Wednesday, April 23, 2014

True Tori, Peaches, Scandal, Sherlock & Colbert -- My New Law Firm

Thanks to a colleague, whose television taste runs seedier than mine, I remembered to watch True Tori, where Tori Spelling gets real about her marriage to Dean McDermott, what actually happened (he totally cheated), and how awesome their woes are for television. Seriously, they are geniuses for making a buck off their dirty laundry.

If TG suddenly decides he's meant to live life as werewolf, I will grab a camera and record the horror: the hair regrowing even after the laser removal, the howling at the moon, his vicious insults (he called me a pinhead last week) and how he keeps wanting to watch Bones, when Louie is my preference. I'll throw his ass in rehab because mama's gotta watch her stories. I always learn from Tori.

Yesterday's News:

Colbert taking over as Letterman. Nice guys really do finish first! I will watch this new fleet of late night shows. Except Craig. Don't hate me but as Karen says on Will & Grace, "he don't make me laugh."

The death of Peaches Geldof. I remember when she was born, for criminey's sakes. After comparing and contrasting pictures, I could make several conclusions. This would be unprofessional given my medical expertise. I'll wait for toxicology reports. The family's devastation must be unimaginable. As a star-aholic, I watch these people grow up and then disappear. It's sad for me. (Am I crazy?)

Scandal: I don't remember the finale. Someone died. This season, though, for me was all about how Tony Goldwyn looked really stoned. Or maybe this prez was a big stoner or Tones thought it looked more romantic to have his eyes half-mast all the time. What if it's a physical condition he can't help? I will pay for this.

Four years after its premiere, TG and I have begun to watch Sherlock, which is wildly fun. We are loving the super-smart sociopaths these days. BC reminds me of what Kenneth Branagh was 20 years ago--this enthusiastic, extra-terrestrial seeming yet intoxicating, theatrically trained Brit. This is probably why reincarnation exists.

As for me, personally, I'm pleased that I finally found a deep conditioner for my hair. For the first time in thirty years, it's silky soft.

Wednesday, April 02, 2014

Dish as Therapy

I've decided to return to my roots. The truth is, I've been depressed. The blues are normal--like the kind you get when your dream comes true and you're the focus of attention. Five minutes later, there's silence and life goes on. It's ego-bruising so I'm stumbling around, trying to remember who I am and what I like to do.  Since I'm no longer 19, I've decided against chain-smoking or drinking. Call me officially old, but my cure of choice is: Obsessing with the Stars.

First off: the GMA bloodbath. Dish is delirious not to have Josh Elliott's smug mug rain on her Robin Roberts love parade. Though according to not-so-valid sources, conflict will ensue as Amy Robach (my new personal hero--giving cancer the middle finger and marrying Melrose Place's Andrew Shue) and Lara Spencer aren't in love. Now, Michael Strahan has signed on as clean-up, so those cute dog rescue stories will be covered. Is Today laughing its ass off? I would if I thought this movement was disastrous. I see it as weed-wacking. Funny how the whole Ann Curry mess is so yesterday.

Second: We're offering to inherit Gloria Vanderbilt's 200M fortune since Anderson doesn't need it. We don't need it either, but we want it.

Third: Dish went to see Rocky on Broadway, starring the great Andy Karl, Margo Seibert, and Terrence Archie. The actors' stellar performances, the staging and the story are worth seeing over and over again (music/lyrics mostly terrible, but you don't wind up caring so much). Dish was misty-eyed throughout the show. After the fabulous training montages, I went straight to the gym, wearing a hoodie (and hurt my back). Rocky is my new Jersey Boys (Just kidding, TG. I'll only see Rocky one more time, maybe three). 

Fourth: I've been on Alec-Baldwin-watch and so far, he hasn't left New York. In fact, his wife is featured in today's Post, doing sexy yoga poses and insisting that she'll never leave the city.  I was so waiting for a week without a Baldwin. They are liars!

Friday, March 28, 2014

Much Ado about Hating Gwyneth Paltrow

Once upon a time, a beautiful, talented non-trashy blonde played the supportive wife of Brad Pitt in Se7en. Her part was subdued yet meaningful, and we embraced the cuteness that she was doing it with Brad in real life. She became this new actress to watch, with her wholesome look and intelligent-seeming demeanor. After this, she dressed as a man, which was so unique and talent-revealing (I did this when I was four, but do I get an Oscar). Though she did some good work, she lost me with her Oscar hair the year she won, and that shitty pink dress--but I'm not superficial. I just wanted Cate Blanchett to win for Elizabeth. Life went on for this Dish, and because I don't live for stars (who are we kidding), I understood that Gwyneth might exist in a different world from mine. Her suffering and my suffering were still the same (because we're all connected).

Over time, post Brad, Ben, Luke, now Chris, she's been reduced to this subject of viral mockery when we all used to see her as A-list. Now she's secretive, snooty, NOT the most beautiful woman in the world, too skinny, cheating, threatening Vanity Fair and the list goes on (Ahnold's villainy didn't last this long). While, yes, I do find her pretentious (Moses, Apple, the cupping, the nutrition advice, really bad acting choices), the trashing makes me way sicker.

Audience, she's not the devil, just potentially out of touch. She's not throwing children into oncoming traffic, having the manny's baby or calling anyone "sugar tits." She didn't cause the disappearance of flight MH370. Of course, the girl doesn't help herself by referring to her separation as "conscious uncoupling," a more educated way of saying, "we're just not into each other"--for those with an under 50 IQ. Of course, she sounds severely DOA when she demeans women with office jobs or says she's leaving acting to focus on her kids (what acting has she been doing).

My beef with Gwyneth isn't her personality or how much I resent her beauty. I just badly want her to do theater...or a role to show everyone that you don't mess with a smart blond who has everything. Let's stop wasting energy whining about people who are basically okay.

Oh wait, I'm whining.

Saturday, March 01, 2014

I Can't Keep Quiet

This post is brought to you by extreme boredom. My To Do list is empty, so I must address celebrity issues and return to my first love: the stars.

Alec Baldwin publicly stated that he's leaving public life. I thought seriously about buying New York Magazine, but didn't want to spend the 6$. Instead, I'm using that 6$ to start a pool that Alec won't leave NYC or stop his blabbing and raging. Or I'll donate the $ to his first class in the DishMethod to an improved lifestyle: yogurt almond and meditation.

I confess, I will always love Alec as an actor and hope he enjoys LA, where I'm sure he'll find peace.

The instant Robin Thicke dry thrusted into Miley on the VMAs, I thought his marriage might be in trouble. The news of his split with Paula Patton didn't surprise me. Allegedly, Robin wants his wife back. He should seek TG's advice, which would be: never publicly ogle another babe. The only exception is Sofia Vergara and, here, I do the slow clap and ogle her, too.

Rest in Peace, Harold Ramis, sweet ghostbuster.

Friday, January 31, 2014

Sleepless in Nashville

TG and I watched murder porn last night. I fell asleep on the couch before the verdict, but then was suddenly awake at 1am and stayed up past 3. This sucks because I had to start my work day at 8ish. Finally, an hour ago, I turned to this household's mutual girlcrush, Connie Britton, and Nashville. She's never been more beautiful and, thanks to IMDB and math, she's older than Dish. TG lost interest quickly and went back to his latest craze.

To explain further, we were deeply affected by the Grammy's. TG is obsessing over Lorde and "Thicke." I can't stop singing "Get Lucky" by Daft Punk. As you can see, not only have I converted TG to my celebraholic ways, but I can't seem to find more virtuous pasttimes.

Thursday, January 30, 2014

Dishreaders, My Apologies...

I've been away, disengaged from celebrities, maybe a little detached since spending so much time meditating. But those strong Dish Views exist. They are bursting through the ice for one night. I have to get this off my chest:

The Sound of Music--Lay off Goldielocks. She was just fine as a singer doing a live performance. As she says, haters need Jesus. It's like the critics had their columns written before the show. No, she's not a great actress, but Dish was sobbing through most of the damn thing. And I hate this musical...My heart loves it.

Anchorman 2--About 20 minutes too long.

The Holidays--are overrated, but Dish survived them. Apologies to Dishfamily for enduring my outbursts.

August Osage County--Am reluctant to see it. Don't want to see Julia get upstaged by anyone, even Meryl. Julia belongs in a venue by herself, under glass, to be worshiped.

Dean McDermott--I voted for him to win Rachael and Guy's Celebrity Cookoff. I believed in him. He seemed so earnest and in love with Tori. With four kids, they must at least like to do certain things in quick succession. Oh Donna.

Cameron Diaz--is living next door to me, I think.

Watching American Idol and thinking Harry is the new Simon (only H. seems a little psycho, as in I'm scared of him), Keith needs to brush his hair and J.Lo is too pretty to be believed. They keep writing things down during judging, but are they fake writing? What do they have to write down?

My schadenfreude over Bieber will land me in hell.

Thursday, December 12, 2013

Lost in Scandal...

It's a time of hibernation for me. Not only do I genuinely hate the holidays but I am gathering energy. I'm learning my lines, staring into space, finding contentment in simple things. Like...

I'm obsessed with Scandal. The acting is some of the worst I've ever seen, but I can't stop watching. TG talks to me. I don't quite hear because Olivia Pope is in deep sh*t and she's f*cking the President of the United States every chance he gets. Who knew the a-hole from Ghost could have such a hunky middle-aged resurrection? Then there's Olivia Pope's wardrobe. I hate that she can be upright with that tiny body but then I look at her face and thank the heavens that there is such beauty in the world. Though I don't like Olivia as a character. She doesn't have any fun. It's all I can think about right now. Olivia. Cyrus. That snotrag Mellie (like Nellie from Little House) who's also Hotch's love interest on Criminal Minds. The grumpy-faced sociopath cracks me up. And Josh Malina, who is in anything political or written by Aaron Sorkin, finally, finally gets to bang a hot chick instead of play the nerd (in addition to playing the nerd).

In real celebrity life, I'm trying to come to terms with the rumor of Julia Roberts being pregnant again. She's betrayed me so many times. Now this. Can't she just be fat? For the love of those of us above 40, please let it just be a thickening middle (for me it's a fat ass). I'm eating a See's caramel just for you, Jules.

Tuesday, December 03, 2013

Rest in Peace, Paul Walker, While Dish Sobs

It's been a rough few days. Not rough enough for me to go to the Paul Walker crash site. I've been too busy and we know it takes a village to get me on a plane. But I'm in mourning over PW's senseless demise. For a very stupid reason. I'll confess it here. Blonds don't do it for me, except for two.

1. Jason Lewis (without the long hair, he's pushing it)
2. Daniel Craig

The rest--hideous. Brad Pitt--yick. Alex Skarsbar--gag. Now only two. Blond women, gorgeous. Not to be superficial or anything.

Seriously, though, PW's death saddens me. That poor daughter of his will miss him terribly. What makes it worse is the minute to minute updates. Blah...