Wow, last night on Dirt, Lucy Spiller slept with a stranger who was reading Proust. Frankly, I only allow Tolstoy readers near me--Leo's pacier. And who can read Proust while standing outside a Hollywood party? Are all paparazzi schitzophrenics? Is everyone fat named Harvey?
I wanted--okay so maybe I didn't want--to like this show, but it was obvious from the trailer that I wouldn't see anything I didn't already know: gossip people will go to great lengths to get a story, stars are always having sex, there is no loyalty in Hollywood, but maybe, just maybe there's a kernel of goodness in the jerkiest jerks in the biz, as evidenced when Lucy comforts her crazy but brill photog after his cat dies.
Bottom line: I can't give up the luscious kick-assedness of Mariska Hargitay on Law & Order: SVU for this show. Though Courtney is lookin' hot and is so the poster child of a hard-working woman who don't need no mans. Unless he looks like Jim Morrison and reads books. That's so retro.
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