Where the hell will all this end, already? With Mary Hart doing a Housewives gag on ET—as some sort of makeshift fill-in skit? Oh, wait, she already does that.
That’s right, lest you forget, the moniker “Dr.” can be prescribed for those who are actually trained medical professionals, as well as those who just get Ph.D.'s—and daytime talk shows! And you don’t need four years of med school to call your show any damn thing ya like, if it's entertainment, of course.
Philly Cheesesteak got his start interning in the shrink arena by doing one-on-one therapy sessions while, we kid you not, doing construction and reportedly selling gym memberships. (Micky D’s wasn’t hiring?) His therapy practice ran into a little woops in 1989, when McGraw got in some trubs with a 19-year-old client of his. She claimed her relationship with the doc was “sexually inappropriate,” although Phil insists his innocence...besides the part where he gave the young girl a job, a def no-no.
The pre-Hollywood Phil McGraw didn’t get any star treatment when he was ordered by the appropriate regulating body to “take an ethics class, pass a jurisprudence exam, complete a physical evaluation, undergo a psychological evaluation and have his practice supervised for one year in order to continue his private practice in Texas.” What did the doc do as a result? Close up shop and run to another city!
The boys (and I do mean boys—all four members’ ages range from 20 to 22!) were on hand to promote their upcoming album, along with headlining the 2008 Honda Civic Tour...which probably required a signed permission slip from their parents. After the young'uns sassed the crowd with some new tunes, none other than Fall Out Boy-toy Pete Wentz decided to appear, wearing his standard uniform of a hoodie, a cocksure smirk and a visor of flat-ironed hair covering half his face like he’s the Phantom of the Emo.
I’m surprised he even had five minutes to spare apart from running his own label, designing his own clothing line and stroking Ashlee’s ego. It’s a full-time job romancing a Simpson!
Now the burned Betty’s gotta suck up her sorrow and play nice with the smallish dude, since their flick’s headed to Sundance. But why try and hide the bad vibes? Drama sells. Mr. & Mrs. Smith would have been just a run-of-the-mill action movie if it weren't for the Jennifer-Brad-Angie controversy surrounding it, 'course. (Then again, Jimmy Fallon is no Brad Pitt. At. All.)
If they know what’s good for them and the film’s fate, Fallon and his old whatever should throw mimosas and snowballs in each other’s faces for all of Park City to see.