there's . . .  uhm . . . Dammit, can somebody help me here?

EDITOR'S NOTE: Nope, sorry, I can't think of a plus side either. But hey, just for fun, let's look at some of the other women George has bedded and then dumped over the years.

Talia Balsam
Carole Radziwill 
Elizabeth Daily
Karen Duffy
Renee Zellweger 
Krista Allen 
Kelly Preston
Jennifer Siebel
Kimberly Russell
Julia Roberts

Lucy Liu
Charlize Theron
Teri Hatcher
Celine Balitran 
Lisa Snowdon 
Sarah Larson 
Elisabetta Canalis 

Whew. I don't know how the old boy does it. I'm winded just reciting all of their names . . .

Wednesday, 3 October 2012


 These are NOT going to be getting 
any smaller and 
I am NOT going to start dressing modestly! 
CreStock Photo

There's a weird new trend developing in Hollywood gossip journalism: reporting things that DIDN'T happen. 
Last week, for example, Jay-Z and Beyonce made the following headline in magazines everywhere: "Beyonce NOT pregnant, Jay-Z says" (eonline). Good to know, Jay. And while we're denying, can you also tell me which foods Beyonce doesn't like and list the top ten cities you don't live in? 

Then today, Paris Hilton ... what's that? You don't remember Paris Hilton? Blond hotel heiress? Sex tape? No? She was a big deal a few years ago before she was upstaged by her equally talentless (but curvier) bestie Kim Kardashian . . . anyway, she managed to score a headline this week with this big news: "Paris Hilton Swears She Didn't Kiss a Girl and Her Boyfriend Didn't Punch Anyone" ( Well that's a relief! And since someone has finally noticed you again, Paris, can you also tell us what movies you're not working on and which books you haven't read? 

In other hot un-news:

Kim Kardashian is NOT getting a Walk of Fame star (thank you, Jesus);  radaronline.

Tom Cruise is NOT dating Cameron Diaz (at least not until Xenu tells him to); usmagazine.

Sofia Vergara is NOT getting a breast reduction (actually that one isn't funny, it's very serious. And I predict it will become the most Googled headline ever); nydailynews.


Guards! Find me a bathroom!

CreStock Photos

(Just as he told me he'd be . . . )

Gossip websites are sizzling with speculation that Chris Brown and Rihanna "hooked up" last night. And I don't know what they're "speculating" about, because it's pretty damn obvious what's going on here. I mean, let's examine the evidence.

Monday night: Rihanna and Chris Brown show up at the same NYC nightclub. Brown spots Rihanna and “climbs over two tables" to get to her, peels off his shirt and starts “dancing on the table" for her. The two start “dirty dancing and kissing and being very smitten,” a source tells
Later Monday night: Hormones whipped to fever pitch by all the dirty dancing and shirt-removing, the two reportedly lock themselves in a bathroom together for 30 minutes while two bodyguards guard the door.
Still later Monday night (or more accurately, early Tuesday morning): Chris leaves club at 3:50 a.m. Rihanna makes pointless attempt at nonchalance by leaving "a few moments later."
Tuesday evening: Paparazzi catch Chris sneaking out of the Gansevoort Park Hotel in NYC, the very hotel Rihanna is staying at. (And I hope he took a shower while he was there because I'm still haunted by that "30 minutes-in-public-bathroom" image.)

Well, I don't think there's a parent alive who can't figure out EXACTLY what is happening here. As any of us who has ever had or been a teenager knows, the surest way to drive two kids together is to try to keep them apart. (And that, kids, is the real reason we make you read those stultifying Shakespeare plays in high school. Not because we hope you'll one day start saying "droppeth" and "Hie thee hither," but because we want you to learn from history. Romeo and Juliet? Yeah, that didn't end well, for anyone.)
Anyway, Riri and Chris are getting so much blowback and tsk-tsking about their forbidden flirtations that it is literally making them crazy for each other. 
SHE is clearly not seeing seeing the face-pummelling brute we all remember, and HE, well I don't know what he's seeing but it probably has something to do with booty shorts and tattooed breasts. 
Meanwhile, we are goading them on with our frowning, clucking, Amish disapproval. 
So what I'm suggesting is, let's just stop disapproving. 
Let's stop giving these two rebels a cause. Let's all hold hands as a society and say, "Hey you two, why don't you move in together! With our blessing! Heck, maybe even get married! No, really. We WANT you to!" 
After that, I give them six weeks, maybe two months. 
Because nothing dampens a rebel's passion like permission. 

Editor's note: I wonder if that would really work.
My note: Well it worked for me and my three ex-husbands. 

Tuesday, 2 October 2012


My eunuch manservant has just mowed the lawn and . . . Oh just kidding. 
This is Langdon Hall, the only one of Canada's 50 best restaurants I've eaten at. 
(No, wait, Mandarin. I've eaten there too.)

I think it's important to have a goal in life. And I have just found mine. Well, my goal for this month, anyway. It tends to change fairly regularly. Last month, for example, it was "Try to keep house tidier." That was a boring goal and I am pleased to say that I abandoned it after just four days. Earlier this year, it was: "Read more good books." "Commit to be fit." "Travel somewhere warm and bring home lots of duty-free booze."
Fairly tepid stuff, I must admit.
But as those of you who visit this site with any frequency already know, I do have some jauntier passions. Food, for example. I dabble in cooking and I am practically an Olympic calibre eater. 
When you love food as much as I do, it takes some effort to keep it from getting out of control. Which I am able to do, until mealtime rolls around or until I start feeling peckish. 
Or until I stumble across articles trumpeting, in mouth-watering detail, the best restaurants in Canada. Yes, I am looking at you, Maclean's magazine. 

Maclean's has come out with its list of the 50 best restaurants in Canada. (Note to self: Excellent new goal; become a paid researcher for Maclean's 2013 list!)  Oh, I thought, I wonder if I've eaten at any of them. 
To perhaps nobody's surprise, the answer was no, over and over again. 

I fared a little better with's 50 Best Restaurants list. I'd eaten at one of their picks: gorgeous Langdon Hall in Cambridge. 
However, since I am by nature a "the plate is half empty" kind of girl, I decided that merely having eaten at one of Canada's 50 best restaurants is not enough. Not nearly enough. 
So in the weeks ahead, I am going to second my friends and perhaps even strangers into dining with me at every one of the 10 Toronto establishments that made the Maclean's  and lists, starting with Nota Bene, The Black Hoof and The Stockyards.
I'm pretty stoked about this. I think I may have finally hit on a goal I can attain.

Editor's note: This will fit well with your earlier "goal" of committing to be fit. 
My  note: I am really starting to not like you very much.

Monday, 1 October 2012


 Kelly Osbourne, rocking the 
black-diamond nail polish nobody noticed 
until she told us about it. 
Photo: Crestock
And now from our "Please Forgive Me, You Shitheads" files, we have Kelly Osbourne, coyly calling attention to our gross oversight. 
Yes, like you, I did not notice Kelly Osbourne's manicure at the Emmys. To be frank, I barely noticed Kelly Osbourne. (Although I did notice that she matched her lavender-grey dress to her lavender-grey hair. That can't have been easy.)

Anyway, over the past few days, a week AFTER the Emmys, Kelly has been a Twitterin' fool, repeatedly tweeting that she hopes nobody is offended by her  quarter-of-a-million-dollar manicure.
Well now that you mention it  (over and over again), I AM a little offended.
Because it appears to me to be just sparkly black nail polish. Of the kind I regularly purchase for less than $5 at the Dollar Store. How much better can your sparkly black nail polish be, really?

Well that just goes to show what I know, because then Kells tweets that HER nail polish is made of 267 carats of black diamonds and was created by jeweler Azature. Which I think is not only gauche, wasteful and impractical, but also immoral.
But hey, don't think you're going to make Kells feel bad with that kind of reasoning. Because although she professes (over and over again) to  hope we aren't upset with her, she signs off by flipping us the $250,000 manicured bird, noting she doesn't regret it because "it made me feel like a queen!"
Black diamond nails make you feel like a queen? Well if there is a country called “Disgusting Depths of Fame-Whoreania,” then yes, you can be queen of that country. Because I’m pretty sure the starving children in Eritrea wouldn’t want you to be queen of theirs.


 Danny Bonaduce just barely survived a 
full-on gnawing recently, so go easy on him.  
He's bound to be skittish for the next little while.
Answer this question truthfully: When you look at this face, what do you think? Do you think, "OMG I have to have a bite of that?"
Yeah, well you just passed the world's easiest sanity test.
 Alas, former Partridge Family child star Danny Bonaduce managed to run into the one person on earth who would have answered "Yes" to that question when he was attacked by what he calls a "crazed fan." 

He tells reporters the woman approached him at a casino event in Washington, asked him if she could kiss him and then sank her teeth into his cheek for one whole crazy minute until someone pulled her off. 
And I think even without his leading comments, we'd have deduced all on our own that she was crazed. 
Because who in their right mind is going to sink their teeth into Danny Bonaduce?

Editor's note: I bet he tasted like cocaine.

Sunday, 30 September 2012


But not all women are so lucky. For those of you 
who need help, get it, I say, and guilt be damned!
I ran into an old friend the other day. And when I say old I mean the same age as I am, only she looks it and I don't think I do. I'm sure she was thinking exactly the same thing about me. And here's the funny thing: I ran into her in a cosmetic surgeon's office. Hadn't seen her since university ... where did that 30 years go? ... and suddenly, there she was, in Dr. De Lorenzi's waiting room.  
Neither of us asked what the other was getting "done." That's bad form. But I was shocked to see her there. She had never seemed like someone who cared about outer beauty. Which just goes to prove my theory that looks matter to every woman on earth (except possibly lesbians, although I'm just guessing and Ellen DeGeneres may beg to differ).
I know that sounds shallow, but the truth is females are judged on their looks from day one. This does things to our psyche. Other people's opinion of our face and body holds considerable power, and we are excruciatingly aware of this. 
We deny it, we scorn it, we try to rise above it, but it is always deep-down THERE. 
Especially as you get older.

I never gave wrinkles a thought when I was young, but when my 40s hit, I began to see "signs." And now, at age 50 (oh fine, 50-frigging-two), mirrors have become the enemy. I stare at them morbidly, hunting for new creases and shadows, poking the skin under my eyes, making pouty lips and thinking, "Hmm. I wonder how much that would cost." 

For me, it is not so much a question of "if," but of "when."
I realize I will never look 20 again. I realize some celebrities have given "face fixing" a creepy rap (not naming any names, although Bruce Jenner comes terrifyingly to mind). Above all, I realize that aging is unstoppable. But that's not the goal. The goal is to just slow it down a little.
I sense that as you read this, you are waging an inner skirmish: "I refuse to INJECT anything ... God made this face just the way ... Pathetic! ... Must grow old gracefully ... " 
Ladies, please. There are enough woman-haters out there, we don't need to pile on. If you want to get it done, then get it done. (And if you don't, awesome. Just don't judge.)
Go easy, start small, it will probably be enough. Don't feel bad about it and don't let anyone else make you feel bad about it either. As my wise, wonderful (and naturally beautiful) mother has always said, "Never apologize, never explain." 
In other words, just do it . . . and keep it to your wrinkle-free little self.

Editor's note: But you didn't tell us what YOU were getting done.

My note: Maybe I was just accompanying a friend. Maybe I was getting a mole removed. Or maybe I have a hideous, scaly rash covering my entire body and you just made me tell the whole world about it, you big jerk.
Editor's note: (She was totally getting a nose job...)