Cleaning Out the Attic

I love to hate Countess LuAnn on the Real Housewives of NYC (while secretly thinking she's beautiful) but the poor girl just separated from her husband, according to the Post. It's the oldest story in the book (the ugly one in the relationship cheated) so I won't go into details. A new episode is on tonight and I have no fake-venom for LuAnn. I send her Zen chocolate, Italian wine (because her soon-to-be ex is French and Italian is just fine thank you very much), episodes of Will & Grace pre-Leo, and hundreds of dollars of Sephora to slather on face and stare at in the mirror when you wonder where your youth went. Oh. Wait. I never do that.

Random: I'm disturbed that Zac Efron has become attractive to me. Maybe a week of being single has diseased my brain. He's a zygote and I have to prepare myself for the OMPs rather than the studs. Al Pacino = appropriate for Dish; The Jonas Brothers = So wrong.

Letting Go

So, a former Wall Street analyst is coming forward to talk about her becoming a stripper in this tough economy. What an excellent option should things go south for Dish. Just kidding! I would never do that to drooling slobs. Especially since I'm going to let myself go: eat whatever I want, not wear makeup, not date for at least six months, exercise only to feel good, take all XY interaction with a grain of salt. I can abide by all this except I never really pork out. After youthful fatness, my alarm goes off when the zippers become imbedded in my skin.

Save a prayer (Yay, Duran Duran!) for Willie Aames who's fallen on hard times. Star of Eight is Enough and Charles in Charles has gone through foreclosure, divorce, finding Jesus and attempted suicide. Things have to look up. He should start reading Star Jones's new blog: www.positivelystar.blogspot.com or do what I do when depressed: Watch Tons of Television!

Dish watched Celebrity Apprentice for the first time. Verdict: loved every moment without Donald. Her plastic surgery scares me, but Joan Rivers was darling and had a vigorous work ethic, Clint Black = adorable even with the dorky hat, Jesse James suprisingly nerdlicious, the crossdressing b-ball player who used to date Madonna = typical mess, and I enjoyed Ivanka Trump. While she comes from Senior Toupee, she is articulate and smart. Maybe she takes after her mother?

Tempted to try the new sweet tea at McDonald's...

Extra extra

I shouldn't say this, but I will. Dishbrother saw Duplicity and thinks Julia may have had work done. Something was different, around the eyes perhaps because one of them droops. I've memorized every inch of that woman's face so I would notice. Dish is armed to see the flick next weekend. I'll get to the bottom of these vicious rumors I'm starting. Not even our Julia is immune to the pressure of plastic surgery. Who's next? Dish?

I am watching The Main Event, which was excellent when I was 11. Now I have no idea what was so fascinating about multiple shots of Barbra stretching, butt to the camera, that huge mop of hair and Ryan O'Neal's implausibility as a boxer. Will that stop me from watching the whole thing?

Bon Voyage

Dish is off to Connecticut for a day. In my morning viewing of Love Boat, it's an OMP convention with Pinky Tuscadero (who plays an exotic dancer, of course) wooing a one-foot-in-the-grave Peter Graves, a minister. Sin and religion! Oh, the rapture!

Last night I dreamt I was in college biology at age forty. I sat at the front and slammed my books on the desk. Class began, the lights went down and Pearl Jam appeared for their concert. How lucky is that?

Eating Salad Again

Facebook said my celebrity boyfriend is Colin Farrell and I instantly caught Chlamydia. But happiness returns now that I've seen Loretta Swit play a Soviet inspector of cruise ships on The Love Boat. Loretta tries to boink Dr. Bricker (um, ewww) as a sexier and less drunk seeming Robert Goulet woos Juliet Mills-pre-Maxwell-Caufield. Suddenly, I'm ten.

Madonna is adopting again (kinda like she adopted Rupert Everett after the wild success of My Best Friend's Wedding--Malawi is SO in right now--only to make the sh*t sandwhich that I secretly love The Next Best Thing--okay, maybe it's not at all the same thing, Dish has too much free time to think absurd thoughts) but at least she's not hurting anyone. Mercy James will have a better life. She already has a cool name. Madonna should descend on the octoplets next.

Dish is considering Twittering. Will you follow?

Thursday

Here's what I know:

Four consecutive nights of Carvel cake does not a flat stomach make. Dish is a little ill.

Morrissey is playing at Carnegie Hall and I'm so glad I'm not there because he's like every gooberbottom I dated in college. I don't care if he's a tormented asexual vegetarian. Who isn't?

The backlash against Obama's many media appearances cracks me up. As if talking to the public is not part of his job. No one is satisfied! Ever!

Angels & Demons = another opportunity to see Tom Hanks with long hair. Maybe he'll run more in this flick. Fun or stupid as hell?

I'm dying over Dr. Phil who two days in a row is practically humping Octomom. He claims he only cares about the babies and instructed his staff to stay away...AND STILL COVERS THE TOPIC EXTENSIVELY FOR TWO SHOWS! If anyone cared for these children, their thriving in a sane environment, they'd be put up for adoption.

Victory!

I finally had my moment. The elevator opened and Gucci Pig appeared. I took one look, scowled and breezed past her. It's like she wasn't even in my air space. Can't wait to do it again.

Dish seems to be single yet again, but I have recovery down to a science. 1. Eat Carvel cake which neutralizes Sudden Stress Anorexia. 2. Watch girly movies. 3. Switch to Queer As Folk where Brian has to pretend he's unfazed when Justin takes up with that pretentious violin player (who is so not even in the same league as Gale Harold). 4. Transformation is complete. 5. Repeat as needed, especially with Step #3.

Tonight, I laughed all the way through Sex and the City: The Movie. Oh, the absurd conflict and forced drama! I love it when Carrie hits Big with her wedding bouquet and screams, "You've humiliated me!" How about, "I'm humiliating myself on a bustling city sidewalk while wearing a ridiculous peacock feather!" I wish I had a dime for the number of times the girls squeal over Samantha's endless returns. Charlotte poops her pants and Miranda doesn't wax (I don't blame her but way to play up the busy mom/woman stereotype). The only sane person is Jennifer Hudson whose loveability rages throughout. Wish it had been Jennifer Hudson and the City. Will admit, SJP looked pretty fetching when she made up her mind to be a brunette in her recovering-from-devastation period. Which makes me think...time for a huge hair makeover?

In the words of Meatloaf, Let me sleep on it...

Rage in the Cage

I'm still holding my nose over the smell. Last night, I dreamt Dishbrother transported me to a large building where I could star-gaze. The place featured wrestlers. As if stinky steroid boys blew my hair back. Like a good stalker, I waited, watched. No sooner did I strike a pose than Nicholas Cage approached me, flashing a high-wattage smile I haven't seen since the glory days of Con Air. We chatted and I was under his spell. What's more, he found me fascinating. I made myself wake up since this is kinda my worst nightmare (loved him in Adaptation and think he's a good actron, just smelly). Is this a lesson not to judge on the appearance of stinkiness?

Update: Dish's excitement is The Real Housewives of New York (I love to hate LuAnn!) and a Carvel ice cream cake.

Generosity

In my efforts to conjure Julia, I rewatched America's Sweethearts, an amusing and tawdry Hollywood farce. Former fatty and sister's assistant, Julia beams and helps everyone. Chaos ensues when she boinks her ex-bro-in-law played by John Cusack. Her character had lost sixty pounds--making her boinkable, thank goodness--but she didn't shed her niceness. This past weekend, I lost five pounds due to stress anorexia but I bought myself a Carvel ice cream cake and I'm on a mission. Life isn't normal if I don't have visible panty lines obscurring someone's aesthetic ideal.

During the flick, John keeps repeating what he's grateful for. I'm grateful that I had enough manners (which some superheroes lack) to help a young woman put her heavy suitcase on the overhead rack, even though I threw out my back. I'm also grateful for my family and friends who are nothing but kind and supportive.

I Love You, Man

Dish never wants to set foot in Albany again. Not just because Superman found a way to release my wrath but it's where I saw my last Paul Rudd/Jason Segal movie. I'm done with the boy-chick-flick. I Love You, Man wasn't that bad, but it didn't have the crazy funny lines of Judd Apatow movies. Rudd and Segal are patently adorable, the concept of a bromance is endearing, but execution was predictable. As Superman caulked his house, I also watched Nights at Rodanthe, which was equally predictable. Diane Lane's natural beauty is hypnotic as are her J Crew outfits. How often does one wear nice skirts while running a B&B? She put dinner together, always had perfect hair, and a charming self-deprecating attitude. Richard Gere couldn't help but fall in love right before he bit it in a mud-slide. But, yawn, you've seen this story five million times.

So this Sunday night, I'm trying to pick up the pieces of my strange, suddenly upended life. Brothers & Sisters is on and thank goodness Tommy is no longer on the show. Sally and the gang can move on. This is probably as good as it gets, though after many months of high flying, I was due a crash to earth.

Delicious Dish

Dish is up way too early. Superman wants to catch a 8:20 train which is madness. In a few minutes, I'll be putting an icemask on my eyes. Strong coffee with nutmeg and cinnamon to animate my chi. No breakfast yet. Who will get me going this morning? Julia. Her movie Duplicity opens today and I think it'll be the first where she's sexy and not just adorable. It pleases me that women over 40 are getting sexier in movies. Thank you, Anne Bancroft, for helping pave the way.

Working for the Weekend

It's hard to think of anything other than Natasha Richardson's death. Lasagna and my new Nano helped. Dishbrother was so kind of set up my technology and indulge in episodes of Will & Grace. New and exciting: Dish is going to Albany which is near Superman's Fortress of Solitude. Yeah, so I'll be helping clean the fortress so that Super can rent out rooms. Who knew I could be so domestic and helpful? I'm only there for the snacks along the way. Well, Superman is cute. I just hope he doesn't steal my new Nano--which he did on our last voyage. I'll retaliate by making him watch Nights at Rodanthe, which seems sh*ttastic. Since the story is based on a Nicholas Sparks novel, I'm sure warm exchanges and one key death will occur. Hmmm, maybe the hero (Richard Gere) will bite it this time...

Sleep

Dish is now on Twitter, which is twitterpating. What's its purpose? I made the mistake of following Ashton Kutcher, who updates his Twitter every five seconds. Lordy, does he do any work??? Is he trying to be intemellectual?

Tonight I tried to resist television. I kept it off for two whole hours, painted my toes in silence, pet the cat and began psychological warfare with Superman. Superheroes can be so absorbed in good deeds that we sinful mortals are an afterthought. But I'm not complaining. Nope. I can eat my ice cream without any help. I'm 40.

So Sad

This is how I want to remember Natasha Richardson. I found the postcard of this movie before viewing and carried it around to stimulate a lost romantic sensibility. Sadly, I have no recollection of the story or the performances. But I do remember NR as Caroline Lane in Maid in Manhattan, which is how I honored the late actress. You never know when your number is up. My thimble of scotch and I salute her and her family.

Don't Ski!

Too many celebs (Sono Bono counts as 5 celebs) have died on the slopes and poor Natasha Richardson is fighting for her life. Let's all do cross-country from now on, shall we? It's less of a rush but safer and more aerobic. Must confess, I've only seen Tash in The Parent Trap and Maid in Manhattan but her being the spawn of Vanessa Redgrave makes me ten times more concerned.

To console myself after her accident, I'll watch Carol Burnett on SVU. She plays a strip-club owner, and I hope she kills someone! If she comes out in tassles and a thong, well, my year will be made.

Silver and Virgins and Swootsie, oh my!

This evening I watched The Born-Again Virgin. Oh wait, no. I watched Maidenhead Revisited. That's not right either. Brideshead Revisited. And can I say, what a dreary bore. Emma Thompson and Michael Gambon add light to anything. The rest of the cast put me to sleep. Here's the equivalent to Prozac: Romantic atheist painter (zzzz) goes to Oxford, meets up with some homos, one of whom barfs in his apartment then brings him home to his lavish estate. The barfer has mommy issues (if Emma were my mother, I would too because I'd want to hang out with her ALL THE TIME) and kisses boring painter. BP kisses depressing sister who has a bob, which is witnessed by barfer. Everyone throws a tizzy. People die and other bad marriages ensue. BP and Bob are reunited on board a ship and have sex, screw up their lives, but ultimately Bob goes back to God and BP becomes a soldier. So now you don't have to rent it. Read the book instead!

Last night's Desperate Housewives: What scared me was how skinny Swootsie Kurtz was. I love her, though, and enjoyed the positivity of female friendship. She and Teri ran an art room together but I thought both would collapse from breaking of toothpick legs. It's time for everyone to eat!

R.I.P to Ron Silver. Such a pleasure to watch. I have a difficult time imagining that some entertainers are gone. He is one of them.

Season Five

Euphoria is here. Dish finished an enormous project. Superman is home and happy (and wearing tight white leopard print shirt but that's more entertainment for me). I just helped him buy a Brita filter, which was an enjoyable task. Now Dish won't get dehydrated at his place. Tonight I'm making him watch A Mighty Wind. I adore Jane Lynch and this is my small way of communing with the goddess.

I must give credit to Season Five of Sex and the City for getting me through this work-filled weekend. Charlotte got rid of Trey, Miranda got knocked up, Samantha got involved with Richard (who is super-sexy), and Carrie finally ditched Aidan (too good for her). My favorite SATC period was the wedding of Nathan Lane and that chirpy blond, when Samantha takes those big melons to mock the disrespectful girls with implants and then throws them at the window. Oh heck, I love all of Season Six except for Boring Berger.

Happy Sunday to all!

Appreciation Night

Dish had a drink with a friend who worked in films for years. I got the dirt. But I wanted to know who was cool. Several names came up but one made me nostalgic: Gregory Hines. DishFriend said GH would walk into a room and make you feel like a million bucks. A rare quality in a person, much less a celeb. So sad that such talent and goodness was snuffed out too soon.

Good Friday?

I hate one of my neighbors. She's yelling right now. Not because she's frustrated but, yeah, she's one of those loud girls. Fake blond, sporting a brassy accent she can't hide, slathered in designer clothes she has no business wearing. She's one step from a stained track suit, I know it. I see her reading her US Weekly that she gets delivered. Why not the New Yorker? Because she's stupid. And mean. Everytime she sees Dish, she scowls. I tried saying hello once, but now I don't bother. I just press the Down button and wait for the day when I can squash The Cow with my foot.

A little nasty Dish tonight but at least I'm not dissing a celeb. I have a huge deadline on Sunday. Must send a large document to someone important and I have 150 pages left to edit. And Superman's coming home. My apartment is a mess. ER was a collossal bore last night (though might have slight crush on George Clooney now) and...and...I have nothing to watch on TV!!!

A Television Event

George Clooney does nothing for me. I'm sure if he were up close, I might faint a little but I've been over him since Facts of Life. I feel the same way about ER. Can't watch it. Well, a certain relative ruined it by telling me that when he saw the opening (where Juliana Margulies attempts suicide because she was left at the altar) Juliana's character reminded him of me. Thanks!!!

Despite my indifference and fifteen-year boycott, I'm DYING to see George and Juliana reunite on ER. It's so huge, it's called an "event." Don't care about Eriq or Anthony or Shari or the one with the limp. George and Juliana together again: epic and only happens once in a lifetime (unless they wind up together on Lifetime at the end of their careers--hello Mary Steenburgen and Ted Danson, love you).

ps. Superman is sick in Ethiopia. Two days of fever and every other bad thing. Two days of not buying me presents. :(

Calgon and Chain Gangs

Treat yourself and groove on rock empress Chrissy Hynde of The Pretenders as she belts out a favorite. Dish listened to "Back on the Chain Gang" while trying to survive a brutal assault on the treadmill. Somehow, Chrissy made everything okay. She helped me trudge faster than a twelve-minute mile. Plus, she rocks eyeliner like no one else.

And now, as I lay me down to sleep, Dr. Bricker is trying to woo Barbi Benton, Captain Stubing threatens to fire Gopher, and Julie McCoy's pants are too tight. Life is as it should be.

Welcome Back, Steph

I was going to watch The Real Housewives of New York, mostly for fall-out over Kelly Killoren Bensimon's arrest for slugging her boyfriend. She bugged me from the beginning with her riding and dissing of Ramona right before her competition. Common sense prevailed and what a pleasure to see brainy Stephanie March back on Law & Order: SVU. She's sounds as if she's even been to law school. Carol Burnett guest stars next week!

In other news, a Page Six item mentioned Jason Segel's full frontal in Forgetting Sarah Marshall. While Dish generally appreciates full frontal, there is far too much Segel wang in FSM. Superman and I were both offended by the number of unveilings. We understand Segel's pride. He wrote the script so he could put as much wang as he wanted. Because Superman adores anything related to Judd Apatow, we're seeing I Love You Man, but I will stew over the disappearance of the comma with direct address (reveling in the absence of Segel's full frontal).

Star Sighting

11:40 am, The Woolworth Building: Dish walked out for lunch and there was America Ferrara in pink tights and leopard coat. Adorable! Of course, Dish couldn't form words to scream, I LOVE YOU, AMERICA! Does she get a kick out of the fact that Obama ends his speeches hoping that God blesses her? So flattering (especially since she's a Clinton lover like Dish!).

Tonight I'm lowering myself to watch Dancing With the Stars. Supporting Belinda Carlisle, the Playboy chick, David Alan Grier, Jewel's rodeo husband and Denise Richards. Within five minutes of the show, I'm already loathing Simon-wanna-be Bruno.

Old and Fat Dish

Sad truth: I was in Old Navy today (Payless before that) and the pants didn't fit me in my usual size. I wonder if I'm getting fatter even though the scale says I'm only 5 pounds heavier than I was at 22. I'd ask Superman but he has the unbearable tendency to tell the truth. Any good gay man will tell me what I need to hear. Time for Dish to call a friend! [sound of potato chips crackling]

Tonight Dish will forget the transfer of weight from brains to hips by watching Sally Field smack Balthazar Getty on Brothers & Sisters. Love that Sally! She has a banging body still. Could be the Boniva.

Sign Me Up

It was an accident. The TV was on and I spent the evening giving myself brain damage. I blame three hours of sleep and too many hours working. First The Real Housewives of New York -- all annoying and mean except for Bethany -- corrupted my youth. Then I got hooked on Millionaire Matchmaker. Before tonight, I'd refused to watch because of Yenta's Cher hair and distracting cleavage. Now I'm a convert. That woman is no BS about getting people together. I don't want her to set me up, but I wouldn't mind shadowing her. To top it off, a Save the Children sort of commercial aired starring a teary Laurie Metcalf begging for help. Flash to needy child crying over his murdered parents. I am this close to ordering Superman to bring us back a baby from Ethiopia. Damn you, Laurie, for pulling at my heartstrings!

Pps.

Does anyone know why there's so much backlash against Miley Cyrus in the last year?

I See Dead People

Ghost Town: I waited for Ricky Gervais to leap out of his skin. He cackled once in his sleep. Gag reflex gag was funny the first time with the laxative (old people tell me how fun colonoscopies are--can't wait!). Of course, witty lines sailed past his deliciously crooked teeth and into cine-space, but not winningly enough to buckle my knees. Billy Campbell's caricature was fine though prefer when he's Mr. Nice Guy (Exception: he was fantastically creepy in Enough). Even Tea and that oversized dog couldn't save this script. Worst of all, Ricky and Tea didn't even kiss, much less shag. The best love story was the semi-Ghost-like communication between Tea and Greg Kinnear, who is so underrated along with Josh Brolin (and Tea) I could cry me a river.

Verdict: As with Evening, a brilliant cast but a script my cat hocked up behind the couch.
ps. Dish would gladly watch this again if it were on TV but will never admit it publicly!

Thursday Thoughts

1. Dreading seeing The Rundown but Superman bought it in an effort to get me to like The Rock. My brother's former nemesis (I carry a grudge) directed it, which is why I boycotted. I will try.

2. Josh Brolin is a genius in W.. I found myself feeling compassion toward W. (I know, I know--he's a criminal). My favorite performance was by Stacey Keach who, for about a minute, made me appreciate allmighty Jesus Christ as our lord and savior who was born swaddled in a manger and preaching love. I was moved to tears. Wasn't Keach busted for coke?

3. Poor Rihanna. Bring in Tina Turner to do an intervention.

4. Not sure if Kath & Kim will fly, but Molly Shannon and the Christopher Guest regular keeps me watching.

5. The Watchmen comes out tomorrow and stars Billy Crudup and Jeffrey Dean Morgan, both of whom were involved with Mary Louise Parker. Dish wonders: did they fight on the set or compare notes?

Fast Notes

Dish crazy busy. Tried to watch Ghost Town due to secret love for Ricky Gervais. Disk messed up! Reported to Netflix immed. Screen nausea prevents me from watching W. except in 10-minute spurts. Secret love transferred to Josh Brolin -- the most underrated actor in Hollywood. Josh Brolin = bad boy you're in love with though he treats you like garbage; Ricky Gervais = fun guy you should wind up with, who becomes attractive as you get older. Both necessary in life. What Dish needs is fresh air. Skin ghostly. Want chocolate desperately but settled for graham crackers, which will wind up on back of my thighs. Hello, XL T-shirt to cover hideous leggings at the gym.

Molly, Save Yourself!

Sweetheart, he didn't pick you the first time -- good enough reason to bail. Mostly, run from The Bachelor because his eyes are set too close together (and he has no problem razing a girl's self-esteem on TV). He seems cute from afar, but up close, here comes my dinner. When he's 80, he'll be spindly, uber-hideous, and whack small children with a cane. Sure, he's a single father but so are K-Fed, Brett and Tommy Lee. The Bachelor's supposed sense of responsibility is a steaming pile of what my cat just left behind.

Dish never got into The Bachelor as it reads like televised prostitution, but after last night's humiliation of Melissa, I have to make sure Molly does the right thing. I don't buy that crying on the balcony nonsense. He just learned that from his young son. Okay, maybe this is exactly what producers want -- a skeptic like Dish to tune in. Emancipate Molly!

Work Whirlpool

Dish is a Dish-of-all-trades, making use on non-Superman time. No stars' ears are ringing right now. I even drifted off during last night's Brothers & Sisters. Saw lots of heroines running down the halls, Rob Lowe puked a little before collapsing, talkative yet infertile Callista finally snagged a baby of her own, Sally gave sage advice, and the tough-as-nails gay one finally cried.

Alas, my only brush with celebrity today was to see Jennifer Aniston eat a dog biscuit on a German talk show. Did she swallow that bite or spit it out in a napkin? Do German dog biscuits contain a layer of marzipan? I digress from Aniston. Okay, I have nothing else to say.

To revive my show-biz heart, I'm watching Episode 13 of Season Three of QAF. Let's hope Brian Kinney's shenanigans do the trick.

Thank You, Dish's Subconscious

It doesn't happen often. The Cosmic Goddess blessed Dish with a Gale Harold dream. Sadly for me, this one is Rated G:

Dish wanders in a Debra Messing fog as she just married a male acquaintance--for convenience since she's a spinster and he's a drifter on a slow boat to nowheresville. Everyone is talking about it. Dish hopes she doesn't regret the marriage. And what about those math classes she forgot to attend that morning? Is she going to fail Calculus II? Dish sits in a classroom, which is her office, and waits for her husband. He shows up, they eye each other with distrust and confusion. Dish leaves the building for some air and there, fresh from his own life musings, is Gale Harold. He lets Dish hold his hand because that's what you do when you see Gale. He complains about flunking his computer class and sympathizes with Calculus II angst. They walk through a train and get to the last car, seeing their town go bye bye. (WTF?)

Tidbits: His Highness, Superman, touched down in London safely but is en route to Nigeria. Malaria medicine down the hatch! Dish has new love for Jillian Michaels though never experienced The Biggest Loser. Her exercise DVD kicked my butt! And now, I must prepare for a two-hour Brothers and Sisters event. I hope to see many Sally Field hissies. In one trailer, she's running down the hall, which excites me.