ADDish

ExBF17 and I started watching Becket and within five minutes I was dozing. Dish is an insomniac so this is a miracle. Maybe it was the 500 minutes it took for King Peter to walk to his mark (no car explosions to diversify the shot). Maybe I've seen too much homoerotic subtext. I tried to stay awake by imagining Richard Burton boinking Liz Taylor or heckling Peter as he went to grab a dreaded female booby, but ExBF17's shushing stopped me. Twenty minutes elapsed before the ringing phone made its merciful presence known.

The funniest part of the evening--ExBF17 looked at my computer wallpaper, which is GH of course, and said, "Who's this f*ckface?"

Was he just pretending not to recognize Adonis reincarnated?

The Frank Miller/Mickey Rourke Ticket

Star Sighting: Frank Miller in Hell's Kitchen, around 5pm. Dish adores Mr. Sin. He is a gentleman consumed by demons, both scary and delicious. While basking in the sanctity of his genius, I came up with a genius idea of my own:

Frank Miller for President
Mickey Rourke for Vice-President
Dish as Secretary of Defense AND Treasury (I'm not into defense or treasury but I could make it fun and, for once, I'd be able to fly First Class)

He agreed it was a good idea though he'd had me in mind for Secretary of State. Naw, I said. That would be slavery and I don't wanna travel so much. A slave to Miller and Rourke. Now there's an idea. Wink wink, crack of whip. As secretary, my first order of business would be the legalization of certain vices which I'm sure the VP would endorse. Then, I would make Gale Harold my Secretary of the Secretary of Defense and Treasury. I would treasure that.

Speaking of which...I was shocked at the niceness of Gale's character on last night's Desperate Housewives. So sweet, doting I'm not sure I believed it (I'm forgetting the singing). I'll have to watch more closely a few hundred times. Dear reader, the frightening part was not only GH's gorgeosity, but that he and Teri said some of the same words that me and ExBF17 exchanged, though I'm not traumatized over killing someone in a car accident (I only just got my new driver's license). Maybe that's why ExBF17 felt he had to leave in the middle. Or he couldn't stand to compete with GH's hotness and my fixation on the screen. Hmmmm. Romance is difficult.

Gale Harold is Desperate Tonight!

I've got my Cheetos, chips, mint cookie ice cream, and Paul Newman salsa ready for tonight's Big Moment: Gale breathing life into Desperate Housewives, which might have jumped the shark last season. The only aspect I find funny is that Teri Hatcher's character is supposedly fending off Gale, as in he wants her more than she wants him. Will any of us find this plausible? If so, I'm heading straight for Botox and that molasses, lemon water piss diet. Better yet, I'll go back on my foolproofbutyoumightfaint 64oz Diet Pepsi diet.

In any case, viewers and reGale-ers, I hope you're ready. Dish can barely stand it and will pass the next few hours on a quasi-date with exBF17. The alarm goes off at 8:55pm and everyone will shut up and leave me to my ecstasy.

Seeing my Gale will so make up for the shock and misery of finding exBF16 as one of my "matches" in my online dating account. Luckily, he looks fatter and his glasses are hideous. Delete!

Valkyrie

I never thought I'd admit this: After seeing the recent trailer for Tom Cruise's new movie on Perezhilton.com...(I kinda wanna see it). Dish loves flicks with molto explosions and machine guns. Plus, the whole eye patch and American accent in Germany might be cause for hilarity (though there's nothing funny about Nazi Germany). I will plunk down 12$ for what could be a fart sandwich. Deep down, I support Tom, who has done some good work.

There, I said it.

The Fifth Sign of the Apocalypse

How can one think of anything but the death of Paul Newman? In his honor, Dish has put a moratorium on dieting so as to indulge in his amazing salad dressings, cookies, and salsa. Paul would have wanted that. Dish and Mama Dish grieved during mani/pedis today. I've always felt good about giving money to his products and his kids' camp. Not only was he brilliant in all movies (Dish's personal fave: The Verdict) but he's one of those rare big stars who wasn't all me-me-me, instead giving every single day. Donate today to his Hole in the Wall camps!

Please Give Me a Cupcake

Dish is sitting in her apartment with all the lights off. Not good. It's junk food withdrawal. No chips, no Cheetos, no overly processed foods, no salad dressing on anything, smaller portions. I started crying when I thought of salty lime Tostitos. This lasted two minutes before I flipped on Snapped. Seeing women unravel and kill their spouses makes me happy. Later, there's the debate where Obama and McCain will fight over who has the bigger boner.

In celebrity news, it's hard to imagine anything more exciting than the premiere of DH and Brothers & Sisters on Sunday. I can't wait to see Sally Field kvetch. A funny thing--Tom wants to see Beckett with me on Sunday but I mentioned DH was on at 9pm. He said I could DVR it and watch it later. Ha. AS IF!

Office Hats

I'm watching the premiere of The Office right now, chuckling over Michael's goatee. It's hilarious the sad things we do to express admiration. Because I loved Duran Duran, I stole my father's felt fedora, thinking it would look cool. It didn't. Hats never stay on my head. Oh, Dish, you were so suave at 12.

Don't know why but The Office isn't as funny tonight. Maybe because Pam is "in New York." Maybe they got new writers? Maybe the climax of Jim not proposing to Pam is over? I'll hang tough (3 more days till Desperate Housewives).

Out and Proud

I'm taking a page out of Clay Aiken and Lindsay Lohan's notebooks and declaring my sexuality: I'm heterosexual. I've tried to brainwash myself with pictures of Jennifer Connelly, The L Word, and countless bad relationships with XYs, but I can't hide who I am (though I will keep wearing men's cologne).

Dish kids. Truly, it's wonderful when public figures show young teens (with whom I used to work and whose suffering I witnessed daily) that being gay is just fine. In the last several months, it's nice to see Lindsay happy in those tabloid pics. Ya know?

Olden Times

Confession: I couldn't watch SVU because of a social opportunity. Let's hope they rerun it 500 times after the Season Finale in two weeks. I live in the dark ages--too lazy to stand in line to get DVR.

Celebration: To prepare myself for Gale Harold's bedazzlement on DH this Sunday, I'm having a Gale-athon, which began today with Deadwood: Season 3. From the first $&#*&$, I remember why I stopped watching. I can't understand a thing (which usually means it's brilliant). Deadwood reminds me a little of indies in the 1990s where everyone swore all the time and that's what made it an indy. You gonna effing say it's my effing fault? Okay, it's my mother-effing fault. I'll effing say when it's my mother-effing-loving-effing fault. Hence why I turned to big blockbusters and foreign films for a long stretch. Dish curses like a cracked-out sailor but I can see when my audience's eyes glaze over. I pressed the fast forward button just to see my mustachioed imaginary boyfriend, though he doesn't appear on Disk 1. If Mercury in Retrograde doesn't eff up delivery, the next disk is coming soon, and so are the soiled doves in the brothel.

Luke on SVU

If I hadn't caught two minutes of Insider, I wouldn't have known Luke Perry is on Law & Order: SVU tonight. He was my fave on 90210 and I admired his attempts to have a movie career. So many make that mistake. Luke is excellent on TV, which is nothing to be ashamed of. What he does, he does well. Everyone is ecstatic about Shannen Doherty being back on the new 90210, but I'm sorry, it's not 90210 without Dylan. Loved his cameo on Will & Grace as the bird watcher. Tonight I'll assess SVU, praying Luke is fabulous, though no one is more fab than bella Mariska.

In personal news, Dish needs to be condemned as a relentless resurfacer. After a prophetic dream, the crashing market, and other psychic messages, I had to check on a long-ago friend, Gordon Gekko. Last time we spoke was on 9/11. But shouldn't we all be generous? Then again, Dish is too crunchy to mix with those who can balance their checkbooks.

Reminder: The premiere of Desperate Housewives is coming up. Dish is so excited. Y'all know why. Wink. Wink.

Dancing with the Stars

An hour into the show: Is it my imagination or is it all about hooters?

The Emmys...

...sucked giant hairy moose testes. There, I said it (sorry, Aunt Rachel and Mom). The opening from the five lame hosts was painful to watch, especially with the ripping off of mute Heidi Klum's suit. You know when a row of not-so appealing over the hill hosts surround a supermodel, the hetero-male bodice-ripping fantasy is soon to follow (cue: Eva Longoria surrounded by the cast of Entourage earlier this year). By 10 pm, when Don Rickles came out a second time, I turned it off. A special kudos to Christina Applegate, who was lovely and handled her moment with grace and humor. My secret crush Ricky Gervais did a fun bit. Last note: cannot wait for this election to be over since every award show in the last year has made nauseating political statements (mostly pro-Obama) that ignore the Republicans (who deserve a voice even though they're wrong) in the audience. We claim to be the land of the free? Mostly the land of You Should Think Exactly As I Think (insert stash of Forwards from former Palin classmate and bikini/gun photo).

But let's not quibble. Dish wants lightness. While I despise reality TV (except for Work Out and Kathy Griffin), I will watch Dancing with the Stars tonight. We may be a divided country, but please join me to celebrate a lady we should all get behind (if she can dance). She is a goddess in the flesh: SUSAN LUCCI!!!! I love her since I'm 10, mostly because she reminds me of my mom. Replete with brains and a statuesque gait, Mama Dish boasts gorgeous brown eyes, dark hair, and an infectious joie de vivre like La Lucci. They are both devilish and serious, glamorous and personable, your best friend and the last person you should ever cross. Fierce beyotches, these two. Oops, I said a bad word again. Go Susan (Love you, Mom)!

Awards and Humility

Dish lives by the seat of her pants, picking up whatever pleases the heart. Today it's the soundtrack to Once, specifically "Fallen from the Sky," which helped me get through another grueling run. One of the few times I've cried during an award show was when my two darlings Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova sang "Falling Slowly" during the Oscars, then WON! Usually the worst song wins, but this one was heartfelt and lovely. What made me blubber was their chemistry as musicians and how that movie showcases raw talent with a small budget. You see the frustration to break out creatively, the connection you make with special people along the way...and then you're at the friggin' Oscars. Sniff. Did they know that would happen? Oh gorge, I need a Kleenex.

Speaking of Awards, the Emmys are on tonight. Dish has her snax lined up and will keep watch over the following:

Who:

is too fat or too thin?
wins all the awards?
sports way too much Botox?
is the queen of the night?
is a freak show?
has the best hair?
has the biggest ass lips?
gives the most boring/interesting speech?

My money is that Mad Men will win big and that Jon Hamm looks the best. Dish's full report comes manyana.

Dish Eyes

Some unearthed treasures I've just downloaded:

"Lucky in Love" by Mick Jagger (super fun song, makes me remember my "long walks" around my grandparents' house, puffing away on my Merits, petting a horse on a nearby farm and dreaming about the son of my mother's colleague--Chris, who had no idea I was alive. Ran into him ten years later in a Manhattan bookstore. I had had a hideous screaming fight with Ex-BF 9 and retreated to the Children's section. Bumped into Chris there and my world lit up again. We chatted amiably until the wife appeared, barely shook my hand and pulled him away.

"It's Raining Again" by Supertramp (one of those sad but uplifting songs you can't help but sway your head to)

Thinking how nice it was that Brad Pitt contributed $$$ to helping gay marriage. The cynic in me wonders if he's desperate to do a Brokeback role. BAD DISH! Makes no diff, it's still green.

Apologies to Simon Le Bon

My eyes have melted into my skull. I'm reading Wild Boy way too fast, then turning to my diary from twenty-six years ago and comparing my adolescent obsession to what DD was doing at the same time. Summer of 1983: they were recording in Montserrat. Meanwhile, in Asshole Falls, USA, I was running to my grocery store, looking for new mags. Thinking how to hide from my dad I had started smoking, that those "long walks" had nothing to do with exercise, that I was into a band, and cultivating an eating disorder (which, sadly, only lasted two weeks) to blend in with my stick-thin, preppy, fairisle-wearing peers. There was that horrible day when I saw pics of Duran Duran sitting in the grass with their flock of people (i.e. women) and jealousy sent me into crying fits. One day, the eight-year age different won't seem so bad, I thought. It didn't occur to me that I had plenty of years ahead where I would drool over non-Duran Duran boyfriends, though one did resemble John Taylor and played in a band. In July, my mother called me from London to tell me how she was in the street when crowds came charging down and screaming. Later she learned that Duran Duran had arrived to meet Princess Diana. I'll never forget my agony over not being there--which was the same as being right in front of their trailer as they came in to do their May 2008 concert in Central Park. The sad part about being a crazed fan is that you'll never ever be a part of your beloved's world and they really don't care about yours specifically. (Though I will go to their next concert and take a nice "relaxant" in case I'm ever that close again).

I think I may be super-bored, which happens during illnesses.

Regarding my ongoing secret question about the "Shake up the picture, the lizard mixture" lyric in "New Moon on Monday" and the whole meaning of "Union of the Snake," I learned from Andy's book that it's not about Simon smoking a lot of pot to write those lyrics; being so well read, Simon is convinced we're descended from lizards. (Which could have come from many bong hits)

Under the Weather

Day #1 of jacket weather in New York. Dish is ill so launching into llooooonnnngggg movies seemed just the thing. First Helen Mirren as Elizabeth I. Love it so far! Helen just nails every part she plays, doesn't she? Someday, I want to look as good as she does in a bikini. First, like her, I will rock the red hair and, well, I already behave like a big queen. I enjoy Jeremy Irons, too, and I always picture him on a veranda, chain-smoking and having one of those smoker's wheeze-laughs. He's so refined and dirty at the same time.

My sick day took a bad turn when I popped in The Mists of Avalon as my second llloooonnnngggg movie. All those damn fake British accents, the repeating of the "Goh-DDess" and drudgery. I'm drowning my sinus ennui in Andy Taylor's tell-all Wild Boy, which so far doesn't say much new, but it's incredibly addictive, like all the coke he snorted...

Dogstar Sighting

9/17/08, 12:15 am: Heidi Klum's ex-dog lives near me. The little bitch despises me. She's adorable, like a sweet rodent covered in fur and she barks when I come home. The one time I pet her, she peed instantly. I can't count the number of times I've opened my door to find her urine on my doorstep. Yesterday, on my way to the gym, she stopped and watched me fetch my mail. Her consort-in-evil got onto the elevator but the little bitch stared. I don't blame her, I'm gorgeous in my gym clothes. But I refused to pet her or acknowledge her celebrity.

Warning: For the first time in five months, Dish is going to the Upper East Side this evening. All exes (they are about 4) should stay indoors. I'm so like Billy Crystal in When Harry Met Sally in that I ALWAYS run into the wrong people at the wrong time.

Police! Open Up!

I dream of such utterances at my door with even dreamier consequences. As a result, Dish tried to get into The Wire but it wasn't happening. I'm all for worshipping at the altar of Dominic West--yet, after ten minutes I wondered, do we need another cop show? Why can't he be a cop/pastry chef? Cop/supermodel/Obama? Instead, let me highlight my favorite law enforcers: Mariska Hargitay (one of the most beautiful women on earth), Kyra Sedgwick (Thank yewwwww!), Julianne Nicholson (am so bonding with her red hair and freckles, such a Dish wannabe), and Jennifer Carpenter (I wish I were her). I live for these women! Okay, that hyperbole. And as much as I would wish it, no marathon viewings of The L Word will turn me into a lesbian, so I'd secretly rather Dominic arrive to search my apartment for illegal drugs (Um, all I have is cat nip).

Baggage Handling

Dish is trying to lose weight (though my body mass is fine, I'm a girl and starvation is the law) so today for lunch, I ordered the Brian Kinney special: Turkey on whole wheat with lettuce, tomato and mustard. Okay, and swiss cheese to pay homage to my ancestry. How I wish I could have a lemon bar, too, like the kind Debbie served up at the Liberty Diner.

The Closer Finale and Righteous Kill

My Notes:

Love how Brenda got carried out twice for lingering at a crime scene. She'll do anything to solve a case!

At the end, why didn't they shoot that little f*cker in the head? Who cares that he's a teenager. He shot everyone at the mall and our precious Sanchez might not make it. You'd think these detectives took a class in target practice. Did I miss something again?

Is it my imagination or did the Season Finale come after three episodes?

How much floral will Brenda wear next season? She's such a Georgia peach!

Righteous Kill:

I may be in a mood, but the only way I'll pay $$ to see this one is if De Niro and Pacino accidentally kiss. Any bets on who's on top?

(I've got to stop watching QAF this instant. Once Desperate Housewives starts, I won't need to)

Blame It on the Full Moon

Poor Wall Street took a beating today. I feel bad for those seriously affected (uh, maybe our whole country?) and my retirement/401K is probably in the crapper for all eternity. In times like these, you wanna talk to a finance wizard. Someone maybe like Chris Potter, who before hunking up film and TV was involved in international money stuff. I always love it when people change careers. Look at Jesus, he was a carpenter before he became God. Random related note: Chris shared the screen with our beloved GH on QAF, though he didn't have enough swish for me to believe. I'm sure Jesus wasn't perfect at everything either. He probably wasn't that good at sports.

ps. Saw Julia Roberts on Page Six today and her cheeks are caves in which you could build a cozy bonfire. Dish must get thinner immediately (she says as she eats Ghirardelli dark chocolate with mint filling)!

The Women

Despite having the perfect cast, some movies can stink (Evening). The new The Women is semi-worthy of a rental if you're wanting to feel empowered, do facials, manis and pedis and eat Hostess Cupcakes all by yourself (which Dish doesn't do every weekend). In a theater, it is a little tedious, with 100 contrivances, one-liners you've already seen in the trailer, and a bit too much girl talk. Do not plunk down 12$ unless the following appeals to you:

Annette Bening has never looked better or been more fun to watch. She is fierce and has the best wardrobe throughout. Love her suits, white shirts, chunky bracelets and footwear. AB is so the person you want as your best friend, even when she screws you over. It's Annette Bening, for criminey's sake. I'd let her stick a knife in my back.

In one scene we can all relate to, Meg Ryan takes out a stick of butter, dips it in cocoa, a bowl of sugar and eats it. While I object to her long-hair trend, she is her usual sweetness and moves the story along.

Debra Messing's antics, which we've missed since Will & Grace. What's more, since she had her son Roman, I adore how she's no longer a stick figure. In this, she wears enormous tents. Thank you for this. I do the same during bloating seasons.

As usual Deb Mazar's accent is to-die-for. Though I can see she knows how to do nails like I can build model airplanes with my butt.

I'm not sure I understood Jada's role other than her professional connection to Annette. I guess to be thorough, you have to do a cross section of women: Mommy, Professional, Professional & Mommy, Lesbian Writer. Not that there's anything wrong with this. I would switch sides for Jada (though not in this movie).

Cameo Bette Midler is fun and doesn't overdo it; same goes for Candace Bergen -- two excellent mentors for the bef*cked and clueless Meg.

You'll be fascinated by how Carrie Fisher doesn't look like Carrie Fisher. Or maybe my eyes are failing faster than I thought. I tend to like more Carrie than less. For me, she was the most fun character in When Harry Met Sally. I would have loved her to carry around her rolodex of men while we lunched.

Eva Mendes is smoking and bitchy. Usually enjoy her. Hope she is good in The Spirit.

There are no men. Well, maybe one, but I won't give it away. I wish I could tell everyone to support women in the arts by seeing this one, but Dish has to draw the line. We're in a recession, after all.

Dish Does Read Now and Then

While absorbed in all things Emily Giffin (Baby Proof), Amazon delivered the much awaited Wild Boy by Andrew Taylor--the Duran Duran member who wasn't Simon, John, or Nick. I didn't expect to get sucked in so quickly. Andy was never one of my heartthrobs but I'm floored by his (or his ghostwriter's?) eloquence, awareness and biographical details. It's a pleasure to read, especially if you were (or still are) sick in love with DD. Am not yet at the juicy parts where everyone does blow and modelizes. Or I'm just assuming...A lovely read.

Coco Chin Confessions

Now to divulge hideous secrets. My day was tainted by one of "those" dreams that involved a friend I'm not attracted to (Hello, I'd even take Tom Cruise--okay, I should be so lucky). I confess to another impulse purchase--a Rick Springfield movie. I'm not ready to say which one. While you could carry groceries home in the bags under darling Rick's eyes, he's still gorgeous. My brother confessed his mistrust of women with chin clefts. Women like Claire Danes and Geena Davis. After he fixed my computer, disagreeing with me over Gale Harold's hotness in my wallpaper pic (he looks tired, no he doesn't, yes he does), we spent time watching old Gap ads (you know that hot A-go go one?) and reminising about life ten years ago, smoking invisible cigarettes. Such world-conquerers, we are.

This evening, I'm hoping Shirley MacLaine will wipe away my shame, my freaky subconscious offerings, in the Coco Chanel movie. I know nothing about Coco except Courtney Cox Aniston named her girl the same thing. Please, Shirley, you're our only hope. I believe in Shirley's brilliance, though she can pick some stinkers. It doesn't matter. She is a great force no matter what. I love her books, too.

Update: Am thirty minutes into the Coco Chanel movie and...it's terrible. But I can't stop watching. How is it that young Coco sounds French and old Coco sounds American?

Dexter's Midnight Runner

You'd think people would remember you. Seven years ago, Dish went out on a date with Blinkstoomuch. From his profile I'd gauged he was cute and intelligent. Notsomuch in person and he'd made an early dealbreaker crack about wanting to test out my bed. Tonight, I checked my online inbox and, surprise, Blinkstoomuch wrote to me...as if he'd never met me before!

What else? Celebs are boring me to pieces as I run endless distances and wait for the new Desperate Housewives (for one reason and not those five hos, though love you, Felicity, Marcia and Dana!). Kanye got arrested. Longoria-Parker might have a baby bump or she just might be fat. Johnny Depp might do Batman. Well, I might have a hemmorhoid. To alleviate my blahs, I'll tune in to Dexter featuring that sexy asexual serial killer for the righteous. Thought I'd *hate* this show--too much going on, he's so Smirky McSmirkerson and it's SO "high concept" everyone's dinner should be rising. Love it, though. And hope Dexter never visits me late at night. I have enough PTSD, so please, Dex, keep that knife in your pants! Hearts and kisses and keep up the good work!

ps. I have a few names to add to your list. Wink.

"What Would Brian Kinney Do?" Revisited

It's been my mantra lately after extinguishing all desire for monogamy/children and cultivating a healthy anger toward what's happened these last forty years. Of course, on a day like today, Dish is deeply aware of blessings. I'm lucky to be alive. I'm also aware of the constant suck-fest of existence and mostly, you don't get what you want. It doesn't mean you can't still have fun (unless you're working three jobs). Today my beloved hairguru and friend JJ sent me the above mantra in button form. I despise flair, but immediately tacked it onto my bag. I am the opposite of Brian Kinney (with some exceptions, like constant rage) but for a while I'd like to borrow some of his bolder traits (along with even more rage).

Thanks, JJ! You're my hero!

All A-broad!

Here's why The Love Boat is a must see: Barbi Benton tries to pass herself off as a French babe with a deplorable accent like she's from southern France (oops, I know someone's gonna kill me but I'm a schooled Parisian girl!). Of course she wears a beret, making her so authentic. Patty Duke is on for the guzillionth time finding love with Ricky Nelson and that damnable sensual lower lip of his. I love Patty Duke since my friend L. relayed the following: His loved one died and devastated, he went blubbering to the set where Patty was shooting some show. Everyone pretended nothing happened, but Patty took L. out back and beat the crap out of him. No, actually, she spent a long time comforting him. See? Not all stars are Acute Situational Narcissists. Patty rocks!

In other news, while still 99% heartbroken, Dish is ecstatic to board the vadge train this weekend and plunk down 500$ to see The Women in a real theater. I love the idea of Meg Ryan and Annette Bening sharing screen time. Then, on Saturday night, the moment I've been waiting for since forever: Shirley MacLaine as Coco Chanel on Lifetime! Who needs men with these amazing and entertaining women (and electronics)?

ps. Thanks to JJ for making me look pretty today!!!

Did I See That Before?

In Deja Vu, Denzel plays an embittered investigator of a hot chick's murder. Somehow, he meets up with bloated Val Kilmer who introduces him to super-mind-f*ck science, i.e. a way to go back in time using tons of energy. Basically, it helps geeks watch babes take showers. In this scientific endeavor, you need a lot of nerdiness and sarcasm, all well done by Adam Goldberg who is as irritating as he is pointy and sullen. While Denzie watches the hot chick before she dies, you know he's going to fall in love (men always love hot dead chicks, see all 19th century French poetry) and try to bonify her (but in the past). Denzel is his usual self and Dish realized why the resistance: Denzie does the same thing over and over! I should advise these stars on how to spice up their careers. Denzel needs to cut some farts, walk into walls, do whip-its, and make us giggle in an inane comedy. Instead, he keeps going for that Oscar role or law enforcement guy. Snoresville!

Oh, speaking of snoresville, Lance Armstrong is coming out of retirement. It's hard for these people to stay home and count their money. Hello, Babs, Cher, Brett Favre, Clemens, Michael Jordan, Cher again. Goddessspeed, you people who can't let go. I don't blame you one bit.

Bitin' Biden

My friends are educated, yet lately their rants are more passionate and rhetorical than fact filled. I don't blame them because the campaign has turned me violent, too. I've received countless emails filled with venom against Palin (not so much about McCain)--what a bad mom she is, how bad she is, bad, bad, bad. They sound like my rants of why I love Hillary, how I've suddenly snapped and become adamant that bitchy women should have power (Martha, Barbra, Katie C.), how they get things done. So...with all the shredding of Palin and nothing to discount the Democrat frat boys, McCain skirt-chasing and pundit gang-banging of Hillary, I offer this:

Biden's teeth on Meet the Press yesterday were so white, I had to avert my eyes. It was like that episode of Friends where Ross left the whitener on too long. Old men should have yellow teeth, with a little food stuck in them. I know my gays would disagree, but I like my OMPs with combovers (which Biden has), wrinkly butts, and nasty teeth. Instead, Biden's chompers glow. You know his hair will get darker and more plentiful as we close in on November 4th...

"Ugly Betty" Star Sightings

11:30 a.m., the Woolworth Building: Dish is getting lunch, walking through the lobby. There is next to no one in the building and I ask the ace security team: Are we allowed to go outside? Sure. No problem. I walk to the entrance and pass two little people loaded with makeup. Oh, hello. It's America Ferrara and Eric Mabius. SIGHTING OF THE YEAR!!!

I stood on the corner of Park Place and Broadway and watched as they filmed the two walking frantically across the street. Well done, stars!

James Cameron Inspired by The Love Boat

Headfirst onto my couch, I dove, then tuned in to The Love Boat--the one where Michelle Lee (she's always on that show, the hussy!) has a huge diamond everyone wants to steal. Toward the end, she flings it into the ocean because it's caused so much trouble in her relationship. It was SO Titanic, I laughed my face off. Who knew James Cameron was so derivative? Will admit that I adore Michelle Lee. She just seems like fun.

In other news, I've broken the Da Vinci Code of online dating: if his body is "above average" that means he's fat. "Self employed" means drug dealer or unemployed. The ones over 40 lie about their age by at least 5 years--it's mandatory. I adore the super faraway pictures these suitors put up--as if his golf swing from 100 feet away will spark my love. Best of all: the obviously cropped off pics of these gents with their former significant others and sometimes taken at their weddings. Vavavavoom!

Lethargy

I'm supposed to hostess a getogether at my favorite bar but am experiencing extreme lethargy. I don't want to leave my couch. The purpose of the night is to bring people together--secretly set up two people, possibly another two people, while I sit back and watch, make sure everyone has a good time and the bill is paid. Going out holds no appeal for me anymore. I don't care about meeting people. I already see my friends on Facebook. What's the point?

Especially when there are movies and stars to watch. I felt a shiver last night when I saw the trailer for the new Desperate Housewives. I immediately marked September 28th on my calendar. While that show holds no appeal either, three guesses why I can't wait for it to start. I know, I'm so redundant. To put more intellectual thoughts in my head, I popped in the DVD for Rome. Funny how everyone is British on the show. I had no idea Romans were really Brits. Isn't it visa versa? Everyone loves Rome, but it's putting me to sleep--and I majored in Latin.

Tennis of the Third Kind

Right now, Roger Federer pushes away his wavy locks as he awaits his opponent's serve. Doesn't he know his hair won't stay? Roger needs bobby pins. When in flux, I carry enough makeup/hairstuff for an extended moon landing. Why can't Roger Federer smack his hair down during an important match? It could be a tic. I have those too. When I'm psychotically nervous, I touch my nose.

Despite some leisure time, Dish can't stop working. While I adore not commuting for a couple days, I'm like that ruthless employee who can never shut off the brain. But for the sake of celebrity dish, I'll try. Molding on my movie shelf is Deja Vu and episodes of Rome. I go through periods of loving and being indifferent to Denzel. Sometimes, I feel he phones it in. Is that blasphemy? Sometimes I hate Tom Hanks, too. And most things Steven Spielberg (except Jaws is my all-time favorite movie) and Ron Howard (except Opie and Richie!). Okay, now I should be killed.

Hate to say it...

As much as I disagree with most of her beliefs, she delivered an amazing speech (while Giuliani sounded even more like a loser). And...I'll admit...I *could* envision being friends with her. Dish has a few Republican friends and the only way we stay harmonious is by not discussing politics. That's what our "great country" is all about, right? At least, that's the way Aaron Sorkin wrote it in The American President.

I was on the treadmill the other day, watching CNN (oh, and exercising), and listening to Palin speak. A NYSC employee yelled behind me to another NYSC employee, "We need to turn off all these TVs. I hate her! Turn them all off!!!" Clearly, I was watching and she was hinting that I switch my channel. I almost turned around to remind her that Nazi Germany was over 60 years ago. If she's for Obama, she's for my right to watch an opponent of Obama on the freaking television. Don't mean I'm voting for Palin. She's just an object of interest (and her husband is hot).

Efficiency and Super-Scheisters

How much funner was last night's The Closer? Better than the previous three eps and Fritzy got in a GREAT last bit. Maybe we'll see a wedding in the finale...but will Brenda make it down the aisle? I'll be there feeding her Xanax. Love how her parents spice things up.

My Tuesday was fairly blissful. I had a resurfacer--wish I could remember resurfacers are always bad news--in Super-Scheister, the gorgeous suitor who Dish thinks is a con artist but only humors because he resembles a superhero. All professional tasks were easily accomplished. My blood pressure never went above normal levels and I didn't pay for a single meal. My favorite Starbucks baristo opened up the register just to wait on me. Then there was Federer's excellent match and the arrival of Season 4 of Sex and the City and SNL's Best of Alec Baldwin.

All systems go...

Let Your Voices Be Heard (At Least in Your Head)

For those who love Gale Harold, watch the trailer of the movie Falling for Grace (www.fallingforgrace.com) over and over again. Send urgent but happy thoughts to the director and star Fay Ann Lee that she bring it to New York so we rabid fans can see it. We need a little happiness in our lives. And to support excellent female directors...a little Christine Baranski, too. Oh, and hello, Margaret Cho is more fun than a bucket of chicken. And a bucket of chicken is pretty durn fun.

Wasting Time

Today, I'm exactly like Rafael Nadal in that, after 4 hours of sleep, I dragged my lazy ass to the gym and ran 4 miles. Though weary from Beijing, Rafa played his corazon out and won against the impressive Sam Querrey in 4 sets. Dish has always loved the number 4. And now, I'm set to eat 4 times my weight in ice cream.

This night marks exciting possibilities for television viewing: new Gossip Girl, new The Closer, the Republican Convention--castrated by hurricane Gustav--and more tennis. Hurricane Dish is ready. I don't know which one to go to for the most ugliness, sex, backstabbing, and cliched dialogue. I love all the above items, as long as they don't apply to my life (except for the cliched dialogue, since I rely on it to express my feelings).

As I watched Regis & Kelly this morning, I observed Benjamin Bratt. He was never my true hunka hunka, but I pined for those easier times when he was with Julia Roberts. They broke up right after she got an Oscar and two minutes later he married someone else and had kids. So did she. I wonder if he misses that. How could he not? Since meeting Julia, Benjamin has had a better career. I mean, he was in The Next Best Thing with Madonna. Now he's in The Cleaner (kinda like The Closer only Benji's more effed up than Brenda maybe?). Dish wishes him well.