Hip-hip ho-ray, Morgan Mayhem's returned for a weird-ass Blind Vice, and she's nuttier than merde! Plus, Matthew McConaughey, Star Jones, Usher, Clay Fakin' and P. Hilton all continue their par-tick brands of oddly compelling behavior—at least this damn looney enclave never gets boring.
As if Clay Aiken’s reported fatherhood isn’t baffling enough for humankind (forget Hollywood-kind), we’ve got further coupling conundrums to tackle below, as well as on my tacky new show, Truth Lies and Ted, which now goes up every Thursday. We've got some major BS to sift through in this town, right? Why not a little help from yours truly doing so? Oh, and as far as Clay goes—more on that joker Monday—I think Entourage’s Emmanuelle Chriqui told us last night at the Zohan premiere best how to navigate this insane community: “Don’t try to be something you’re not.” Listening, Clay-babe?
Backstories on the rich ‘n’ infamous: Star Jones seemed quite an odd sight at Cannes, simply ‘cause this film fest had nary a thing to do with the ex lawyer, ex TV host and ex Missus Al Reynolds. In fact, what the ef does Star do nowadays, besides complain? Starry couldn’t stop venting about the reports that exy Al might pen a tome revealing all their matrimonial secrets...and then some. In fact, Jonesy got jacked up on a few too many champs at the Chopard party and, according to spew-witnesses, was a “nasty drunk," getting annoyed when no one knew who she was, atrociously and arrogantly so. Guess we now know France doesn’t dub The View in French.
A.R. has denied doing what is such a standard practice of celeb-couple separating, via his rep; still the questionably butch Al stated on his blog: “What the world doesn't know about me would fill a book.” Yeah, but it’s the stuff that no one knows about Star that could fill a few volumes. Barbara Walters already got the ball rolling with her autobiography. Why don’t you finish the job, Reynolds? You’re so doing it, official word be damned. At least, that’s what I hear. What else ya gonna do, babe-poo?
Another discarded dame who certainly should get herself into the blab-all biz is Sarah Larson, who got farther than most climbing up Mount Clooney, but unfortunately, gal never quite made it to the top. Think her trek was surreptitiously sabotaged by Clooney nabe (and slobberer) Teri Hatcher? Hey, at least S.L. scored some sweet tickets to the Oscars and the Leatherheads premiere—though sitting through the latter may not have been such a tasty prize, after all.
Sare-babe prolly has the biggest dish on the graying H’wood heartthrob since Renée Zellweger, but we’re afraid her penned offering would just be filled with the tired nice-guy clichés we keep hearing on and on about George the Gent. Now, what kind of guy breaks up with so many lovely ladies and yet not one of 'em has anything bad to say about him? Obviously, a man with some secrets to keep and the charm and power to keep them hidden. It’s the same sitch with Nicole Kidman, only minus the manners.
Cheer up, Sarah, we know this is a hard week for you, having to reapply to get your old Vegas cocktail waitress gig back. You shoulda known no woman can replace the hole in Georgie Boy’s heart after his pet pig passed away two years ago. As it goes—hogs before hos, we suppose.
Need a little love pick-me-up? Burned out by all this couple-hating that so many T-town twosomes seem to preoccupy themselves with? Run to see Sex and City. It's terrifically sweet, albeit incredibly fake stuff—like Big would evuh be this nice to Carrie, in reality. But whatev. Kim Cattrall's genius, best thing in the movie, which ain't bad at all. I predict Sex and the Suburbs for the all-too-obvious sequel. Enjoy!
Further word from down Tejas way: Matthew McConaughey’s fam is very concerned that his preggers g-f, Camila Alves, has “essentially moved her family in, and they're making themselves quite at home.” Not for certain if C's clan is sharing the Airstream or if they have formed a tent city around it, but some not exactly kind words have been getting some heavy usage ‘round the McConaughey bongo cabinet. Not by M2, mind you, but others who are apparently quite jealous of the curvy hon’s hold on the famously buxom guy.
Eh, it’s an old story, isn’t it? Supertight fam (as so many barbecuing Texan types tend to be) is suddenly threatened by the new va-va-voomer’s spell over their darling boy?
I really wouldn’t worry here too much. M.M. knows exactly what he’s doing with that gal he’s “making a baby” with, believe it or not.
Usher's been making the rounds promoting his new album, Here I Stand, but the hip-hop hottie’s music—and his mind—took a backseat, as I’m sure you famously heard, when he stopped pimping his tunes and started defending himself on TRL. Ushie’s downward spiral started when he dispelled all rumors about him and his missus, Tameka Foster, parting ways. “Not true,” he lovingly claims, showing off his wedding bling. Touching.
That musta sparked somethin’ in the guy’s brain, 'cause he quickly went bananas. “I’m tired of people continuing to talk so much trash about me and my relationship,” started Ush-babe, just getting warmed up. “My wife is not 40 years old, I love her to death and I’m a black soul man in America standing up for my people as a man, to my wife, to my son, to my family. I’m making a stand that a lot of us should make. I coulda been like any other man who has a child and lives with that woman and continues to play the game. But I’m trying to do it the right way. This is the right way. Pay attention, fellas.”
Guess everyone, not just the guys, was indeed paying attention at this point, since it’s always an interesting sight when a celeb loses their head on live TV. Also, we love how a rumor about a female hitting 40 is so upsetting it needs to be publicly denounced. The MTV VJ on the scene thought the storm had passed, but five seconds later, Ushie bounced back toward the camera.
“And my wife had nothing to do with me firing my mother, that’s trash! She’s a beautiful black woman. Stop, stop talking. And I love her. Stop it.”
What’s with TRL being the last stop on the breakdown train? We were half expecting Ush-hon to come strolling out in a pair of heels and hot pants, wheeling in an ice cream cart à la Mariah Carey immediately preceding her 2001 hospitalization for “extreme exhaustion.” No wonder MTV doesn’t play any more damn videos when it’s the reality drama that gets the biggest buzz.
Let’s examine. We threw on our best bitch face and headed over to goss rag In Touch's Summer Stars fete at Social Hollywood last week, tho we weren’t exactly sure which particular so-called “stars” were being celebrated at the soiree. Around midnight, the premiere Hilton, Paris, and her b-f bud, Benji Madden, showed up, cutting the crowd in two like they were British royalty...or at least king and queen of the senior prom. A posse of cameramen and photographers followed their every step like they were the tail of the most attention-craving peacock around. Pare-poo wore a brown cocktail dress while Benj was in all black, wearing sunglasses indoors. Seriously? Guy starts snogging a socialite and he thinks he’s too good to make eye contact with the normal people anymore?
While he spun, the star snuck up to the DJ platform and snuggled up to him, smiling like an idiot trying to distract him from his gig.
Eventually Pare-hon grew tired of playing second fiddle to Ben Maddy’s actual work effort, so she strutted down to the VIP section where her parents were holed up.
Kathy Hilton was dressed to the Bel Air nines in a chic blanche coat and stiletto boots, looking younger than an absent Nicky, who was prolly off not eating somewhere. Hil-babe sat herself down and ate a late dinner, while daddy Rick stood at attention, shielding his baby girl from onlookers for a few moments while she nourished her bod with something other than body butter. God forbid anyone take a photo of Paris Hilton swallowing something—her reputation would be ruined.
Morgan Mayhem's polluted thinking in today's Blind Vice installment is so out there, she actually makes pink-wigged Spears seem like a pretty together chick. When is somebody gonna save poor M2's soul? Uh, is never good for you?