I Will Always Hate You

By Ted Casablanca Mar 03, 2008 8:01 AMTags
Uh, oh, we’re even more peeved than usual this Monday ayem (and we’ve got a new department to prove it), so, be prepared. If you’re Whitney Houston, Britney Spears or one of Jen Aniston’s cute little eggs, I really wouldn’t log on today if I were you. Don’t say you weren’t warned, g-friends!
It’s bitchy Monday ayem, the perf time for our inaugural Pissed List, damn it. And even though all the fiery liquids (overdoses of Diet Rockstar included) still swishing back and forth in our systems are telling us it’s Friday night, we know it ain’t. While you’re napping over your first cup o' java with about a baker’s dozen still to follow, we’ve got the grumps, and it’s not all Monday’s fault. We’re still reeling from last week’s celebrity scandals. Let’s take a time capsule back to see what’s still making us vom all over our faux grained desks.
Larry Busacca/WireImage.com

Whitney's Whatever:  Nobody’s begging for this broad to follow through on her reported “comeback” more than this cantankerous queen. But I’m getting (even more) gray hairs waiting for it, and I’m friggin' fed up. Was especially peeved when musical insiders told me—despite Clive Davis setting up recording sessions for Whitney to deliver her newly written material—that “she never makes it completely through [a session].” So snark those who are equally upset over W.H.’s tepid tries.

“It ain’t gonna happen,” says our Whitney witness, regarding a big splashy reentry into the music scene. At least, not anytime soon, say these record biz movers ‘n’ snarkers. Triple merde. (More on Ms. H latuh.)

Fame Pictures

Britney's (Shaved) Cojones:  B.S. ‘rents, Lynne and Jamie, are finally back on the scene but so are B.S.’s bad habits. Apparently the girl’s underwear is in the same place her right mind is in, 'cause it’s been MIA for so long we’re gonna have to have a dual funeral for the both.

Britters reportedly stormed into a Betsey Johnson boutique and wanted them to re-create a white Dolce & Gabbana dress by that evening. Why the rush, Spearsy? Got an appointment with Adnan at the chapel you couldn’t cancel? B-hon settled for purchasing a yellow wig, straight off a mannequin’s head, for one Benjamin. Yellow’s the new pink?

Lest you or Daddy Spears think just showing up and dining out with your daughter’s gonna do a damn thing in the long run, B-babe’s crotch cavorting is nowhere near kaput...and neither is her penchant for making boutique salesgirls squirm. Can’t anyone realize the lady has to leave Hell-Ay (if not planet Earth) before she can get any better?

James DeVaney/WireImage.com

Whoopi's Wimpiness:  Ms. Goldberg says she’s now A-okay for her supersuspicious Oscar snub: Nary a single hosting clip of the comedian’s was shown in the telecast. (Oops, did we say we were done with Oscar gab? What can we say, except, we were kidding! So sorry.) Whoops got an apology from the AA’s producer for the whoops, and bygones are cool.

Pardon us for picking this snubby scab, but W.G., you were an emcee four times, and you were both the first female host and the first African-American host. Simple oversight? Bullmerde to moi. Allow us to now be offended that you’re taking this lying down, Whoo. Thought you were more aggressive than that.

ODuran/Fame Pictures

Paris' Manacles:  P-poo and Benji Madden are the comeliest couple o’ the week. Benji-boy's been shacking up with the pooch-poofing heiress mere weeks after ending his engagement to Aussie actress Sophie Monk.

B.M. reportedly plopped a ring on Par’s digits, which is surprising—not because their relaysh is moving at flashbulb-flickering speed, but because Benny-babe was able to obtain a ring big enough to fit on P.H.’s huge hands. Plus, blondie’s already up on Good Charlotte’s website in a so-called “family” photo. But why stop there? Where’s the sex tape, kiddos? Where’s the giant “That’s Hot” tattoo inked on your scrotum, Benj?

Some think it’s a PR ploy or the most rancid rebound of all time, but I think their coupling is just a plain old case of sibling rivalry gone socialite-ified. Joel got the better looks in the fam, and then he obtained the more famous (and more useless) g-f. You know Benny-boy wanted to trump his twin so terribly, and there’s no one more infamous and more willing to bang pretty much anybody, in at least some fashion, than Ms. Hilton. No wonder Marilyn Katzenberg, David’s mama, is shizzing her Lean Cuisines over D’s affair with robo-sis Nicky.

Jeff Vespa/WireImage.com
We must comment—less pissed, more worried—on all things frozen and Jen Aniston. Now, you heard the goss, right? That Ms. A’s supposedly had her eggs frozen for futcha Vince Vaughn baby goes or equally ridiculous scenarios? Right, of course you did.
INFDaily.com
Every time we contact Aniston’s recalcitrant rep, he lectures us for checking on items that range from whom Jen’s dating to how she’s getting over Brad. We are told, consistently, that these issues are personally intrusive and that we should boil ourselves in Jen’s Mystic Tan cauldron and be ashamed for even asking. This from the Camp Aniston that provided a virtual tear-stained cornucopia of intimate poor-me sobbing to Vanity Fair. Message: Don’t ask unless you’re a journalistic institution that throws $3 million parties. Fine.
So, let’s say the embryo item is completely false. It had better be, unless Jenny-doll wants to save herself from a heap o’ femme trouble. We checked with the docs who, uh, helped a certain very famous movie-star couple try to have kids for nearly a decade—to miserable avail. Their dismal report:
“Success rates of using frozen embryos are so low,” reports Desk M.D. Imagine! A white-coat type using italicization for emphasis! So dramatic! “Less than five percent survive the thaw and can be inseminated successfully.”
Damn. What a depressingly pitiful percentage. But you wanna hear the really hurtful report from this doctor crowd? And it’s not even medical-speak: “I guess she really doesn't want to adopt, because that would be too Angelina-esque.”
How horrible! So scathing. Those overpaid jokers might as well be in the public-relations field. And since when do doctors add esque to anything? That’s a fagola suffix, only.