Saturday, 24 November 2012

AGING HAPPENS TO EVERYONE . . . EXCEPT CHER

REMEMBER MY HIT SONG 
'IF I COULD TURN BACK TIME'? 
That was irony. There was no "if." 
Paul Smith/Featureflash
Bearing no resemblance whatsoever to a 66-year-old woman, the one and only Cher is back and poised to sweep the charts with a new dance-ready single.

The inimitable diva, who is two-parts Cherokee, two-parts Armenian and two-parts wax, has had to push up the release date of "Woman's World" thanks to this new-fangled thingamajiggie called the Interweb. Or something. 

Anyway, a version of the song was leaked and Cher said, "Oh what the hell, you silly bitches," and went ahead and released it early. It's an infectious, eclectic, bumping dance beat that just screams Club Anthem. Have a listen here at Woman's World. Yep. She looks 40, she sounds 30 and she acts 20. God, I love this woman.

On the flipside of the Incredible Older Women coin, we have Goldie Hawn, who does look her age. Click on Before sunscreen was invented.

Yes, her skin looks a bit lizardy, but what I love about that is that THIS IS WHAT 67-YEAR-OLDS ARE SUPPOSED TO LOOK LIKE! Her face is literally flipping Hollywood a giant freckled bird: "Eff you, plastic mongers! This is my face! Deal with it!"
Goldie celebrated her birthday on Wednesday, and rather than mark it with a trip to the cosmetic surgeon's office, she instead hit the streets for a run, fit and curvy in her gym gear and without a drop of spackle. She looks 60, she acts 40 and she thinks 20. God, I love this woman. Happy birthday, sunshine.

Friday, 23 November 2012

AND THEN SPRING CAME BACK AND STAYED A WHILE

YONGE ST., NOVEMBER 22: No snow. No winter coats. No hats. No way!
A couple of weeks ago, the weather prophets examined the skies and the corn husks and the direction in which the hair grows on the topmost portion of an albino calf's skull and proclaimed: "This is going to be one dirty mother of a winter." And we were afraid. We were very afraid. Because we all remember that time, that one really bad time, when it snowed so hard Mayor Mel Lastman had to call in the army and everyone out west laughed their arses off at us.  
Yet since that proclamation, we've been basking in temperatures so balmy and Florida-esque it is tempting to say, "Those weather guys are nuts." Except we would never say that. Because if we did, we would be jinxing ourselves and within hours it would start to snow so hard that our throats would clog up with the stuff before we could even gasp, "I was kidding!" 
We know this. Because we are Canadian; every one of us has at least one family member who died in exactly this way. 
So let's just enjoy the balmy weather while it lasts, because it won't be here lo . . . wow. Too late. 

Thursday, 22 November 2012

THANKSGIVING BRAWL BREAKS OUT AT HALLE'S HOME

YOU'D THINK PEOPLE WHO LOOK LIKE THIS 
WOULD HAVE IT EASY ... 
And yet I'll wager that Mama June and Honey Boo Boo 
had a much happier Thanksgiving than now exes 
Gabriel Aubry and Halle Berry did.
Photo/CreStock


In a rare departure from my default mode of poisonous snarkasm, I rather sombrely bring you shocking news of a shocking melee at Halle Berry's house that pretty much guarantees her kid's Thanksgiving is ruined for good. 

You may remember that beautiful Halle and hot French-Canadian model Gabriel Aubry melded their souls and nether regions just long enough to have a daughter, Nahla, now 4. Then things soured and they went through a vicious custody battle, in which Halle lost her bid to move to France with Nahla and her new fiance, actor Olivier Martinez. (Whom I am unable to find attractive because he's ugly. And also, apparently, a brute.)

Then this morning, Aubry was dropping Nahla off to celebrate Thanksgiving with Halle and Martinez, and words ... bad words ... bad French words ... were exchanged between Aubry and Martinez. And a fight worthy of Ryan O'Neal and his utterly dysfunctional brood erupted.

Aubry allegedly swung at Martinez and then it was pure fisticuffs and lunging bodies as a horrified Halle and Nahla looked on. Both men were injured and hospitalized, with Aubry suffering a pulverized face and a broken rib and Martinez suffering a broken hand and neck injuries. Aubry has been arrested and is now gagging down a Thanksgiving meal of jailbird and stuffing. When he's released, he will be ordered not to come within 100 yards of his family.
On the plus side, if Halle were to apply again for permission to take Nahla to France for good, I'm thinking she'd win. 

EDITOR'S NOTE: That was "a departure" from snarkasm?
MY NOTE: Well, as close to departure as I get, yes. Hey, just be thankful I didn't post the picture of Gabriel Aubry's post-fight face. I call it The Picasso.

I WOULD SELL MY SOUL FOR THIS PIE ... IF I HAD A SOUL

O taste and see that the Lord is good ...





My co-workers hosted yet another Snack Day yesterday. Soon, we’re all going to weigh 300 pounds. This time, one of the young ladies made a lemon meringue pie AND a pecan pie with bourbon in it. And crusts made from scratch. With butter. Sexiest thing I have ever seen that wasn’t Ryan Gosling.
Me (staring at pies in creepily lustful way): You MADE these?
Her: Yeah, and the whipped cream, too. There’s bourbon in it.
Me: Omigod. Why aren’t you married yet?
Her: Because I’m a HUGE bitch.
Male co-worker (with mouth full): I could live with that …

GREAT MOMENTS IN TRAVEL: PUNTA de MITA

YOU CAN'T MAKE THIS STUFF UP 

So we're travelling by rented dune buggy along the coast of Mexico. Our journey takes us to beautiful, remote Punta de Mita, where we enjoy a frosty Corona ($1) and homemade nachos and guacamole ($3). As the sun begins to set, we head for the dune buggy and discover the brake line has broken. Sheer...Flipping...Panic.

"It's going to be dark soon!" I helpfully observe. "We have to have the rental back by 7! It's rainy season! It'll be pouring by 6! I need another beer!" 

At some point during this soliloquoy, I realize my travelling companion has gone to find help. He returns with a one-legged, club-footed mechanic (above) who grins incessantly and speaks no English whatsoever. I begin to mentally prepare myself to spend the rest of my life in Punta de Mita. 

But the grinning one-legged man has a plan and a couple of Spanish-speaking assistants, and within minutes, the dune buggy is fixed. We are so grateful we would cry, if we had time. We offer money. "No! No! No es necesario!" The one-legged mechanic is adamant. In the end, he lets us buy him and his helpers a round and a pack of smokes. Total cost: $6.

I remember things like this when everyone tells me how dangerous Mexico is, and I think: "This story would have had a very different ending in Detroit . . . "


PETA ISSUES CONFUSING PLEA; TURKEYS LOUDLY OBJECT

"SO LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT . . . 
YOU WANT ME TO DAMN THE TURKEYS?"
Bloody vegans, they're so difficult. 
Can't we all just get along and have dinner?
Photo/CreStock 



 
Is it just me or is PETA one confusing group of angry animal-lovers? On the eve of American Thanksgiving, the group came out swinging against the U.S. holiday practice of pardoning turkeys.

In a bizarre gesture, PETA chairman Ingrid Newark released a video address to President Barack Obama, saying the pardon "makes light of the mass slaughter of some 46 million gentle, intelligent delicious birds."

"Turkeys do not need to be pardoned as they are not guilty of anything except being delicious born into a world of prejudice," Newark said. "They are innocents who should be respected for who they are: good mothers, smart birds and interesting juicy, delicious animals."

And as the organic, fair-trade drugs began to kick in, his rambling grew still more free-ranging. "You understand so well that African-Americans, women and members of the LGBT community have been poorly served throughout history, and now I am asking you to consider other living beings who are ridiculed, belittled and treated as if their ... feelings count for nothing."

At which point, I assume, the President shut the tape off and turned to stare at his wife.
Barack: "Did I hear that last bit right?"
Michelle: "Yup. He just compared turkeys to minorities."
Barack: "Wow. Next thing you know he'll be asking me to let turkeys vote."
Michelle: "That would be a disaster. You just KNOW they'd vote for Romney..."
Barack: *pauses, inhales deeply* "Man, that bird smells good . . ."

Editor's note: Speaking as a vegan, I don't think the pardon goes far enough. I would urge the President to not only pardon turkeys, but also to pardon vegetables. Stop the senseless slaughter of LGBT onions, parsnips and yams who give their lives each year just to make our Thanksgiving more delicious. TOFURKEY! TOFURKEY! TOFURKEY!

STAND BACK: I DON'T KNOW HOW BIG I'M GOING TO GET

PRINCESS PLUS-SIZE
Christina arrives at the AMAs
looking drop-dead gorgeous 
and every inch the diva. 
Photo:CreStock 
Christina Aguilera's ballooning weight gain is prompting a vicious backlash on Twitter (where people who have nothing to talk about go to share), and leading to increasing comparisons to Snooki. The Twitter hating reached an alarming crescendo after her appearance at Sunday's American Music Awards, no doubt from an audience of critics sitting at home on a dirty chesterfield while cramming Cheetos into their mouth with both hands. 

I am insulted on Christina's behalf by these developments, for a number of reasons. First and foremost, even if she stuffed her big-boneded thighs into a pair of leopard print leggings, glued spiders to her eyelashes and started speaking Ewok, she could NEVER be Snooki. On account of this one key difference: She is riddled with talent and Snooki is devoid of it. So, no resemblance there.

Secondly, yes, she has gained a lot of weight. So, on occasion, has Mariah Carey. And Adele. And Kelly Price. And Jill Scott. And Angie Stone. And even, heaven forgive me, Aretha Franklin. These women clearly all hail from that rare tribe of women who could puff up as big as a blowfish and still look sexy and still be able to sing their way into heaven on account of the vocal chords God gave them as a present to Himself.

So please people, stand down on Christina's voluptuousness. It's a heckuva lot healthier and a heckuva lot less disturbing to look at than anorexic celebs in bikinis. And also, in the grand scheme of things, it is irrelevant.

Editor's note: What a lovely sentiment. Bravo. Say, is that Christina's butt or is she trying to smuggle Danny de Vito in under her dress?
Carrie Underwood is what Christina Aguilera thinks she looks like right now. And no one has the heart to tell her "NAWL.""
"Christina Aguilera looks like Snooki. No wait, that's an insult to Snooki."
"Did Christina Aguilera eat one of Willy Wonka's blueberries?"


Read more: http://www.foxnews.com/entertainment/2012/11/19/christina-aguilera-fuller-figure-at-ama-awards-prompts-twitter-fire/#ixzz2ChlZnV4q

EMMA STONE ACCIDENTALLY MAYBE MADE A SEX TAPE

"C'MON, PEOPLE! DO I LOOK LIKE THE TYPE 
OF GIRL WHO WOULD MAKE A SEX TAPE?"
(Well now that you mention it, yes.)
Photo/CreStock

You know how sometimes you're not even hungry and then someone says, "Mmm, cheesecake!" and suddenly, you can't stop thinking about cheesecake?

That's sort of what's going on with Emma Stone and the sex tape nobody would ever have associated her with ... until someone "mysteriously" started blabbering about it. (Pssst, nicely done, paid squealer! Your cheque is in the mail. It won't be as LARGE *snicker* as the one you got from Hulk Hogan or Kim K, but hey, they add up.)  

But back to the story. The story that is suddenly everywhere:
"Emma Stone has a sex tape!
"Emma Stone, sex tape?" 
"Emma Stone sex tape could be released!" 

The comedic starlet is so not known for sexiness that an "insider" *snicker* had to strenuously insist to news outlets that this tape does in fact exist.
"Emma Stone has a sex tape and that's a fact," the insider  tells Radaronline, adding, "There is no way she would organize the release of the tape, in fact she would fight to stop it because that adds cachet. She has no respect for women like Kim Kardashian and Paris Hilton." (And yet. And yet she made the damn thing.) 

This insider also notes Emma made the video "long before she became a household name and probably thought nothing would come of it." Of course! Just as any normal kid would. Just as I used to collect stamps and thought that nothing would come of it. Because it was stamp collecting, and not VIDEOTAPING YOURSELF HAVING SEX! Sheesh. Is everyone in Hollywood completely bonkers?

Editor's note: Yes. And if you ask me, this whole thing is just a big tease: Is there a sex tape or isn't there? You’ve got to go hunting for it and even if you find it, it’s probably boring and clumsy and the lighting sucks. For those of you looking for surefire titillation, I recommend porn.

My note: Please tell me you washed your hands before coming to work today.

Wednesday, 21 November 2012

MAYBE, JUST MAYBE, THE BEST MARIAH MOMENT EVER

Mariah Carey, Whorrified, Lainey Gossip,
FIFTY SHADES OF DIVA
*Giggle, blush, teehee* "I am so dainty and 
curly and feminine! I am ...  BITCH, GET 
THE HELL OUT OF MY SPOTLIGHT!" 
Photo/CreStock


You know the phrase "a picture is worth a thousand words"? Yeah. And a video is worth TEN thousand words, especially if that video is of Mariah Carey majestically telling the stupidest woman on earth to get out of her special Angel Glow aura. And when I say "telling," I mean shoving. With the swoop of one regal, gold-flecked arm, a swoop Queen E herself wishes she could manage so graciously. 
This is pure, undiluted elixir of diva. Click, scroll down and watch, over and over and over again, right here. 

* With thanks to Lainey Lui, that other Canadian gossip girl, on whose fabulous site I found this at (laineygossip.com).

THERE IS NO CRISIS KIM'S BREASTS CAN'T RESOLVE

HELLO, ISRAEL! I'M HERE TO SAVE YOU!
 And I brought goodie bags for everyone, although 
of course, you'll have to bid on them. Let's start with 
this bottle of my own perfume line. Just because 
you're being bombed doesn't mean 
you have to smell bad! Do I hear $500? 
 Steve Vas/Featureflash

 
I've got fantastic news for everyone who's worried about the escalating violence in Gaza. Help is on the way! And it's wearing false eyelashes and a bustier. Yes, Kim Kardashian was so rattled by the backlash against her Middle East Twitter disaster on the weekend that she has decided to get some edukashian on the issues.

She is heading to Kuwait and Bahrain and is reportedly determined to use the trip to bone up on the political situation in the Middle East. (Although that wasn't the initial reason for her trip, truth be told. In a marketing move rivalling Kim's tweets for stupidity, the Millions of Milkshakes franchise figured that what a region simmering in unrest really needs is a good frostie, and is flying Kim in to promote their opening.)

A representative for the Kardashianest of the Kardashians says Kim feels "it's important to use her celebrity to inform others about the issues in the area." Because obviously, CNN and New York Times just can't be trusted with the job. Oh well, at least now there's hope for that hard-to-reach Shopping Channel demographic.

I know I can't think of anyone better suited to the job of Celebrity Middle East ambassador, except perhaps just about anybody. Indeed, the only consolation I can offer the strife-torn region is that this is almost certainly just a phase, which will pass as soon as the next A) fashion trend B) pool party C) hot black guy crosses Kim's radar.

Editor's note: In the interest of serious journalism, I tried to get a comment, but Kim's people told me she is busy shopping for push-up burqas and a copy of Bahrain for Dummies.

Monday, 19 November 2012

THANK YOU FOR YOUR MATERNAL WISDOM. GOODBYE.

"AND AS A MOTHER I ALSO FEEL 
VERY STRONGLY ABOUT BREASTFEEDING."
 "Hey. Hellooo! Up here. My eyes are up here. 
(That Hugh Hefner. He never stops!)"
 Photo/CreStock 



Signs you might be a bad parent: former Playboy centrefolds who think "double-D" is their IQ start criticizing your parenting skills.

Kendra Wilkinson, who has been on this planet for 27 years and has yet to utter a single sensible word, accidentally came close to doing so last night when she blasted Kelsey Grammer for bringing his infant to a Playboy Mansion Halloween party. And I know that was like a whole month ago, but Kendra's brain has only just now processed the information and tagged it as offensive to her as a mother.

Yes, this former peeler, who for years earned a living by hawking sex tapes and allowing photographs of her crotch to be splashed across the bedroom walls of teenage boys the world over, was on her way to Hollywood's Lure Nightclub last night when she was spotted by paparazzi. And because they already know her stance on the bloodshed in the Middle East and her remedies for the fiscal cliff, they asked her about the Playboy mansion. 
Which in turn led to questions about Kelsey "Bad Dad" Grammer.

"Oh, he KNOWS how I feel, trust me," Kendra huffed. "I gave him that eye and I left because of that."

Yes, she gave him the dreaded "eye," which Kelsey no doubt misinterpreted to mean, "Good lord, that girl is mad for me!" and chased her around the room and right out the door until she jumped into her chauffeured Lambo and escaped to a safe haven where, in her opinion, the better parents hang out: the strip club.

Editor's note: Well just because she's a former stripper and centrefold model and sex tape participant doesn't mean she's a bad mother.
My note: You're perfectly right. *pulls out contract* And can you make sure you sign that part, right there, where it says, "I promise not to breed, ever"? Thank you.
  
He KNOWS how I feel, trust me... I gave him that eye and I left because of that

Read more <a href="http://www.thehollywoodgossip.com">celebrity gossip</a> at: http://www.thehollywoodgossip.com#ixzz2ChWsjKTc
He KNOWS how I feel, trust me... I gave him that eye and I left because of that

Read more <a href="http://www.thehollywoodgossip.com">celebrity gossip</a> at: http://www.thehollywoodgossip.com#ixzz2ChWsjKTc

HEN PARTY! (SORRY, NO ROOSTERS ALLOWED)

THE UNIDENTIFIED HENS, ROOSTING 'ROUND THE DINNER TABLE
Alas, I am forbidden on pain of death and excommunication from identifying ANYONE 
in this picture except one of my daughters (far left). It's probably only a matter of time 
before she forbids me, too.

I've always hated the phrase "hen party." Like so many terms used to describe women in various states of happiness or enjoyment, it is demeaning and degrading. It does a grave injustice to the magic that happens when a group of females bond.  
However. I attended a truly lovely get-together yesterday with my cousins, aunts, daughters and other related women-folk. No boys allowed. One husband, having espied the table laden with sweets, attempted to linger but was shooed away by his wife with a brisk, "OK then, enjoy your afternoon!" *door simultaneously closing in his face

Many of us hadn't seen each other in months or years, so things started off very politely and demurely. There were a lot of nods and crossed legs and daintily held beverages. But as time and mimosas wore on, the chatter warmed up, we started talking about everything from recipes to mammograms, and about midway through brunch the noise of our own excited gabbling had crescendoed to glass-shattering levels. 

I stepped out of the dining room briefly to grab my camera . . . that's a story in itself: now that the family is on to my blogging, they hit the dirt when the camera comes out. "NO PICTURES!" "DON'T IDENTIFY ME!" "DON'T YOU DARE!" "YOU'RE NOT GOING TO PUT THIS ON YOUR BLOG, ARE YOU?" (Heheheheh. Of course not, ladies) . . . but anyway, I stepped out of the room to grab my camera and I tell you, the sound that wafted out behind me was like a WALL of cackling. If cackling were bricks, we could have built a 40-foot tower with them and locked Rapunzel in at the top. And she'd have been grateful, because then at least she'd have had a reprieve from the noise.

As we were leaving, my mom said "Wasn't that fun? That was a real hen party." 
I started to protest, but then I realized she was right. That's exactly what it had been. And damn, it was fun.
So I guess the rule is that if the hens call it a hen party, it's fine, but if a rooster calls it a hen party, we get to peck him senseless. That, in essence, is the logic of feminine bonding. It's a beautiful thing. 

Sunday, 18 November 2012

CELEBRITY TEETH THAT SCARE THE CR*P OUT OF ME

"TSK. YOU POOR, LESSER CELEBRITIES.
DON'T YOU KNOW THE SECRET?"
If you don't like your teeth, you don't have to get 
them fixed, you just have to keep your mouth shut
 at all times, like I do. Ever see a pic of me smiling 
with my mouth open? No. And here's why: 
Click on Eek! A mouse!
Photo/CreStock 
 
A funny thing happens to celebrities when they get a little bit of fame and a lot of money. They start spending it on things they think will help them get a little more fame. Things that sometimes do the complete opposite, on account of they render said celebrity creepy and unrecognizable. Things like bad boob jobs, bad face lifts, bad marriages and, perhaps worst of all, big, bad, buck-toothed veneers from Steve Harvey's private designer collection.

Because it is Monday and we all need a hit of something to make us laugh without having to actually think too much, I present you with this gallery of celebs who went and got TEETH THAT SCARE THE LIVING CRAP OUT OF ME:

Snooki Snookums? Is that you, or did Mr. Ed the Talking Horse put your face over his head? ("Hello, Clarice..." ) These jacked-up horrors actually make me miss your old Jersey Shore snaggles. Click on Ewok Teeth.

Hillary Duff Whoa! What the hay? Well that'll teach you to try and save a buck by getting your veneers installed by a veterinarian. Click on A horse, of course.  

Gary Busey Great mother of pearl! I realize the man survived a cataclysmic motorcycle accident that took out his teeth AND his brain, but holy moly. He doesn't have people? People who can tell him, "Uh, Gary, those aren't teeth, those are press-on nails. Here baby, lemme help get you to a dentist..." Click on Mommy, that man's teeth scare me!

Joe Biden These gleaming onesies just scream "GEEZHER!" I'm shorry, Joe. Denturesh that look like denturesh aren't shexshy. (And also, you're the vice-president of the U.S. of A. Get help.) Click on Polident much?  
 
NeNe Leakes Nice try, NeNe. But not even that blinding wall of white concrete in your mouth will distract me from the stupid things that come out of it. Click on No, no, NeNe.  

Mike Tyson Dude. They were bad enough BEFORE you put the gold caps over top of 'em. Now you not only act like the kind of guy who would behead hamsters will his bare teef, but you look like one too. (And I would tell him that to his face, too . . . if I weren't terrified he might think I'm a hamster. Maybe YOU could tell him?) Click on Please don't eat me! 

THEN THERE WAS THE TIME MY MOM KILLED MY BLOG

TAKEN IN THE YEAR 2012 A.D. (of blog)
This was the first pic I took after I got my new phone and  before I killed every pic on my blog. Good picture quality, but perhaps not quite worth the agony that ensued.

Some of the more observant of you, and also the less observant of you . . . in fact, just about anyone with at least one eye . . . may have noticed that terrible things happened to the photos on my soon-to-be-award-winning blog last week. Meaning they disappeared and turned into big black boxes. 
All of them, one by one, slowly and terrifyingly, in front of my very eyes.
This caused a goodly amount of sheer skin-clawing panic, I can assure you. I shrieked and cursed and blamed hackers, viruses, Blogger and the Prince of Darkness himself. (I dated him once. He would totally do that to me.) 
At around the same time, I purchased a gorgeous new phone. I already had a perfectly good phone, but I decided to upgrade because my mom repeatedly pointed out that it took lousy, unblogworthy photos. 
“They make your face look long and your nose look big,” she would say. Often.
And while I don’t think we can really blame the phone for my horse face and big nose, it WAS an excellent excuse to get the slim, sexy new Galaxy II LTE.

ON THE OTHER HAND, THIS PIC ...
Taken with (and of) my new phone, 
looks kind of grainy. As photos taken 
in dimly lit public bathrooms often do. 
Sometimes I creep my own self out.



I was thrilled to bits with the sleek new technobeauty. And while I noticed that it did not surgically correct my too-long face and too-big nose, at least both are now crystal clear. But I also noticed that ALL of my blog pix were showing up on my phone. "Well that’s just a waste of space," I thought. So I deleted them.
Long pause. 
That’s right. 
I deleted them. 

And just like that, without a warning from the goddam phone that it was about to take me down screaming, they were gone.
The next day, the photos began to disappear off the blog. Because somehow the phone had been magically synced WITHOUT MY PERMISSION to my blog. Good steaming lord.
I’ll spare you the boring bits between how I figured that out and the epic tantrum I threw afterwards, but I will just say that the pics are being painstakingly re-uploaded, all 654 of them, while I weep and moan and gnash my teeth on a vodka bottle. Please bear with me; they'll all be back. And I am never, ever upgrading my phone again. You hear me, mom? Never!

Editor's note: So what you have done here is, you have cunningly placed the blame on your own mother.
My note: This is why bad things happen to me. Because I’m a b*tch.