“I am fine. I would never do anything to hurt my daughter.”
—So fesses Heather Locklear, reported potential suicide victim, as warned by Locklear’s 911-calling shrink. More supposedly suicidal gab in Monday’s column (including Heather’s hi-effing-larious thoughts on Pam Anderson). But for now, wanted you all to know Ms. L's bitchin’ fine, even if she did have to suffer through having sex with David Spade, our editorializing, not hers. And as long as we’re on telephone chats of an urgent nature, did you know Nicole Kidman’s press rep was urgently called back to home base, right smack in the middle of her vacation? Considering those poor paparazzi (yes, I actually said that) just got smacked themselves—reportedly by some of Nic's more nutso goon-guards—I'd say that repper has a hell-hole of bloodied crap to clean up. This is far, far worse than that Cindy Adams Oscar nonsense Camp Kidman had to contend with a while back. You okay, Nic? I'd sure be quaking in my cross-trainers, too, if I were you. Now, onto the gal—forget Heather L.—who's gonna friggin' make us do ourselves in watching her pitiful grasping 25/7:
This is the best plan B her label could have asked for, trust. See, they obviously couldn’t get B.S. to almost not die—or do sitcom appearances, same diff—long enough to learn dance moves for the new vid, or head over to a professional hairdresser and not a wholesale Halloween store to find a proper wig. Smart move, music execs. They’ve learned to plan ahead. For the next single, how about Claymation? Worked for Jason and the Argonauts.
Maybe Brit-Brit’s too busy to cameo in her own damn video since she’s appearing live, in person elsewhere. Natch, B-babe scored herself a guest spot on CBS’ How I Met Your Mother, which is now officially the smartest sitcom on television.
Now that the “Doogie Howser’s Gay?!” brouhaha has quieted down, how else is a show supposed to secure ratings? Clever scripts and captivating stories? Not likely! Par-tick when celebs can be called up to come on by, a tactic that overplayed its welcome on Will & Grace, on which our dear Spearsy also guested.
But why even bother giving Brit a character to play? The writers don’t even have to bother penning dialogue. Just have the cast form an arc around her, and wait. Within five minutes she’s bound to fall over or foam at the mouth or give birth.
This is just the first stop on the Britney Jean Spears comeback train, everyone climb aboard. Woo woo! So here’s our very own Sick-Sick Six list for Ms. S’ future stunts/guest stints. How's about B guesting on...
3. Give the girl her own E! reality show à la Dina Lohan and Denise Richards. She’d actually come off as a good mother, many would say, we predict (totally partially, ‘course).
6. And finally, there’s always a slew of Harry Potter movies left...I’ve never read a single word of the series (I know, I’m a horrible, uncultured human being), but there’s gotta be an open casting call for a crazy, hairless witch in one of those flicks, n'est-ce pas?
Beastie Boys were slurpin' up some supper at Social Miami at the Sagamore Hotel. The rowdy rappers kept it chill while celebrating the B-day of one of their entourage. The boys mostly stuck to plain ol' agua, with a few glasses of classy white wine thrown in—these are the same guys who once had to fight for their right to party? Fight harder, fellas. The so-called hoedown chomped on chef's selections of seafood and steaks, capping the night off with some delish chocolate cake, complete with candles. Looks like the band needs a name change, since it seems these guys are no longer beasts or boys, trust. Also rockin' it in Ef-Hell-Ay was...
Diddy (or is it P. Diddy? Puff Daddy? Sean Combs? I give up), breaking a sweat doing cardio for about an hour at South Beach's Equinox. I'm surprised the music mogul's even got an hour to spare in his skedge for exercise. He and three bulky bod-goons showed up at the posh gym, without making a single ridiculous request for more privacy for the prince. You sure this was Diddy? Maybe hanging out with actual actor-types (we don't mean Mariah or J.Lo, either) while filming A Raisin in the Sun grounded his big-headed behind back to earth. D-whomever's security hung back at the gym's cafe, keeping an eye on their boss, just in case another workout bunny dared approach the rapper and ask him to spot her. Sporting a barbell’s worth of eyeliner was, no, not Pete Wentz, but...
Nick Stahl, keepin’ it casual at the premiere of Sleepwalking, H'wood. Stahl looked less than stunning in a gray getup of simple tee and suit jacket, but anything would seem unstellar when standing next to costar Charlize Theron. With N.S.’s eyeliner added to his scruffy mug, maybe he was dropping by a midnight showing of Velvet Goldmine after his own flick? Be careful with how much makeup ya use, Nicky, you don’t wanna end up as covered up as the Yellow Bastard you played in Sin City, nuh-uh. Desperate, too, was...
Corey Feldman (sans Corey Haim, sadly), at the Sleepwalking premiere in Hell-Ay, too. Core-babe wore ill-fitting black jeans and an atrociously unfab gray suit jacket that looked like it was pulled straight from the laundry basket. C.F. didn’t drink the whole night, good boy, but he looked mighty pissed off—was he thinking about the ultradepressing movie, or his career? Less gruff and more buff was...
Anderson Cooper, working out at New Yawk’s David Barton Gym twice a day (looks like reporting the news can wait). He’s givin’ all the eyes of the gals and guys a supreme workout, starin’ hard while he works up a cable-ready sweat! But Andy Coop isn’t known to labor on his legs, which look like two skinny white straws (mine, too) compared to the remainder of his right-on bod. The silver fox spent only five minutes on the Precor elliptical machine, then wandered off...Beware the men’s locker room, A.C., those dudes ain’t exactly known for keepin’ clean.