Saturday, 1 December 2012


The desperately unattractive Sofia Vergara 
is increasingly being forced to turn to character roles, 
such as a lace-clad, playfight-loving bisexual 
in the upcoming Faded Gigolo. I smell an Oscar . . . 

Whoever's job it is to sit around thinking up raunchy movie scenes is going to get a HUGE promotion for this one. 
Panderer: "Hey! How 'bout this: A steamy sex scene between Sofia Vergara and Sharon Stone!" 
Boss: I was thinking more like Rihanna and Chris Brown tweeting pix of themselves faking sex, but this? Wow. I bow to you!

The two women and their four breasts will star in a movie with the working title Faded Gigolo (I leave it to you to figure out who gets the "faded" role), playing out-of-control bisexuals. And because this kind of blah isn't going to appeal to anyone, they are REALLY having to drum up interest with publicity stunts such as this one, staged yesterday behind conveniently see-through curtains in downtown NYC . . . 

Picture it: Sofia clad in black lace lingerie two sizes too small, Sharon Stone clad in ... well, nothing ... embracing and kissing and generally doing whatever they can to get this movie to within a hair's breadth of the dreaded R rating. And, by all accounts, failing miserably. Because the director made them shoot it over and over and over and over. The poor dumb bunnies obviously just couldn't get it right.

Sofia: "Ay, dios mio, I so tired. Can we be feenished?"
Director: Er ... gulp ... the,uh ... the light was all wrong. Just one more time.
Sofia: Oh. Should I take more close off?
Director: Heheheheh!
Sharon: Fuck off, asshole. We're done.
Director: Ok.

Me: Oh. You're still here? Well you might want to click on this link, then, to some snippets of totally titillating dreck. Or not.

Friday, 30 November 2012


Bobbi Kristina and her adopted 
brother-fiance Nick Gordon had matching 
his-n-hers car crashes yesterday. 
 Paul Smith/Featureflash

Proving once again that she is perfectly okay and not at all in need of intense therapy and divine intervention, Whitney Houston’s 19-year-old daughter Bobbi Kristina totalled her Camaro yesterday ... her third crash in three months. The car plunged over an embankment in Atlanta, Ga., and took out a goodly number of trees on the way down, but miraculously, BK wasn't seriously injured. 

Normally, I’d say “Well thank heavens she has that healthy, supportive relationship with her fiance-adopted brother to go home to,” but OOPS! Mere hours after his beloved's near-death experience, Nick Gordon was arrested for driving like a maniac in a pedestrian area. 
Good heavenly lord. Here’s hoping these two get help before somebody gets hurt. Or pregnant. 

Editor's note: Oh tut-tut, you're making a mountain out of an incestuous molehill. Both of them are now tweeting they aren't engaged anymore and aren't even dating! (Although they both still do a lot of public kissing and hugging.) I'm sure this will all work out just fine.

My note: Just as I am sure that Bobby Brown will someday become a clean-living vegan and start paying child support. We all have to have dreams...


Home-made, chocolate-glazed doughnuts. This is the kind of thing my skinny co-workers bring to the office to share. HOW MEAN IS THAT?

And now, just because I am feeling fat today and I see no reason why I should have to endure this alone, I will share some observances I have made about the futility of diets. There is no order to this, no structure, and certainly no point. Just a general passing-on of the self-loathing. Have a nice day! 

Overheard in grocery lineup at a Metro in Brampton: 
Daughter: "Mom, why are you getting so many boxes of cookies? You're always complaining that you're fat!"
Mom: "Oh, tell the whole world why doncha! Anyway everybody puts on extra fat in the winter. It's a hibernation instinct."
Daughter: "I don't put on extra fat."
Mom: *Indecipherable muttering under breath, hand reaching for child's ear as child simultaneously ducks out of the way, suggesting this is a familiar tactic on Mom's part.*
Mom catches me snooping and smiles thinly. "Kids!"
Me: "Heheheheh. Yeah. I hate them."

Co-worker, a serious foodie, has booked an eating tour of Spain. He announces that he is now officially on a diet because he wants to shed a few pounds before leaving. "Prepare," as he calls it. 
Half an hour later, I hear a suspicious plastic-bag-crinkling sound followed by crunching.
"Dude," I say without even turning around, "I don't know what you're eating but anything that makes those sounds is not diet food."
Crinkling stops cold.

Another co-worker (yes, I know, I'll be lucky if I can get any of them to talk to me after this one), a striking young woman who has NOTHING to worry about in the looks department but of course worries anyway ... because she's a woman ... tells us she has rejoined Weight Watchers.
"They told me I can eat all the fruit I want!" she says.
Then she sets out a box of crispy, buttery Milk Bar cookies as big as dinner plates. And has one. I admire her joie de vivre, but in my head I'm thinkin', "Girlfriend, unless that cookie grew on a tree, it ain't fruit!"

Friend: I'm on the Paleo diet!
Me: You look great.
Friend: I lost seven pounds. You should try it.
Me: (*Is she saying I'm fat?*) Maybe later. Right now I need to eat some of those goddam dinner-plate-sized cookies my co-worker brought in BECAUSE SHE HATES US!!!

Editor's note: So, I'm confused. Are you dieting? Or not dieting?
My note: Both! Neither! Don't you get it? Aaaarrrrgggh!

Thursday, 29 November 2012


 after her last dust-up with Mr. Lisa. (And if that's not the face of a woman 
who washes down hard drugs with hard liquor, I'll eat my shirt.) 
Been wondering what Lisa Robin Kelly is up to? (You: "Who the hell is Lisa Robin Kelly?") I'll take that as a no. Well anyway, I'm tired of skewering Lindsay Lohan...where's the challenge? for today, it's this broad's turn.
For a brief shining moment six years ago, Lisa had a shot at a life when she played Eric Foreman's hussy sister, Laurie, in That '70s Show. Her role didn't last long, but apparently it gave her enough confidence to go out and bag a geezer husband. And she hasn't stopped thumping the bejeebers out of him since.

Lisa, back in the That '70s Show day, 
when she was cute as a trampy button.
Lisa, now 42 going on 50, has been arrested (again) for allegedly assaulting her 61-year-old beloved after a violent incident in their home last night. 
She was arrested for spousal abuse back in March as well but obviously never got over whatever it was that sparked THAT argument.

The pair of them have been charged this time and both are in custody. Hopefully in separate cells. Otherwise, it's just cage fighting.

Tuesday, 27 November 2012


Seen here in the advanced stages of fame. 

Before she became a grotesque, pimped-out, coked-up parody of herself, Anna Nicole Smith was a Guess model who gobsmacked the world with her stunning beauty. 

Of course we all know how that story ended, and in the six years since her gritty end, she has pretty much faded from public memory.
But Guess has launched a new campaign with a young model who is eerily reminiscent of Anna Nicole: her daughter, Dannielynn Birkhead.

Dannielynn is the foreshadowy new face of Guess Kids, stepping into the role 20 years after it did great things for her mom. The brand's Svengali  creative director Paul Marciano says Dannielynn "has the same playful spirit that her mother had on a set." (Except that Anna Nicole was an adult and Dannielynn is SIX FRIGGIN' YEARS OLD!) "She's a second-generation Guess girl, which makes this campaign a first for us,"  Marciano says.

And . . . Yes, well . . . am I the only one who's a little creeped out by this?
Click on Jesus Christ, I'm Only Six Years Old!


 of having my image sullied
 in connection with this Rob Ford 
conflict-of-interest debacle!
Photo: Crestock

Hey, all you *ssholes who wanted Rob Ford kicked out of office: are ya happy now? Huh? ARE YA?  
Cuz Rob-and-this-is-my brother-Doug wants you to know that everything he did, he did for the kids. OK? And you f*ckers messed it up with your "rules" and your "regulations" and your uptight, can't leave a rogue mayor alone-y-ness. Way to go!

One day after being found guilty of conflict of interest and turfed from office, a choked-up yet pugnacious Ford faced a firing squad of TV cameras and offered an apology that sounded more like an accusation.
"This entire matter began because I love to help kids play football." (And also because he refused to pay the $3,150 out of his own pocket. *Slap! Slap! No! What is the MATTER with you, stupid editor?*) "I was focused on raising money to help underprivileged youth," Ford said.
Well that's wonderful. That is your ticket to heaven right there, Robbie, but the thing is ...YOU WERE THE MAYOR OF THE BIGGEST GODDAM CITY in Canada! So maybe the football thing should have come second to council meetings rather than the other way around? I don't know. Maybe? Izzat just crazy talk? Yeah, it's probably just crazy talk.
So all you people who hate Rob for caring so much, for soliciting funds for his team using city letterhead, for putting bros before (council) hos, for voting on matters in which he was directly financially involved, well SCREW YOU! You ruined it for the kids! I hope you can sleep tonight!  

Post Script: Hours after that stupid boring press conference, Rob's beloved Bosco boys got their arses kicked by the Huron Heights Warriors. This is probably all your fault too, people! Here's a link to the Toronto Star's coverage of today's Ford developments; click on The Stuff Good Journalism is Made Of.



BEFORE: Perfection
AFTER: Pureed

We all remember last week's tragic story of celebrity bazillionaires squabbling over their children, Thanksgiving and scruples be damned, right? Well here's the follow-up. 

If you have the stomach for male models formerly known as gorgeous but now just known as fist bait, take a look at these pics of Halle Berry's ex, Gabriel Aubry, after tussling with her current man, Olivier Martinez (who walked away with nothin' but bruised knuckles. And Halle Berry).

Pretty easy to see who won that scuffle.
Click on HOLY FECK, my whole face hurts!


 just coincidentally posing with Queen Latifah
... another woman who is perhaps absolutely not gay.

Here in Toronto, all anybody can talk about is how Mayor Rob Ford (and therefore his manitou brother, Doug) was turfed out of office yesterday over a conflict of interest. But the rest of the world is obsessed with much more important matters. 

I refer, of course, to the issue of Dolly Parton's sexual orientation. 

In an interview on Nightline last night, Dolly was presented with the persistent, recurring rumour that she's gay. (Which must really suck for Dolly. For the first 30 years of her career, she had to laugh off the boob jokes. Now it's all lesbian questions. At some point the woman must just want to say, "Look, I've had two thousand hit songs and I've been famous since before dust was born. Could you maybe ask me something about my damn music?"
But no, Nightline doesn't deal with that kind of piffle. They want the dirt. The hard stuff. The goods. Cough it up, Dollybird! Is you is or is you ain't a lesbian?)

Dolly responded that she and her BFF Judy Ogle have been bosom buddies since they were children (so, even during puberty!?!) and that they have a great relationship but are not "romantically involved." Surely, Dolly said, just as Oprah's  boyfriend of 26 years is "proof" that Oprah is straight, Dolly's husband of 46 years is pretty good proof that she's straight too?
Then she immediately clouded that logic by adding that her husband "is not the least bit threatened by the fact that I might be gay."
Oh! Er, that you might be gay? So ... you're gay? Or not?

I'm not sure what the psychology is behind Dolly's bizarre public denial that she is gay, but the effect it had was to immediately make me wonder whether in fact Dolly might be gay.   
And if she IS gay, all I can say is: couldn't you have told us sooner? Because we might have been able to stomach the image of you and your best friend naked and having it off 25 years ago when you were FORTY, but now? Please. Our systems were not meant to cope with that kind of visual.  

Oprah's note: Dolly, I love you like you're my own gay sister, but would y'all just leave me out of this?
Editor's note: Gayle King is your sister?


This is more than most of us have. Perhaps expecting 
Nicole Scherzinger to be able to utter a single
 interesting sentence was just asking too much.

Paul Smith/Featureflash

And now we have some deep insights and survival tips from Nicole Scherzinger, the only one of the Pussycat Dolls anyone could pick out in a lineup if their life depended on it. Nicole gave Britain's Heat magazine some fantastic scoops, including the confession that she "once wanted to look like Jennifer Lopez." (Uhm, yeah. So did everyone else.)

So what she did was, she dyed her hair blond. Because obviously, that's what J Lo is famous for. That blond hair. Not surprisingly, Nicole says, it looked like arse and didn't fool anyone. Not one single person said "Holy sh*t, for a second there I thought you were Jennifer Lopez!" 

Moving briskly on to the dark-secrets portion of the interview, Nicole reveals that she uses La Prairie skin products but doesn't always remove her makeup after a night out partying.
“I fall into bed with it all on," she says.
(Yeah. Well so far, you're sounding pretty boring. Anything else, before I take this rag back to the newsstand and demand my money back?)

Well, let's see. If you've got the stomach for X-rated admissions, Nicole says she sometimes overimbibes. Alas, after hours of bright-light interrogation and waterboarding, she confesses that she doesn't have any secrets for hiding hangovers. If there are no large brown paper bags available, she resorts to hydrating masks, drinking lots of water and applying lots of moisturizer. (Is anyone else wondering why this magazine calls itself "Heat?")

Editor's note: This concludes our interview with the music world's biggest dullard. If we ever have the opportunity to interview Pat Boone, he might have a shot at that title. But for now, it's hers. 

Monday, 26 November 2012


 Esquire wasted no time testing this theory by handing her
 a pair of heels and panties and saying, "Cover shot, then?" 

Hey guys, this is the day you've been waiting for and dreaming of ALL YOUR LIFE! 

The day a beautiful woman (no, not me; please! I didn't say this was the day you died and went to heaven) says, "Hey there, big boy. I want you to treat me like an object!  Seriously. I LOVE that! Put your beer on my head while you watch football and make lewd comments about the cheerleaders. Put a poster of me in a bikini in your workshop for you and the boys to leer at while you hide out from the wife and talk about motorcycles and power tools and hot chicks in the neighbourhood who don't even know you exist. Would you like me to strip for you for no reason whatsoever? I'll do it! You have only to ask!"

Are you rubbing your eyes right now?
Are you scrolling down to find the part where it says "APRIL FOOL'S!" Don't bother, it's not there.
Because super-hottie Cameron Diaz, who rode a phallic rocket to fame by being objectified in the movie The Mask, tells Esquire magazine she still enjoys being objectified to this day. 

Cameron tells Esquire she feels "empowered" by photo shoots and isn't the least bit offended when asked to strip off.  
"I'm not some young girl with the photographer going, 'Will you take your clothes off?' I'm like (mimes stripping), 'How does this look?' . . . I'm a woman, I know how to handle myself. I know what I feel comfortable doing, and I know my sexuality. I own it."
And . . . well, I was about to object vigourously, but then it all started to make sense and now I'm just feeling like a prude for slapping that guy who said "Hey, mamacita" when I walked by. What I SHOULD have done was, I should have started stripping for him. I totally missed a chance to empower myself.

Editor's note: Yeah, that would have shut him RIGHT up. More interestingly, can someone please tell me why Justin Timberlake let this one get away?

Sunday, 25 November 2012


 You're taking your chances if you pay by debit 
at a certain grocery store chain. A chain that 
employs psychics disguised as checkout clerks. 
(How else could they possibly know that the reason 
your card didn't work is that you're broke as hell 
or just too stupid to activate it?)

 I was at a busy grocery store recently, stocking up on festive treats like discounted tomatoes and mayonnaise, when I witnessed an incident that highlighted the two sides of human nature ... and the dangers of paying by debit. 

Ahead of me in the checkout line, I saw an elderly woman hang her cane on the counter and bend over her purse, painstakingly fishing through it. The sales clerk rolled her eyes, a mistake that earned disapproving glances from everyone around her. (Tacit grocery store rule: It is okay to huff impatiently when the person in front of you is just being stupid-slow. If, on the other hand, she is elderly and reminds you of your mother or your grandmother, you must be as patient as if you were waiting behind Mother Teresa herself.) 

The woman finally found her debit card and handed it to the clerk, who ran it through.
"Nope," the clerk said flatly. "Didn't work." 

Flustered, the elderly woman leaned in. "Pardon me?"
"Your card isn't working," the clerk said. "Is it a new card?"
"Yes but..."
The clerk shrugged. "You forgot to activate it. You have to activate it."

"But I've used it already."
"Well maybe you don't have any money in there."
(Lost in this accusatory parrying was the possibility that perhaps the damn debit machine was to blame.)

By now, people from several lines over were watching as well.
The elderly woman fished around in her purse and handed her some cash. 
The clerk counted it out. "You're still short," she said.
At this point, a gentleman stepped forward and handed the clerk a bill. I couldn't make out the amount but it was clearly enough to get Attila the Hun to stand down.
The elderly woman was profusely grateful.
"No problem," the man assured her. "Happy to help."
At that point my line shifted and it was my turn at the checkout, and I'll tell you, I have never been so thankful that I paying with cash.

Anyway, the moral of the story . . . well, there are several. One of them being that when a store advertises itself as not having any frills, one of the frills they probably don't have is manners.
Another lesson: What goes around, comes around. So be that polite cashier who doesn't make grandma feel like a criminal for being 50 cents short. Cuz some day it could happen to you. 
And the final lesson is: Debit machines ... sometimes they mess up. You may want to have some cash on hand.