Eclipse Set Goes Into Lockdown
Summit has us just where they want us. And by us, we mean Robsten fans, Twilight fans and the media.
See, Team Awful is planning on making an impromptu (totally!) trip up to Vancouver, B.C., very shortly to do a little Eclipse snooping since everyone on set is MIA in the media and all mouths are on may-jah lockdown.
We put a call in to Summit to see if we could get any on-set access ('cause how much Twi pimping do we do?), not to molest Robert Pattinson or anything, but just to observe a bit of how filming is going.
Let's just say they didn't say, "Ted and Taryn, come on down!" Two's company though, because we were told not even Oprah's being granted permission to visit the set. Swear. The Big O…zero access. It's friggin' nuts!
Well, don't forget:
Does Tyra Want to Give Up Her TV Empire?
Out of all the bigass disappointments at the Met Costume Gala—and there were a ton—the biggest one by far was Tyra Banks. Not her fashion choice, tho we can't say we fell head over stilettos in love with that odd black frock. It was the typically mouthy babe's total lack of personality.
"Tyra Banks was so far from her funny and cool persona on her TV show," says a fellow galagoer. "She was way too 'model' and was just flashing model faces left and right. I hated that."
Tyra keeping quiet? What friggin' alternate universe are we in? Could she be realizing that she shouldn't turn her back on her former career just yet?
Caught! D.C. Is the New Sundance
Tom Hanks and T.I., touching down for Obama's Inauguration Saturday. Both were separately escorted through the private VIP arrivals part of Dulles airport, no shocker there. However, both were MIA from the real celeb hangout with...
Exclusive
Spied in Hawaii: Who's That Cuddling With Oprah?
Oprah is such an interesting woman. It seems the bigger she gets, the more benevolent she becomes, right? ‘Cause those bitchy Hermès days seem more associated with her still-struggling-to-diet times, right? Just a thought, that’s all.
But look, Ms. O—whom Barack Obama owes his likely presidency to, in my unhumble opinion—just took all her top Harpo (Oprah spelled backwards, remember, for all you self-obsession cops out there, and I know there are leagues of ya) peeps to the exclusive Hawaiian isle of Lana'i. It's just a skip and a private plane ride over from Maui, where Ms. O has bought up heaps of estates and sacred land. She’s the Trump of the tropics, babes, we swear!
So O-hon spent buttloads on grub and food, posh table settings, glam meals spread out right on the ocean, like it was some friggin’ five-star picnic or something. There were printed menus with “Harpo” smacked on top, and then every little goodie which would be then going down your lucky gullet was listed below. O-babe was festive in white and florals, and a darling flowery hair band to match. Huge hoop earrings made her look just too beach mod, ya know. Was fab for everybody.
And who was the lucky gal or gent who got to be O’s date? What equally beautifully coiffed being helped cohost this overindulged affair? Stedman? Gayle? Barack? (He certainly gets around—on planes, that is). Nope, nope and nope. “It was her cocker spaniel,” spilled one of the lucky feted ones. Oh dear, Oprah. Babe-poo, you’re rich as effin’ sin, couldn’t ya find a little lovin’ to help ya giggle in all the right places? You so deserve it!




