Oh, crap, I suppose I have to join the rest of the gossiping world and at least pretend to care about TomKat’s impending nuptials, supposedly happening any second now! In Rome, no less! So very glam.
Jeez, Tom, you announce your love for Katie on Oprah’s beloved (and tortured) couch, propose to Ms. Holmes in Paris and now are getting hitched in La Dolce Vita land? Ever do anything on a small scale, bud?
I mean, the smartest thing you could do, at this precarious point in your infamously stalled career, is to marry your sweetheart in her ‘rents' Ohio backyard and have a barbecue to celebrate. That humble act alone would win back at least a third of your apparently forever-lost female audience, I assure you.
But this jet-setting s--t is for the tabloid birdies, as far as I’m concerned, and nobody else is buying into this overly extravagant hoo-ha. I mean, it’s your third friggin’ wedding! Calm it down a tad, no?
Whatev. Like you give a Scientology-sanctioned poop what I think, I know.
So, it is with great trepidation (‘cause all I really want to gab about is that damn movie which I know, one day, is gonna get T.C. the Oscar I, alone, think he deserves) that I proceed with the following juice, and it’s fresh. Seconds ago, this sweet stuff was dripped my way by a J.Lo fruit with the tastiest (never sour) connections to the diva herself:
J.Lo and that caterer-waiter-looking hub-unit of hers, Marc Anthony, have been invited to attend Tom and Katie’s wedding. Why, I wonder, since Mrs. L. and Tom do not seem at all close to moi. But J.&M. are quite chummy, on a spiritual level, with Leah Remini, the curvy, real-life mean girl from The King of Queens.
Perhaps we have some new, secret Scientologists—a Puerto Rican couple with the mostest—in the making? But you did not hear this from me.
Oh, like, totally forgot to say that, well...I don’t know what to make of this, but I’m told sources who are being paid to haul this fancy-ass crowd across the pond that the big hitching just might happen today, as in Thursday, and not Saturday, as previously reported. (Then again, this could be a media red herring, à la that fake J.Lo seen out ‘n’ about during the Bennifer pre-wedding debacle, remember?) Camp Cruise would not comment.
Sheesh! Also neglected (that’s what happens when you let your damn gray hair grow out—you start friggin’ acting the part!) to mention that Tom and Katie are being most generous to their starry invitees, offering to supply hair and makeup artists. Ripe for said services are guests Steven Spielberg, who's badly in need of a makeover, and Kirstie Alley and Posh Spice, who have both had too many.
Oh, brother, what is this, a Paramount Pictures production, or a couple’s most cherished moment together? Oops! Completely forgot: Tom got axed by the former and never bothers, off camera, with the latter. Silly me.
Missus Anthony, by the by, declined the TomKat glam-team offer and decided to hire her own, quelle surprise. (Could this have anything to do with the fact that Katie Holmes is looking more and more like a cross between Catherine Zeta-Jones and Kathy Griffin?)
Have fun, all you chicly coiffed coolio cats! Save me a slice o’ the groom’s cake, ‘kay? I promise to freeze it forever, along with Mr. C.’s chances for making my Oscar dreams come true...
Let me just ask one more bitchy thing, as if I haven’t been Leah Remini-esque enough already: What the eff is J.Lo doing flying Roma-way-a on John Travolta’s private jet, as I hear is the gas-guzzling plan?
I mean, didn’t she drop out of the movie version of Dallas largely because she didn’t like Mr. T. in the role of über-bad boy J.R.? I mean, whah, Jennifer?
You think Johnny boy’s only good for playing a chauffeur at 37,000 feet or a drag queen?
Speaking of testy broads, Sharon Stone took a break from promoting Bobby (along with her, I kid you not, eight changes of clothing during a no-frills press junket) this past weekend. S2 hit Ef-Hell-Ay’s Miami Beach with her agent. They had dinner at the Forge on Saturday, and Ms. Baser Instinct, ever the fawning type, asked to meet the resto's chef, with whom she embarked on an animated, all-evening chat and cozy tour of the wine cellar. Before leaving, leggy Shar-doll said she'd most def be back. The question is, Will she be back for the food and wine...or the chef?
My guess, the cook. Sharon, aren’t you getting too old for this high school stuff?
And at the Behind the Camera Awards, presented by Hollywood Life and Hamilton in Hollywood, our gal Shar was on hand to give the superproducer award to Holly Wiersma for her flick Bobby. I asked S-babe how it was working with Lindsay Lohan, who’s either a nightmare or an angel on-set, depending on whom you ask.
"I think she’s a dedicated actress who’s learning her craft and has been in some interesting movies this year," Sharon sidestepped. (Just My Luck, anyone?) "And we’re glad she picked this one to take this message to the people of her generation, who are really young and important voters."
Oh, hell, where’s a handsome dude with a spatula to nab the truth outta that broad when you need one?