Whose celeb actions are simply, and criminally, so bad we must cite them with the same zeal Sean Penn reserves for his cocktails 'n' cocksure antics? Teri Hatcher? Pete Wentz? Tom Cruise? Yeah, babies, and that's just to start. Plus, a Hobbit is most def not at rest.
Desperate Actress: Who let Teri Hatcher loose on the American Idol stage? Ryan Seacrest, did your millisec-mance with T.H. a few years back have anything to do with the stick-thin star being allowed to destroy “Before He Cheats” in front of millions of innocent viewers? The paltry performance would be laughable in a karaoke contest, and none of the images of starving children in Africa were anywhere near as scary as Ter’s razor sharp cheekbones. Hatchy, time to lay down the mic and leave the crooning to the professionals—a 15-year old (Miley Cyrus) and a former meth addict (Fergie, whose one-handed cartwheels were as fierce as her leather jumpsuit).
Robin Wrong Penn: Though one Robin seems more than satisfied to lead the newly single life, another one ain’t enjoying being separated from her spouse. Robin Wright-Penn and hubby Sean are workin’ through their rough patch, callin’ off their callin’ it quits. We bet family, friends and fans of both actors are thrilled for their reunion, but we couldn’t be angrier at R.W.P. for crawling back to the dude, no matter how much we respect his directorial doings in Into the Wild. You’re freakin’ Princess Buttercup, Rob-hon! You deserve a princely partner. What makes you think a few months in the penalty box of single-dom has mended S.P.’s wild ways? He’s still clubbing. He’s still carousing. He’s still the man Madonna couldn’t handle—what makes you think you can?
Blinded by Beating: Oh, please. This one’s really the prime pisser for our beginning o’ the week rant—check out SayNoToViolence.org. It’s Nicole Kidman, as a United Nation’s Goodwill Ambassador, calling for an end to violence against women. Fab! About friggin’ time! But hold on a sec: The whole thing reeks of disingenuousness, which we’re certain was hardly Nic’s intent, but that’s how it comes off. Check out Ms. K’s oh-so-serious, four-eyed-styled serious-actress pose...not to mention the preposterously overly orchestrated music, reminiscent of a Spielberg war pic. And yes, hatred against women is a war, but what about violence against all humanity, sugar cakes? Shouldn’t issues, which occurred as long ago as March 13 and 14 of this year, and which involved people in your employ savagely attacking a (male) photographer, at least be addressed before we take your word on all things physically harmful, darling? What’s that? Green-doling cat got your tongue?
Oh, and on the subject of folks who are madder than Paula Abdul’s styling choices, we now return to checking in on luncheon doings over at the Chateau Marmont (just as we did last week, when we discovered Brittany Murphy is a virtually unhinged lap dancer in full stripper makeup and Charlize Theron is totally pro gay marriage). This time, poolside and seething in a hateful mood, were several execs who have dealings with the Weinsteins, producers of, among other offerings, Project Runway, which the Weinstein group just surreptitiously yanked from NBC and installed over at Lifetime—all the while reportedly having told NBC's peeps everything looked kosher for reupping there, per legal charges. Heidi Klum would no doubt have some chastising words for Mr. W, should she be critiquing him on air for his professional ways, but whatev.
“No one trusts them,” bitched a very high-up exec at one of the major studios, regarding the Weinsteins. Can’t think why.
But don’t worry, W & gang, you weren’t the only ones before the executive death squad. Valkyrie, Tom Cruise’s new flick of which you most likely have heard, also came under fire:
“It will never recoup [a reported near $100 mil price tag],” complained one expensively suited suit to the next, who then responded, “why?”
“Because it sucks,” answered the first.
I still say wait; let’s see before we eviscerate, shall we? (Save that hideousness for Tom’s hair, instead.)
Jane Lynch, relishing a morning meal at King’s Road Cafe in WeHo. J.L. breakfasted with an assistant-type peep, who clearly has the best job in the world, getting paid to hang around this hilarious gal. Jane-babe looked slinky in jeans and a black wrap—we’re always so busy busting a gut at her antics in flicks like The Forty Year Old Virgin and Best in Show that we never realized how ravishing the regal-lookin’ comedian is. More stressed and distressed elsewhere in Hell-Ay was...
Sean Astin at the United terminal at LAX, waiting in line with normal folk for a latte at Starbucks. He wore a fine pair of specs, jeans and a classy wool sports jacket, all bundled up for his final destination of Amsterdam. (No, not Middle Earth, all you Hobbit hounders.) Seanie must still be the athlete he was while filming Rudy, ‘cause he grabbed his java and hauled big ass back to catch his flight. The actor claimed the gate attendant had told him there was time to grab some coffee to go. “But I sure hope she meant it, oh boy,” said our little Sam. Here’s hopin’ S.A. safely made it to the Netherlands, well-caffeinated.
Mos Def slingin' back some spirits at Gold Bar last Monday night. (Partying on Fridays is so over.) The rapper-actor wore a black hoodie, a black T-shirt and jeans…trying to remain inconspicuous, M.D.? Doubtful, considering his choice companion for the evening was Erykah Badu. The talented twosome caught up with some friends, including DJ Reach, and the bunch enjoyed the music and mayhem—pretty easy to do when ya don't have a nin-to-fiver to wake up to the next morning, fer sure.