por Ted Casablanca | Traducido por | mar., 21 nov. 2006 6:45 PM
Rogers & Cowan/Robert Evans
So, last Saturday I was doing what I hate to do most (as I live for my main man, Tommy Cruise), but I just had to go and pooh-pooh on all that TomKat wedding hoopla on the too fun Today show. (After the live gig, my coblabbing head, Us Weekly’s Janice Minn, told me the only reason she didn’t jump in there with me was because she was still waiting for Cruise’s reps to send the wedding photos. Oh, jeez, ya mean UW doesn’t believe all this fairy tale romance crap, either?) And while media types like moi were doing it up, where was Katie Cruise’s ex, Chris Klein?
Hmmm. Well, last Saturday, while K.C. was participating in whatever legal (or not) shenanigans she was pursuing in Italy, Mr. K., who still has a very nice bum, I must say, was presiding over the lighting of the Baccarat chandeliers and the falling of UNICEF snowflakes on Rodeo Drive. So very thrilling.
What, is this overpriced crystal the new code quartz to participate in if you have some involvement with the over-hyped couple, but—if you choose not to drink the TomKat Kool-Aid—you go Baccarat instead?
Nicole Kidman, remember, sent not herself to Italy but...a Baccarat vase.
Oh, and before we get to this week’s sharp-as-cut-crystal mailbag, lemme tell ya ‘bout the runway at the Victoria's Secret show here in Hell-Ay. Was pretty hot, but the real show was goin' down at the after-do, held at the Roosevelt.
All the usual suspects, including Paris, Nicole, Justin Timberlake and the VS Angels, rendezvoused there, post-catwalk. Happy to report that some of the sex-ay strut sirens do actually eat: A gorgeous Gisele was seen chompin' on not one, but two burgers ‘n’ fries while dancin' the night away. She eats fast food and can multitask? My kinda model!
Adriana Lima, on the other masticating hand, chose to chain-smoke, while Paris opted to suck on Stavros' face for a while before storming off, apparently pissed, for whatev reason— does it matter anymore?
Funny thing: P.H. and supposed BFF-again Nicole were seated together in the front row for the show and yukked it up for photogs. But inside the after-party, the two Simple Life hons didn't spend any time together. Nic sat between two model dudes and texted up a storm.
You two sick of each other already? I pray not.
More friendly was Stacy Keibler, who literally chased Justin into the VIP enclave, holding on to his shirt for the overly guarded ride. Cameron Diaz was nowhere to be seen, by the by. But I live for Ms. D. even more than I do the reemergence of Paris ‘n’ Nic's newfound love, so I’ll pretend I didn’t just write that.
I enjoy reading your column every day, so it really pains me to take issue with you on anything, mon ami! But I must disagree with your recent description of Robert Downey Jr. in the film Fur. I have seen Mr. Downey, Iron Man himself, in person. The man is drop-dead gorgeous!
Fort Worth, Texas
Dear Downey Dreamer:
You been imbibing in some o' the chemicals Bobby’s known for? Darling, he’s talented as hell, but he looks 150.
I think I've got this one! Is Whip-Me Mendelson from One Homo-Handed Blind Vice really Dominic Monaghan? Please don't let the "veddy famous reclusive celeb" be Viggo Mortensen. This would wreck my fantasy life. Tell me it ain't so!
Dear Hobbit Horny:
You’re safe, the lovers ain’t D. and V. Think so much less attractive, it’s a crime, I’m sorry to report.
Glenn Weiner/ZUMA Press
I think you’d be surprised at how many of us in the Midwest do like Ellen D. The reason a lot of us have quit watching the awards shows is that they are boring. It has nothing to do with the sexual orientation of the emcee.
Dear Podium Put-Out:
I have great faith Ellen will sensibly, not stupidly, spice up the big O ceremony this time round, so make a date to watch, 'kay? And I’m glad to hear I may be wrong about the sexual benevolence of the country’s hinterlands.
Would just lurve it too much if One Homo-Handed Blind Vice was all about Rummy and Dubya! (P.S. Not as much as I love the column, though.)
Vienna, West Virginia
Dear White House Wonderer:
Too funny, honey, but it ain’t that terrible twosome. If it was them, though, Rummy would be the punisher, don’t you think? I do.
Ash Knotek /ZUMA Press.com
Congratulations on one spectacular Blind Vice last week. My guess for W.M.M. is Hayden Christensen. You describe his career to a tee, but I'm not sure if he has been in the news lately.
Thanks for the naughty kudos, doll, but the leather accoutrement required for boy-on-boy nooky play is not preferred by Mr. C., at least as far as I know. Think diff league in the career arena, not to mention looks-wise. Similar coifs, though.
I realize that show biz is show biz, but I'm wondering how much Lindsay Lohan and P.H.’s folks pay you and the E! team to have them talked about almost every day?
Dear Smells Green:
Not nearly enough, I assure you.
Do you like Lindsay Lohan or not?
São Paulo, Brazil
Dear Brazen Brazilian:
Depends on how much is in my checking account.
Lisa O'Connor/ZUMA Press
I think I know who Renaldo Rim-Me might be: Jamie Foxx?
Dear Nice Try:
Actually, you’re sorta on the right path. One of Jamie’s recent forays is precisely how Renaldo makes his lusty living.
If Isaiah Washington had been late to the set and T.R. Knight had referred to him as the N word, he would have been fired on the spot, don't you think?
Dear Double Standard:
Yes, I think.
I read your column every morning. I must say I’m a little pissed ‘cause you hardly ever speak about African-American stars, and as soon as you do, you diss them or have something negative to say. Oprah is a positive role model and deserves much more respect. Instead, you glorify someone like Lohan, Paris and whoever else I’m so sick of hearing about.
Dear Short Memory:
Did we not just say we’d love to see Oprah as president? I don’t know how much more venerated you can get than our nom for the highest office in the country. Take a chill pill, babe.
I've always had a sneaking suspicion that Ryan Phillippe might be gay. What are your thoughts on that?
Dear Swiss Miss:
Not what I hear (and then some).
Albert L. Ortega/WireImage.com
Whip-Me Mendelson has to be Tobey Maguire. You rock!
Dear Spidey Sense:
Thanks, but it ain’t the diminutive superhero. Similar genre, though, 9-to-5-wise, just on a much smaller scale.
Did you even read Reichen's book? The passage you quoted about "going at each other like dogs that hadn't been fed in weeks" was about Reichen and an Air Force pilot, not Lance!
Dear Bitchy Bookworm:
You are correct. Mea culpa, my dear.
You called Jaime Pressly's pregnancy weeks ago, and now she's made it official. You are the only gossip maven I trust.
Dear Preggers Peach:
Doll, I adore you for your confidence, but alas, I must warn you of something in the wicked town of Tinsel: Trust no one, moi included.
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