Two Princes...

Duran Duran is in Central Park Tonight! It's the only thing Dish is looking forward to in life. After this, there's nothing so Le Bon better not cancel due to predicted t-storms. Who cares if a little lightning hits the keyboard and singes Nick's nostril hair? I get electrified just watching them rock out on stage. In any case, I'm there with my slicker and roast beef sandwich.

The only problem is: General Seating sucks. Last time I did that--other than on SouthWest Airlines--was in Paris, at Duran Duran's Big Thing concert at Bercy. Five hours early and 20 y.o. old, I was plowing down 12-y.o. third-tier Duranie bitches to get my seat next to an amp, which gave me permanent damage in my left ear. What I do for love. But now, 20 years later, I haven't got time for the pain so will arrive an hour early for a nosebleed seat. I can see sh*t anyway. I just pray for no cancellation.

The Oscar Curse

You know what's funny? Turning on the TV to see Holly Hunter in Little Black Book--about a paranoid GF checking on her BF only to find eventually that he's a DH. Holly plays the wisecracking mentor who eggs Brittany Murphy along. I'm like, Holly, what were you thinking? Did you need the money to support your twins? It's almost like she's mocking us by being in the movie. That's it!

So, I console myself by watching Jennifer Love Hewitt in The Truth About Love, about a cheating spouse and how the best friend, a rugged yet filmy Dougray Scott, is really Mr. Right (he usually is). I secretly love J-Love. She has such a nice smile. And she just seems nice. When those bikini pictures showed up last year, I loved her even more because she and I have the same ass--only mine is even bigger. In her honor, I'm totally wearing a bikini and jiggling next time I go beaching.

Don't Rent the Following:

Some of us love Matthew Perry despite his lack of chin. If you want to keep that love alive, don't rent Numb. It's so stinky, you'll beg for those 94 minutes back. Poor privileged Hollywood writer--who doesn't ever write but his severely-eyebrow-tweezed partner Kevin Pollock does--has Dis-something Disorder where he doesn't feel. I wonder, is some girl's gonna try to enliven him and he won't appreciate her till she's gone? This special, lucky girl is quirky--likes to say f&ck all the time. But even though she swears a lot and is a horrible trumpet-player, she draws the line at his shoplifting pens. My favorite is the last-minute rush to the airport to tell her he does love her--let's overlook his shtupping Mary Steenburgen repeatedly, even though he didn't feel it. She's checking in and he blurts out his feelings. It's just so real. Every romantic moment I've ever had involved the dude jumping in a cab and rushing to deflect my spontaneous flight to Yemen (at 100 Yemen Road, in Yemen). My guess is this went straight to video. Bring back Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip!

Hey, Brown Eyes

I hear you're single again. Me too. You don't want to get married. Me either. So, what say we hang? I mean, you're not really my type, but your sense of humor would help me forget that. You could introduce me to Julia Roberts and she and I could start a knitting club--and you could watch. You're getting long in the tooth--though your new veneers are fab--so I reserve the right to choose a younger model somewhere down the road. Plus, if you and me are together, I could encourage you to stay away from those hoity toity Coen brothers and do One Fine Day II. And how about that Facts of Life spin-off? I'm dying to give you another mullet, Georgey Porgey.

A Place Where Nobody Dared to Go...

Go see Xanadu on Broadway if you were/are the following:

Obsessed with Olivia Newton John to the point where you even saw Twist of Fate, along with Xanadu (when it first came out and more than once).

Want desperately to relive the 80s.

Obsessed with Gene Kelly so much that you'll see him underused and feel your chest swell when he and Olivia dance together. It's like looking at the sun. Tony Roberts is not Gene, but he's pretty fun anyway.

Obsessed with ELO as much as it embarrasses you to admit it.

Miserable and need some confection.

Eager to see someone so much better than Michael Beck in the film version. Cheyenne Jackson is tall, tan, talented hotness as Sonny Malone.

Open to the idea of seeing someone attempt to recapture Olivia. Kerry Butler is freakishly amazing!

Tickled by super-flamboyant drag-queen gayness, as Dish is, especially when Andre Ward comes out on stage as one of the muses. He stole many moments and one of his lines made me snarf and pee.

Loved Jackie Hoffman in Kissing Jessica Stein and want to see her as the gawky muse.

Don't have the attention span for Shakespeare and need a short play with no intermission so your ass doesn't fall asleep.

Tom Cruise Once Again in My Dreams

Somewhere between 4:30-6:30 a.m., my R.E.M. state went as follows:

After hours of trying to find the right work-out spandex, going up and down escalators, I come back from the gym. A limo pulls up beside me and the back door opens. It's Tom, Katie, and Suri. They ask me if I need a ride home (three blocks). I say no, but ask if I can say hi to Suri. She's too adorable and I want to stay in the limo. Because the Cruises are probably way busy, I leave them to their famousness. Katie gives me a huge hug and I'm on my way.

Why won't they leave me alone?

Anemic Star Sighting

May 27, 71st and West End, 6:20 p.m. It's suddenly raining like crazy. I'm carrying a monster backpack and opening up my crappy umbrella. I look up to see Ross's former girlfriend, "Elizabeth" on Friends--the one who threw a water balloon on his head. It takes me a whole half block to place her. Lesson: Never date Ross from Friends because you'll want to smack him after five seconds. Alexandra Holden peeks out at me from under her umbrella. Very pretty and one of those pale blondes. Then again, it totally could have been someone else.

Fifteen minutes later, friend of Dish sees Blythe Danner going into the Times Square subway, talking on her phone, calling someone "Honey." Blythe is wearing a floppy hat (honestly).

Hey, Cutiepants

Let's face it, reality shows are where leathery has-beens go to make a desperate attempt to regain stardom. Hello, Bret Michaels, Peter Brady, Tori Spelling, Paula Abdul, Anna Nicole. The list goes on forever. If I were a has-been, I'd go to Lifetime. There, you'll find a stable of fun-to-watch actors who have the misfortune of being without tv show or film, but who are still delicious.

Imagine my joy when, fresh from Jag, David James Elliott appears in Lovesick: Secrets of a Sex Addict, about a bored wife who needs to fill her empty life with reckless shagging. Just my speed. The wife is lured by David's magic penis into a torrid affair, and she's goes bananas. Ultimately, we learn that love-starved whores really need hugs, not plugs...and usually from their affection-withholding fathers. It was difficult to believe that David was the icky one, but he has that Mark Harmon quality--can be Prince Charming or a serial killer. Keep it up, DJE!

Tonight Dish sees Xanadu on Broadway. Cannot wait!

Sex and the Hot Blonde

When it comes to over-40 hotness, no one does it better than Gail O’Grady. She’s been 40 since she’s 30 and I love her. In Sex and the Single Mom, she boinks a married Grant Show and pops out his bastard son. In More Sex and the Single Mom, Grant Shows up again to cause her agita. While she sports a fabulous short haircut and super-hot blondness, she casts aside her nice fiance and slithers into the sheets with the bad boy again! I love her especially in Another Woman’s Husband where she meets Lisa “Asslips” Rinna and they become total girlfriends. Lisa uses her lips as flotation devices as Gail teaches her to swim. But unbeknownst to Gail, Lisa presses her asslips against Gail’s husband’s and the cat-fur flies! The best for a rainy Sunday. Hmm.

In other news, thank goodness for Duran Duran reflexing back into our big nasty city this weekend. My last DD foray was tainted by the presence of ex-BF-16 whose future lameness was then unknown. I’ll be purified by Nature and Simon, Nick, Roger, and John’s awesomeness. Dish keeps replaying “The Valley,” which is easily the favorite song, followed a close second by “Tempted,” “She’s Too Much,” and “Falling Down.”

Two Degrees of Separation from Gale Harold

In my idle hours, I calculated how--thanks to Sin City and its star studded cast--I am only two degrees from Gale Harold. Here's how:

This strange universe allows two aliens such as me and Frank Miller to be acquainted (I'm ashamed to admit I begged him to set me up with OMP Bruce Willis, but it was a weak moment. I should have said Benicio Del Toro instead). In Sin City, he co-directed Carla Gugino, who acted with GH in Suddenly, Last Summer.

If you want the scenic route: My brother went to Vassar with Jon Tenney and they acted together in a dreadfully boring play where Jon played God and Patrick played the devil (true to life?). After a long nap, I'm sure I met Jon, but had an obsession with Nick Rhodes that blinded me from noticing real life images. Jon married Teri Hatcher, who then kissed GH on Desperate Housewives.

I wish I could say I'd spent Monday in a more interesting way. Went through my allotted Netflix so as far as entertainment goes, I'm f*cked.

What Women So Don't Want

In What Women Want, Mel Gibson lets out this juicy burp on command, just as he's immersed in women's products. It's pretty disgusting. In fact, he's kind of OMP and greasy throughout. I wonder what Helen Hunt felt about doing this movie as part of her Oscar curse? Did Mel taste like sour Crisco?

A nice thing--Valerie Perrine (Miss Tessmachhhheeeerrr!) and Delta Burke are fabulous as his secretaries. They make an amusing pair and should go on the road.

I know, what am I doing watching this lame movie?

What's Up, Doc?

I've resisted Big Love for numerous reasons. Bill Paxton is like Ambien. Chloe Sevigny's Bugs Bunny face and association with Vincent Gallo creep me out. But then I saw an in-depth Dr. Phil expose on polygamy and I thought, I'm so into this. I didn't waste another minute.

Poor Bill, though. He has to have sex with three attractive women (Can you say Yeast Infection five times fast?). No wonder his Erectile Dysfunction acts up. I get tired thinking about it. On the girls' side, so much work goes into pleasing one boring man, raising seven bitch-ass kids, French-braiding hair, and ironing those hideous long Little House on the Prairie skirts. Then there's the dinner table, with ten people making conversation. Just for fun, throw in a little cancer, arsenic poisoning, and extortion. Yummers!

And yet, I think I might like three boring men to satisfy me--one who doesn't speak, one who cooks and cleans, and another to bring me celeb mags and snax. One complex, interesting soul mate is only fun until the moment when he suddenly snaps--and he always does. Yes, polygamy could be excellent.

So, if you have insomnia, definitely rent this.

Watch, Rewind, Repeat

Dish is in that mode where a certain movie is being watched repeatedly. I won’t divulge which movie—it’s too embarrassing. My mother did this with the Jennifer Ehle version of Pride and Prejudice and insisted it wasn’t to ogle Colin Firth. So, yeah, I keep watching this movie just to see my new crush—and not for the reason all you bitches think (well, you would think if you knew which movie). Can’t say who it is, because he’s cliché. And while I harbor this diet-crush (not full-on), he looks malodorous and could be a lush. In fact, I think I’ve seen him stumbling drunk in a TMZ video, but maybe he was celebrating or something.

But I digress. What I really meant to say before this testosterone-poisoning was that I love Kathy Bates. She brightens every screen, even if the movie is garbage. She’s beautiful, talented, and, when she’s acting, you can’t look anywhere else. Definitely in the handful of talents that makes me want to create and be alive.

Legendary Flatulence

I Am Legend was not bad. Parts of it resembled Road Warrior, with the speeding car, the dog--who you know is going to bite it. Will Smith was fine. He's a legend because he discovers the cure--I so didn't see that coming. I sort of liked Smith better in Hitch, though the fat guy was missing from this one. Question: Why are all primal rabid night seekers so sculpted? Not a single bloated couch potato in the bunch. Now I know how to have a hot bod--get a virus that turns me into a raging cannibal. I'm almost there.

And the evening ended with my mother trying to feed me and our watching videos of celebrities farting on Youtube. http://youtube.com/watch?v=_9c3YhDLpmU

Now that's legendary.

Cosmic Goddesses

My favorite couple this week:

I never thought I'd ever see such powerhouses sharing the same frame. Madonna and Sharon Stone should totally do a movie together and scratch each other's eyes out. They're like twins.

In other news, I can't report on hearsay anymore. Rumors of a Keanu-Winona alliance are erroneous. We are powerless. We can't fabricate, orchestrate or destroy celebrity romances. If only...

Tom would have stayed with Mimi (and Dish could brag about knowing Mimi's ex-husband and it would mean something).

Wearing heels, Nicole would have still broken into Hollywood, with some pretty young thing on her arm instead of walking three steps behind her first husband.

Katie would have still dumped Chris Klein and made funky indie movies. We would have seen her raunchy scene in Thank You for Not Smoking--though you can still see her topless in The Gift.

Julia would have never married Lyle because we just don't get that part of her life. Or the Kiefer years.

Jane Fonda would have kicked Ted Turner's ass to the curb so much sooner and returned to making movies.

Anne and Ellen would not have annoyed us for three years. We like her so much more now with Portia Di (who was the least irritating person on Ally McBeal)

Britney would have resisted K-Fed, helping us all strive for more than mediocrity.

But through all of this, Kevin Kline and Phoebe Cates would stay together.

Couple Gossip

Supposebly, Keanu and Winona Ryder are making sweet love on the set of their new movie. How could he go out with that little boy?

Dish can't even speak...

Maybe a little--I mean, why didn't they get this overwith during Bram Stoker's Dracula? Though, come to think of it, I wouldn't have hooked up with Keanu then either. That British accent of his was hideous!

I'm totally going to start shoplifting now. Oh, it doesn't matter. They all wind up with Angelina in the long run.

Eating Roast Beef and Watching Fat Actress

In honor of Kirstie Alley's lack of thinness, I prepared a roast beef sandwich with extra mayo, (and a Godiva bar) and settled down to watch Fat Actress. I loved me some Cheers back when I was 5 and spending serious time in bars, but all this girl does is shriek, whine about fatness and employee Scientologists. Dish will watch tons of BAD, BAD stuff, but even I can't get the second disk. My intelligence has been insulted, even more than with Steven Seagal's Today You Die. It made me wonder (in Sex and the City style): Does Kirstie Alley think we obsess about her fat? I kinda don't care. Just make the shrieking stop!

One amazing point from the show, guys can be heifers and celebrated in TV/films. It's a little sickening. But I will drown this thought in chocolate and lard.

Is Nicole Really Pregnant?

Forgive the evilness of Dish's latest conspiracy theory. It's paranoia derived from Bree's fake pregnancy on Desperate Housewives. Since Nicole announced her pregnancy and the bump photos appeared, something seems off--along with Nicole's new collagen asslips. If we go by reports of how far along she is, shouldn't she be showing more? She could be one of those annoying females that stays thin and pops right at the end. I won't believe any pregnancy until I see it shooting out the vadge, or more likely, coming from a scheduled C-section.

I used to love Nicole until I noticed in Birth that she'd had massive amounts of work done. Plus, Margot at the Wedding Left a Bad Taste in My Mouth. I'm not sure why something so superficial could taint my love, but perhaps, it'll return (with a decent movie and less plastic surgery!).

It's Official: Teri Hatcher Has Ruined My Life

For the following reasons:

1. She married Jon Tenney, Dish's supreme crush since Equal Justice.

2. She got to be a part of the man-sandwich deliciousness that is Tango & Cash.

3. That squeaky bubble gum voice is like the Pied Piper.

4. She has made an art out of stumbling, which has always been Dish's forte. No one sends glassware crashing to the floor better than I do.

5. Lois & Clark--well, actually scratch that. Dean Cain does nothing for Dish.

6. She gets to revive her career in Desperate Housewives. There is no one more desperate or domestic than Dish.

7. She's a brunette, which is so much more sought after than red hair (you can disagree but you'd be wrong).

8. She was on the Ellen DeGeneres show and Dish has never had the pleasure.

9. She's probably met Duran Duran though no evidence as yet.

10. Her name is often in the New York Times Crossword puzzle, reminding me of her treachery.

And the worst of all offenses:

Without even the slightest effort, she got to make out with Gale Harold.

(Disclaimer: This is not life-ending since Dish prefers Gale over that snoresville plumber/ carpenter she married on the show)

Since My Hairguru Brought It Up

Dish is reluctant to deal with W. issues, but John The Hair God brought it up:

Jenna's hair was UNspectacular for her wedding. I wear my hair like that all the time (when it's blond and semi-manageable) and you'd think W's daughter could fork over the cash to fly John in to AT LEAST puff up her hair like that of a good ol' Texas girl. Dish likes the chunky white dress since texture can be lovely. The hair kills it. If I ever get married (to Gale Harold who's on DH tonight!), hair is my first consideration--because John would murder me in my sleep if I ignored this issue--and then I'll slather on some thick purple Mary Kay on my eyelids.

Of the Bushes, Dish kind of likes Jenna because of her once-reckless partying ways, the fact that she wrote a book about a mother with AIDS (or did someone else write it) and she was a little mysterious about possibly liking a Democrat running for office. She's got some sass up her ass. Well, now she's married so that might deflate her balloon.

Speaking of balloons, I might need one inserted in my arteries to unclog them. Dish gorged herself at aunt and uncle's (the ones who spawned the fabulous rocker cousin who is playing for Bob Schneider again on Monday!): chocolate pie, honey dijon chips, danishes, pancakes, NY strip steak, guacamole with tortilla chips, baked potatoes, more chips, asparagus (which they told me would make my pee stink and it did) and whiskey. Bless 'em.

Gale Harold Countdown

I wondered what important event was happening this weekend aside from drinking my aunt and uncle's scotch up in Connecticut. And then my calendar zinged me: Gale Harold on Desperate Housewives finale this Sunday night!

Now he might be an interesting choice for Aniston and it would make him even famouser.

Aniston Lowering Herself

Since I can identify with her on so many levels--looking great in a bikini, being dried up with one foot in the grave--I feel Jennifer Aniston is scraping the bottom of the barrel by dating John Mayer. I saw him in the Swiss Army store in Soho a few years back and I could have totally beaten him up. He may have the wit the call himself a "douchebag" and speak Japanese to papparazzi, but she can do better. She was married to today's latest advertisement for overpopulation. Every girl knows you have to at least go a step higher than your previous catch. Or date someone who's super smart and interesting (read: to make up for the hideousness). I say she needs to hold out for a hero...and not Jack Nicholson.

In similar news, I have a crush. I am noticing XYs again. My new crush is at my gym, which implies all sorts of things. He's everywhere, hanging balloons, greeting people, making calls, opening the doors when it gets stifling. One day as I fiddled with my audio-device, he came over to help. So now I love him.

Indie Manhattan Malaise

It seems that every indie movie set in Manhattan is really depressing. Or maybe because Heather Graham seems to star in all of them. I loved her in Boogie Nights, but Adrift in Manhattan is exactly what its title suggests. I felt bad for everyone and I already feel bad. There are interesting character studies but I wanted to give each a hit of Zoloft--not that I have any for myself.

And if I can complain some more, I'm irritated by the random Brit/Scot/Irish person on soaps. They are usually just so full of themselves with their sexy accents. Like Aidan and Seth (I think that's his name, he's kinda beefy and has the shaggy hair going) on All My Children, Duke and Anna Lavery and Jax (wtf kind of name is that?) on GH. I hate them and the soap's attempts to infuse Hugh Grant in these small town yet affluent bumblebutt communities. Oh god, did I just say this? I should be killed. Maybe it would even things up if they had me on where I could do my best Rochester, New York accent. Now that's sexy.

Keeping Secrets

I could divulge some secrets--which athletic star has herpes (okay, which one doesn't?), which two mega "good guy" stars regularly cheat on their longtime spouses, which reality star is hooked on crack and is borderline retarded, which super gender specific pop star is actually gay (who isn't?)--but I won't. I can keep some important secrets, especially my own.

A friend to Dish saw Lou Reed on 5/10 down in Tribeca. Oh how I wish. Speaking of Lou Reed in that they did a cover of "Perfect Day,"Duran Duran will play in Central Park on 5/31. I knew they'd come to see me again. And just in time for me to cross this month's finish line.

Star Sighting

5:54 p.m. 21st and 7th: Dish trudged toward an acupuncture appointment and there was Jonathan Cake pushing a baby stroller...in Chelsea. Yes, he's as handsome in person. Did I hear him speak? No. What has he been in? Countless shows, though not starring...unless you saw him in "Diamond Girl" where he plays a perfect delicious a-hole who takes the doelike heroine to get a new wardrobe, beds her, succumbs to his tender wender feelings, then casts her aside before someone informs him that he loves her madly deep down. Mr. Cake was brilliant as an Alpha hero and we hope he gets more of these kinds of roles. Though, he's good in everything.

And now, I'm just thankful that after my first acupuncture experience, I'm not suddenly speaking fluent Spanish.

Mother's Day Star Sighting

12:30 pm. 18th Street, b/w 7th and 8th: Dish walked a whole avenue home from celebrating motherhood. In a green t-shirt and drinking a soda, Jack McBrayer stood outside an apartment building. We made eye contact and I could have caressed his baby smooth, sun-burnished skin. He reminds me a little of my childhood nemesis, so I feel both affection and violence toward him. Mostly, I want to touch his silky, flaxen hair. It's just so floppy, like tissue paper.

Immediately after, I watched Sweeney Todd and was underwhelmed, though not too seriously. Great performances, visually stunning, but the second half sank like a wet cat fart. Maybe it was because I started ironing, therefore couldn't focus. I'll say now, I don't care how ancient Alan Rickman is, he's zexy.

Embarrassing Purchases

I'm not sure why I did it, but my hand pulled out Music and Lyrics from that damn Duane Reade $9.99 movie rack. So, my Saturday night is planned out, with a quickstop at my nearest gay bar to be around my beautiful neighborhood boys, like on Queer As Folk only a little uglier.

No star sightings in a while, though I called a celebrity today and left a message on his voice mail. And my cousin Paul, a celebrity to me, called to thank me for attending the Bob Schneider concert. We agreed Schneider looks like his younger brother Lee, which must incite an urge in Paul to deliver a beating.

For Mother's Day, might I suggest a renting of Serial Mom, starring the husky-voiced Kathleen Turner? She drops some excellent f and p-bombs.

Gone Baby Gone

1. The scent of Satan

2. The smell emanating from a jar of Gulden's

3. My cat's litter box

4. The quality of my master's thesis

You can guess the unifying factor. Just like the consistency of Dish's brain matter while re-entering the online dating world. Too fast, to be sure. As I watched Gone Baby Gone this evening, I saw one of my past would-be online suitors gallivanting across the screen--with lines! I yelped. And then wished I'd pursued that avenue just so that I could have visited him on the set, so that I could be near Casey Affleck. Not that I even notice Casey Affleck ever. But he was good in this, and I must give his brother props. It wasn't a stinky movie, though as expected, Morgan Freeman gave an annoying speech about life and how to survive. I hate that b-tard ever since he left "The Electric Company." My childhood and adolescence cut short by Driving Miss Lazy. And yet, I'll be the first to rent The Bucket List.

Speechless with Love

I can't express the joy of seeing my Paulie play with Bob Schneider, who is now on my favorite list. Paul Mercurio was stylish, smooth, connected to the crowd but not too much. Unfortunately, I got panty-blocked by some chicks and couldn't throw my thong. But a nice boy from Oklahoma chatted me up and asked me about my family and Paul. My lovely uncle, Paul's dad, was there and we agreed Bob used the eff word a lot and was it necessary? After two weeks of nauseating misery, I felt sheer pleasure listening to music, thanks to my family. Look for Paul Mercurio rocking halls and hearts in the future. Not only he is super talented, but he is super nice.

The Knitting Factory Tonight!

I have my black thong ready to hurl onto the stage...at my cousin. Though might rethink with my uncle standing next to me. Musician Bob Schneider is playing tonight at 8pm, but we are there for Paul Mercurio, guitarist and godlike relation. I guess I should bring my knitting, too, since it's a factory.

Nothing remarkable in the celebrity world--someone made a bad choice in marriage, albums dropped, stars gave to charity or endorsed Obama, and Madonna is still here--which is a good indication I should be, too.

Could Be Better

Maybe stars are dumb to begin with. Most of them haven't gone to college. They have spiritual transformations in public and "find themselves" in diabolical or facile ways. Can they say anything original? George Clooney can pulls funny lines from his butt, so he's off The List. But then came nice, talented Jamie Lee Curtis, who is great in A Fish Called Wanda and True Lies. She was on television to promote her book and I was shocked at my negative reaction over her tough-woman self-righteous crap about loving yourself, how words are important, and plastic surgery is bad. For once, I would love to see a celebrity sit on Oprah's chair and just say, "I don't know what I'm doing and I'm a moron. Everything I do seems pointless, my face is falling and as I get older, my bowel movements have become a daily curiosity, reminding me of my grandparents." Ashton Kitchen was on Regis and Kelly and kept saying, "You know" to the point where I felt shame.

As if I could do better.

Ps. I Love You at 5:30 a.m. or Stars with Freaky Teeth

Humbling but true. Dish did not close the eyes last night or this morning so I popped in Ps. I Love You. Honest to blog (a line in Juno that no teenager says--just call me Dish Placebo), it wasn't the worst, though Dish blubbered all the way through it for obvious reasons. Hillary was believeable as a hot young widow as she journeys through her grief. A girly sob-fest but lovely. Usually, I don't feel Hillary's sexiness, but here, she and Gerard have sizzling chemistry. Well, Gerard would have hot chemistry with the shriveled up uneaten red pepper in my fridge. If you're in the mood to salivate over Gerard Butler and Howard Dean Morgan (or whatever) and see Hillary Skank in a sexy role, put in on your queue.

The only thing that scares me about Hillary and Julia Stiles is they both have scary teeth. See below.

Those canines could slash your carotid in the middle of the night. When they smile, I want to hide. Can't you see them ripping flesh with those chompers?

Gossip and Gas

Tonight's treat is Gossip Girl, which is all about pastel raincoats tonight. I'm a little bored since Serena is so goody goody, unlike the books. None of them smokes either and, hullo, Blair is the queen of bulimia and there is no hurl on the show. Well, my cat is no longer bulimic.

Speaking of vomit, Tom Cruise on Oprah made me a little ill. I realized I can't stand either of them. They don't kick puppies, but talk about overblown icons who don't really reinvent themselves. And they'd keep my scotch cold. (Yes, I know Oprah is a superheroine and has done so much for the world. She just makes me gassy).

Back to staring at Matthew Settle. So nice to see a guy who doesn't put himself on the cross every chance he gets. That's my malicious gossip of the day and you know what I mean...

It's All About Julia

I waited for a sign. As I slugged my now bony body on the treadmill, it came to me. Mona Lisa Smile, the movie Julia made right after she married Danny Moder, her hot cameraman true love. It's part of a series of "serious" movies Julia has made. Though a period piece from the 50s, Julia has the same way of speaking, same hair, but I accept it. Who could perfect an accent when in love? So, this afternoon, as I work, I am also watching Runaway Bride, made during a prolific romantic comedy time when she was boinking Benjamin Bratt.

Teacher movies kinda suck. Everyone seems to make one: Denzel, Michelle Pffff, Matthew Perry, Hillary Swank, Tom Berenger, Sidney Poitier, Edward James Olmos, Richard Dreffff. Isn't there one where the teachers don't care? Because if you sit in an authentic teachers lounge, aside from those who do care, some are fast food teachers, some want to shove little ones off a cliff, some are reliving screwed up adolescence, some see it as a tedious step to college teaching, and others need their meds real bad. Though I had some amazing teachers and taught for six years.

Teaching aside: I wish Julia would make another dippy romantic comedy, one where there is no lesson or greater meaning. I cast her with someone cool...like, oh, I can't say who I really want. What about Julia and Keanu? That would be like looking at the sun.

In personal news, my hairperson John called me the C word and insisted that I was having a 40th birthday party this year, even though I cancelled it.

Bob Schneider at the Knitting Factory

So yeah, Dish is going to this gig, hopefully, on May 8th. And we don't really know who Bob Schneider is. But we do know his guitarist on this date is the model of perfection. How? Because he's Dish's cousin. So, we're sending out love and magic guitar strings to him. Can't wait to see him in person.

Dish Dish

For those who are licking pavement on this gloomy Saturday, check out http://youtube.com/watch?v=KrrLafH5BSE, which is the video for Duran Duran's "Falling Down." Love the idea of John Taylor feeding me pills, though the vid's editor did a hatchet job.

My crush of the weekend--aside from my new cancer causing lip gloss--is a trifecta of deliciousness: Anthony Hopkins, James Remar, and Peter Dinklage in Remains of the Day, Duplex (a whopper suck-fest with fries), and Season 4 of Nip/Tuck respectively. It's the perfect triple decker man sandwich. GQ Gorgeousness may not scream out over these choice, but a smooth voice, excellent schmacting and scenery chewing can summon fairmoans just as easily.

Ask and You Shall Receive

Just when I thought the Universe hated me, I learn Gale Harold will be on Desperate Housewives starting on May 18th. Finally, a reason to watch the show.

Thank you, Universe, for this gift during a week where I lost BF to commitmentphobia and potentially my dear cat to intestinal ennui.