Who's not really so very back together on that snaky mosh pit otherwise known as The Hills? Plus, Jamie Lynn and Britney Spears screw it up, per usual (you're surprised?), while Owen Wilson shakes it up—and how.
Damn, it’s Monday already. We needed more cooling-down time from this horrendous heat—it’s as hot here in Hell-Ay as it is between Britney’s work-out gear and her slowly decreasing bum, ‘cause you know nothing ever comes between girlfriend and her Spandex. Bitching of, Ms. S starts off our Pissed List this week quite nicely:
Brit 'n' Run: Britney's mental health might be getting slightly better every day, but her longstanding legal woes are still following her. Don’t worry, tho, gal’s a celeb; she’ll be fine ‘n’ slightly less delirious in no time. B-girl’s attorney is attempting to have her misdemeanor charge of driving sans a Cali license dismissed, since B.S. doesn’t consider herself a full-time Hell-Ay resident. Despite owning tons of property here, living in SoCal full-time and getting married here (the last time). “Britney still intends to live in Louisiana,” claims Lynne Spears, who submitted a declaration on behalf of her daughter. Brit-Brit is starting to sound like a seventh grader who constantly excuses her actions by saying the damn dog ate her crack bill or by getting mom to do all the work for her. Can we ask Mama Casablanca to be the conservator over our “estate” so we never have to take responsibility for anything ever again?
As Maddie As Hell: Jamie Lynn Spears gave birth to her daughter, Maddie Briann, not at celeb-center Cedars-Sinai, nope, but back near home in nieghboring Mississippi. Now that both Spears sisses are supposedly running away from Hell-Ay, they’re sure to still have the paps’ attention deep in the South. Now, what we’re peeved about—other than being denied the chance to run into Brit-babe at our local Rite-Aid—is that that area of the country is in desperate need of attention for some real concerns, and yet it’s some real pop snobs who are snatching up the spotlight. Guess what? It takes longer than three years to rebuild a washed-away community still horribly hurt after a hurricane. Is it impossible for anyone to focus on the bigger issues while a starlet is out and about the same place? If we gossip-hounds can glance away from the dubious glamour for a millisecond, so can you: check out the Louisiana Help website to give a little back, since you know you’ve given enough of your time to the Spears siblings.
Ferris Bueller’s Ef Off: Matthew Broderick really is losing it. Always adored the guy—Sarah Jessica’s man knows the board like nobody’s business (ever check out The Producers?). And his early flicks were brilliant. He’s the deadpan dork par excellence, fer sure. But what the hell gives with all these pasty, chubby, white-ass roles he keeps taking over and over, like The Stepford Wives and now Finding Amanda, with Brittany Snow, out this week? Thought it was going to be a nice departure for Mr. B, as he plays a gambling-and-booze addict searching Vegas for his niece, Snow, who’s a drug-sniffin’ hooker, sweet departure from Hairspray, eh, girlfriend? But Broderick, twice Snow’s age, is still doing the same kid-who-can’t-grow-up routine, even while portraying the most pathetic has-been character of his life. Put the dumb-butt dimples away, once and for all, we beg of you, Matty!
Usurping Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise from their pedestal of Most Annoying Celeb Couple—sorry Posh 'n' Becks, it ain’t you anymore—is the entity known as Speidi. H&S have big ol' dreams of a Virgin Islands wedding, complete with Wolfgang Puck catering and U2 performing. Getting Bono to show up is one obstacle—he’s a do-gooder, not a do-anything-er. And to celebrate their serious commitment to one another, the engaged nitwits allegedly want their upcoming nuptials to be as real as their reality-ish show, and be filmed live on TV. Wake us up when they want to film their honeymoon live on TV, 'cause that’s the only way we’re watching.
Hills cutie Brody Jenner hit up new Hell-Ay hot spot Coco de Ville Tuesday night. Natch, B’s bud boy Frankie Delgado was in tow, as well as Jenner’s on-again, off-again g-f Cora Skinner. With no cameras in sight filming the “reality” show, a clubgoer said B-babe and C were still very much together. “He was really attentive to her and wasn’t even looking or flirting with the flock of girls that surrounded him.” Quite unusual for Lauren’s former flame. Could B.J. be ready to settle down? My money’s on a big fat N-O. I give them a couple of months until Brody dumps his model honey and goes back to his condom-wearing dubious ways. More goings-down in the land of douche dalliances follows:
A Hills party was thrown late last week at Hell-Ay’s glitzy Green Door—a sophisticated locale for the silly Hills peeps—for Lauren "Lo" Bosworth's graduation. All the regulars you can imagine were in attendance, including a few other choice D-listers on the VIP list. Shane West, the once good-lookin’, if not yawningly uninteresting, dude from Once and Again and A Walk to Remember showed up, ready and willing for any photo op to prove he’s still alive. We only mention this man’s presence 'cause of his connection to one par-tick Patridge chick.
Shane said some unkind words about Audrina (and how she smooches indiscriminately, quelle horreur!), as you may or may not have heard. We doubt this doll has really changed all that much from her PDA, man-macking days, tho one clubgoer at the fete insists that A.P. and Justin Bobby are “definitely still dating...They were out together last week.” Interesting, 'cause we’ve also heard that Mr. J.B. is makin’ the rounds with some other untelevised girls. One Bobby seduction victim herself claims how he was yappin’ 'bout how he and Audrina are just “best friends,” but the MTV folks insist on making them a couple on screen. Nothing like scripted reality huh?
Regardless, Westy shouldn’t be throwing any spit-swapping stones around in the small space, since not a millisecond after badmouthing the babe, he laid some seriously sloppy slobbering all over his gal pal. Drunk, wet and gross-like. We’re glad we didn’t have to see it—it’s bad enough imagining it.
While S.W. was suffocating his femme friend, the producers scrambled all over the place to make sure continuity was kept within each take. All the tables were adorned with fake candles, ensuring zero risk of different wax levels between takes. Ya know, just like reality. If the show is so unfake, as it claims, then why was grad guest of honor, Lo, indulging in her smoking habit when the cameras weren’t rolling? That wouldn’t be role-model behavior for the show’s teen fans, would it? And neither are nude pix released on the web, Aud-hon.
Almost as bitchy as we A.T.-ites are my fabulous fellow big-hair types in Dallas. You know, my legions of stiffly sprayed hons who are veddy well connected to the kookier merde goin’ down in my old hometown. Like the fact that the "get" amongst real-estate babes is to arrange for George and Laura their new Dallas digs, post-White House. May be a tough sell—hear the heathens who are responsible for Iraq are leaning toward building. How ‘bout erecting homes for all the widows and widowers of those soldiers you’re responsible for killing, too, while you’re at, hon-pies?
But something funnier did go down in Big-D recently, and I can at least help get your minds off the previous hideous subject a bit: Local-boy-made-good Owen Wilson went into a sporting goods store. Let’s say he was resembling fellow Texas-stud Matthew McConaughey a bit in the feelin’ no pain arena O.W. hit the athletic wear department.
Apparently, the O-man’s a runner, as he requested from the clerk—so insists the worker bee himself—a particular pair of shorts, a pair that had a special compartment cut out from the crotch. So, a specific part of Owen’s anatomy could jog free and unrestrained...so monstrously large this body part must be.
And, no, ‘twas not the boy’s ego.