Further lowdown on J.Lo's steamy video hos; plus, jailed juice on Paris, not to mention how Tori Spelling and Reese Witherspoon are making folks fret ferociously. It's a fiery femme free-for-all!
Yet more Adrian Grenier-Paris Hilton poop, but surely that cutie crap-ola can wait till later, ‘kay by you folks? (“Never, you can wait till never,” I think I just heard somebody say, but I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that). So, just want to add a little more J.Lo juice to what we ran last week, when we helped announce the hooker-infested music video Diddy's ex is working on.
As in that item, we asked—rhetorically?—why the ef Ms. Lopez was backtracking to the sleaze-patrol stuff. (Her video’s set to be a virtual cesspool of pimps, hookers and myriad other morsels Charlie Sheen would no doubt appreciate.) We actually did hear back from somebody who’s helping J.L. coordinate this latest strut in her pro existence. Was a bit surprised by the colleague’s frankness, but hey, fine by moi:
“[Lopez] is trying to recapture her past glory perhaps, as her new Spanish album bombed, her movie bombed and she is headed back to familiar ground.”
Ouch! Swear, I swear, neither Jennifer Garner nor Ojani Noa saw to it that said Lopez camper came to us. They did it on their own, trust.
But darlings, we Awful chicas surely do adore Lopez when she’s good (like in Selena, Out of Sight or ruling the red carpet), so we're going to end with this little goodie 'bout the sometimes-baddie diva:
Did you know La Lopez always sees to it to pay her hair and makeup peeps directly—and then waits to get reimbursed by whatever projects she’s working on—so the fashionable worker bees don’t have to get caught waiting in endless check-stalling red tape? Who knew?
She’s sweet. Plus, La Girlfriend’s no idiot. Any right-minded A-lister knows you don’t ef with those who prepare your puss!
Big-Ass P.S.: Hear Madge’s seductress makeup babe, Sharon Gault, will be the one doing all the street-walker types for J.L.’s video shoot. Sounds perf and apropos!
Oh, gosh, I wonder if Jake Gyllenhaal can get to Broadway—where he’s expected to do a terribly earnest turn, I’m sure, for Mike Nichols on the boards—to help out Tori Spelling? Last I heard, the game gal I adore so (who else would have the balls to say she’s cash poor besides that megarich bitch?) was wandering the streets for her reality show, Inn Love, as Harvey Fierstein left her hanging (or vice versa, you decide). See, the Tony nabber was supposed to give Ms. Es some tips on auditioning for Broadway, and Spelling’s "people" called Fierstein right before they had an appointment and said:
"Can we do it a few hours later? [Tori’s] busy."
You can guess what Harvey’s unprintable (even in this trashy missive) reaction was. Jake? Are you in N.Y.? You’re not jaded yet, right? Can you please go help out Tor-poo? Do it for the gays! They love ya both!
Fooled ya! Ha ha ha! Gonna force all you anti-Paris peeps to read one itty-bitty bitching from P. Hilton before tomorrow's larger installment. I ran into the heiress at a showcase for artist Louis Carreon's “For the Love of Honey” collection, Uncle Buck's Gallery, H'wood. And since the even more beaming (postbars, that is, as incarceration's the new colonic in Tinseltown, didn't you know?) Sharon Tate look-alike is so hell-bent on being benevolent for her new stint as Mother Teresa, we asked how the heck jail has changed her ass?
"No comment,” came the even reply.
Now this, my darlings, is a first for the normally loquacious lithe one. She clearly is listening to that atrociously pricey rep she's hired to redo her debauched image. Not sure I like it, you?
Norman Jean Roy-Comedy Central
As prez candidates from both parties appear to be utilizing Jon Stewart’s Daily Show as a checking in, of sorts, with those who care about topics that aren’t exactly mainstream, we have some inquiry ideas for J.S. Aside from foreign policy and all that beyond hideous jazz, we think Jon should poll potential Oval Office types for their thoughts on Hollywood. For ince:
1. What, if anything, should be done about the paparazzi that trail Britney, Lindsay, Paris & Co.? Or should Brad Garrett be eventually allowed to pummel somebody with his pinkie?
2. Should stars who attend cushy rehab joints like Promises be forced to go to stiffer, more stern joints, like Oprah’s green room, for third and fourth rehab stints?
3. At what age, exactly, should your child no longer have a carefree existence and be turned into a gurgling commodity? (Lynne Spears, TomKat and Brangelina are not allowed to help out here.)