Sienna Miller and her married dude-toy put us in an even crankier mood than usual with today's Pissed List, not to mention the Emmys, which are looking to be another friggin' yawnfest. Plus, who's trying to curb his man-slut ways? Say it ain't so!
Oh, all right, it’s Monday, and we’re snittier than evuh, so let’s get to it—time for a handful of Advils and the Pissed List!:
Blog Me a River: CelebSpacing’s a nasty, growing trend, and let us say we are not fans. Paris (hooray for spell check), Lauren Conrad and others are using MySpace to do our jobs. Case in point: L.C. “typed” away, rushing to her own defense saying she upheld her end of the bargain regarding the Paws for Style event in New Yawk, and that we shouldn’t believe what folks from the charity said about her unprofessional behavior. Uh, why should we believe you, Lauren? Clearly your post is slanted in your favor, so why don’t you all stop cutting us out and let us do our jobs, already.
Pimpin’ All Over the World: If you think being married with four children implies fidelity and commitment, then obviously you and Rosetta Getty are BFFs. Like no duh you’ve seen the pics of Sienna Miller and Balthazar Getty (yes, as in R’s hubby still) getting PG-13 frisky over in Italy, and sadly poor Rosie has, too. I mean that blows for us Plain Janes ‘n’ Joes. Possessing fame, money and beauty doesn’t mean you get to grope your slutty paws all over whomever you want, S. Have some respect. Who do you think you are, Rose McGowan?
Cutting Off Her Puss: Catherine Zeta-Jones has been running that gorgeous trap about her disdain for Hell-Ay and pretty much anyone who lives here. Scratch-Cat said, "I hate Los Angeles with a passion...I don't know how people live there, especially with kids." Whoa there, you avaricious little acting-dynasty infiltrator. Don’t like living among your own kind, is that it? And even though this may be an effed up city at times, it’s where millions of us call home, not to mention where most of the money you didn’t marry into comes from. In other words, don’t bitch the hand that feeds you, bitch.
Primetime Snoozefest: So the Emmy Award noms went out last week, and it took all our willpower just to read through them. It feels like we’re trapped in a Hollywood version of Groundhog Day because it’s largely been the same friggin’ list for the past too many years. We could hardly contain our enthusiasm when we read that Mariska Hargitay, Steve Carell, Hugh Laurie and Jeremy Piven were nominated! Like, we get it—they’re great actors, but mix it up a little, already. Throw in a little Britney Spears supporting stuff for good measure. You know her outfit to the event would provide more entertainment than the whole damn ceremony.
With the All-Star game and Dark Knight premiere in New Yawk last week, the metroplex was flooded with has-beens and wannabes. Between Kirsten Dunst and Justin Long meandering the streets together in the cute 'n’ trendy SoHo area and A-Rod's bash sans Madonna, InWhySee certainly was the place to be and be gossed ‘bout. But let’s face it, gabmongers, everything intéressant happens when the sun goes down.
Josh Hartnett was out at the It spot o’ the moment, the Box. J was casually hanging in the quaint club, checking out the scene and taking in the raunchy burlesque show that played about every hour or so late into the ayem. Josh-babe enjoyed as much of the peep show as possible, seeing as J.H. had a habit of making trips to the bathroom for longer-than-usual periods of time. Damn those Long Islands, huh, J?
Also greasing up the city was the male version of Paris Hilton, Mr. Brandon Davis. Oily B hit up hot joint Butter Monday night, and a clubgoer described Davis’ behavior as most bizarre: “He was not as creepy as he usually is,” said a party pal, familiar with B.D.’s lurky ways. “He kept his hands to himself while dancing and boozing at his table, which is so unlike the always-on-the-prowl Davis.” Could this change of character have anything to do with a new gal in B’s life? Heavens to Firecrotch, hope not. Brando has been fueling supposedly rehabbed wind to the rumor mill as of late about a possible re-mance with model Miranda Kerr. We don’t buy that M-doll would downgrade that much from cutie Orlando, but hey, sure, seen weirder things in this Biz.
The Ben Stiller family comedy A Night at the Museum is going another round, with an even more impressive cast, all sure to become toys sold at the Natural History Museum gift shop. Christopher Guest will play Ivan the Terrible, SNL's and Superbad’s Bill Hader will suit up as General George Custer and Reno 911's Thomas Lennon and Robert Ben Garant will play the Wright Brothers. That’s a whole lotta funny fellas they’ve got lined up—we wish every kid-friendly flick had a laugh-out-loud lineup like this.
But why stop at just a sprinkling of new talent if you can add a bucketful of big stars to the sequel? Here are a few of our pics of celebs who would do an über-fab job of making a historical cameo in the new Night flick...
Cate Blanchett could play Queen Elizabeth in her sleep. Bet the Virgin Queen is C.B.’s Halloween costume every year. (A sex-ay version, ‘course.)
Nicole Kidman could easily play the Virgin Mary. Nicky knows a thing or two about mysterious pregnancies. Tho we’re inclined to believe Mary had a bigger bump than N.K., even without photo documentation.
Jared Leto , we’re certain, would flip on his Method switch immediately and scarf down cheeseburgers nonstop to play President Taft. A lot more respected than John Lennon's killer, even if he did get stuck in a bathtub. Still not as embarrassing as some of Dubya’s doings, that’s fer sure.
Katherine Heigl would fit right in as Joan of Arc, who kept hearing voices telling her God had handpicked her to do great things. Think Joan woulda insulted everything the Almighty gave her to say?
The Hills trash-talkers would surely fill the roles of every Puritan during the Salem witch trials. Goody Montag and Goody Conrad keep bitching about everyone in this secluded little group, trying to burn one another at the stake. Hey, was The Scarlett Letter based on a true story, too? A bright red A would fit Audrina Patridge to a perf tee, n’ est-ce pas?
Tom Cruise could show off an even worse haircut than his bangy blahness and grow a Hitler ‘stache to play the führer. No, we aren't comparing Cruise to the wicked dictator—we just think Tommy deserves a second chance of finally perfecting that German accent that apparently bothered him while filming Valkyrie, but which the director then told him to ditch. Wonder why.