If Only We All Had the Talent to Diss Our Hookups via Rap Song

I know he offends the gays but I love Eminem since Slim Shady. His lyrics amuse and inspire me. In his latest, The Warning, he brings down Mariah Carey with whom he shared sweet boinkage. She won't fess up to sullying her loins with his shameful man muscle but he claims to have pics, which he might publicize! Thank gawd, Dish wasn't stupid to be photographed (though there are tons of naked pics of me at age 2 and they are HOT!). Bring on the sex tape, Emmie! I am so bored.

Happenings: I'm taking the 9am to Hartford, CT for a Dish family reunion tomorrow morn--My seventh Amtrak voyage in 30 days...

Imaginary Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

Dear Gale Harold,

After four years, I must end our imaginary relationship. I still love you with all my heart but you're not ambitious and callous enough for me. I can't watch any more of your indie movies and my flower needs water in order to grow. On a superficial level, your lips have touched Teri Hatcher's and I can't get past this. Not only that, well, you've changed since you dislocated your shoulder and sustained brain swelling after your motorcycle accident. I've pulled out my hairs trying to love a daredevil with a fleet of motorcycles and my heart can't take the pain--especially after Keanu's many scrapes. I need consistent affection. I need someone who won't horrify me by growing facial hair. I need box office regularity. Most of all, I need a man named after my favorite cold cut--Jon Hamm. Sure, everyone covets his lusciousness but my love is true. Jon is mine (until you get your act together because let's face it, I'm easy). No protests if you decide to visit my dreams. I know it's hard to give me up.

Yours 2005-2009 (and after I break up with Jon)
Dish

Annie Wesching -- Too Bodacious for Bauer

Dish is catching up on 24 and must highlight the latest twinkie--only Renee Walker (played marvelously by Wesching) is no bimbo. Well, she does believe Kiefer Sutherland's blarney and even lets him shoot her and bury her alive (Face it, Renee, he's just not that into you). She finds a way to deal--as great women always do--and kicks some derriere all over town.

To go with my action television, I made an FBI-orchestrated grilled cheese sandwich with highly suspicious tartar sauce. It's risky because you never know how Dish's dishes will turn out. For guests, I can cook like Julia Child. For myself, it's powdered potatoes with a spoonful of mayonnaise and parmesan cheese. Not fit even for live-off-your-armpit-sweat Jack Bauer. Will embark summarily on mission to acquire a top secret macaroon.

The Bachelor

You can release that breath. You don't need Daddy anymore. Or those ex-boyfriends who resurface and vanish for no reason. No more dating losers and binging on Ho-hos while watching Maid in Manhattan. Let go of your troubles and the fear that no one will ever be good enough for you. That elusive man has emerged with the qualities you've craved--honor, power, muscles, a commanding voice, and the ability to wear bright yellow panties.

At last...Hulk Hogan is single again.

Le Pauvre Petit Cocotte

Cher Mr. Le President de la Frog Countray,

Je suis desolee que tu a faintay comme un sissy fille pendant que tu fasses le jogging. J'hope que l'hopital pronounce toi healthie et ready pour action (et le sexy sex avec ton sexy wife, Carla--oui, oui). La France a le tres bon health care unlike Les Etats Unis, qui charge les millions de dollars pour le pap smear si tu n'as pas l'insurance. J'aime la France beaucoup mais pas le French Pop Music qui mostly suck. Mais, Sarkozy bebe, s'il te plait, take care de toi-self et ne faintay plus. C'est pas dignified.

Love et Patisseries,
Dish!

Damn You, Gene Simmons and Your Family Jewels!

I never thought of Gene Simmons as anything more than a big ick with a long tongue. Then he appeared on Rachael Ray and I swear he could charm the panties off a nun, even with his semi-Seagal brillo pad hair. Dish made the mistake of watching Gene Simmons's Family Jewels and last night, all night, he spoke in my dreams. "Dish, Antoine is about to hurl to get your attention because you're not feeding him at 3am." Then I heard Shannon Tweed, who is so loveable and fun. All night long. Today I bathe in their common-law auras though will refrain from searching them out (as Dish often does during the onset of obsession).

What's Up...

...with all these summer disaster movies on Sunday night? We've had two meteor/planet collisions with Earth (stop talking about my butt) and tonight, I will enjoy The Storm. These shows star a flock of has-beens--James Van Der Beek, Luke Perry, the hot chick from Species, all of whom analyze tons of scientific data and report on "wave pulses." My happiness originates from the fact that two of these three disasters star David James Elliott who is too beautiful for words. Ooh, gotta go, the Mojave Desert is turning to ice. Wonder if the human race will survive!

Destiny

If Lindsey Buckingham dropped dead, I think he'd wait for Stevie Nicks and greet her when she kicked it. Some couples never die. I'm watching The Dance and the electricity is still there. How could he resist a tiny blonde who wears feathers and sings like a lamb? How could she stay away from his acoustic hotness and big blue eyes? Don't tell me they aren't pining even though they've moved on. The exes even kiss at the end of "Landslide" and there might have been tongue. Oh wait, this is so twelve years ago. Oops...this is what happens when 3/4 nights you get 4 hours of sleep.

Dish Is Fantastically Bored

It's true. I have mountains of work. I always have work. There is no drama filling my belly with butterflies. As I fend off untrained new suitors that I'm not sure I want, I go through my routine. Read, coffee, clean, write, read, water, gym, lunch, read, movie/knit, water, email, read, dinner, movie/knit, sleep. I'm Buddha about chopping wood and carrying water and enjoy the simple things A LOT. This weekend, with four free days at my disposal, it's more of the same. I could stir up excitement by going out tonight to bother my boys but what would that accomplish? Maybe tomorrow... Definitely tomorrow since the twenty-somethings won't be filling my vision with short skirts, baseball caps and soccer jerseys.

For now, I have to report on JCVD, starring a weathered Jean-Claude Van Damme. You know, the little coke-addled bastard can act. He may have married five times (I'd ravage mountains of coke to get through that, too), survived the Hollywood shredder but he's landed on his feet, much like his main competitor Steven "I ate a buffalo" Seagal. Aged action stars are more interesting when craggy. I recommend this on a rainy day when you're feeling less than yourself and are open to something new.

This Just In

Tennis god and outstanding sperminator Roger Federer and his wife Mirka had twin girls yesterday. Not just one baby--but TWO! Roger smashes to bits global acceptance of mediocrity.

Congratulations, Feds!

Gramma Panties

Desperation is running to the pharmacy to get underwears at 8 am. Before seeing gay Dermy for my lightly freckled alabaster skin exam, Dish realized the lack of coverage. Going commando would have incited a gag reflex by Dermy so I spent $7.49 on barking hideous Bridget Jones Gramma Panties.

Re: Things south of the border--Gerard Butler said on Live with Regis and Kelly that he's doing a "cleanse." Cleansing = pooping a lot. My Gerard fantasies are gone. Celebs aren't supposed to have bodily functions.

Celeb bloggers are unleashing hell on Katie Holmes for her dancing/singing performance on So You Think You Can Dance? She mostly grabbed her head and sauntered. She can't really dance, but I loved her voice. She was better as an actress before she got Tommed.

Quick hit: My ex-imaginary boyfriend Liev Schreiber will be in Arthur Miller's A View from the Bridge on Broadway. Dish loathes Miller but loves Liev. Must see!

What a Mad Man Wants

Dish made some ice for the first time in a couple years. I had cold drinks and dove into Mad Men, where Jon Please-Let-Me-Bear-Your-Child Hamm has a quiet mid-life crisis out in Los Angeles. He's so inexplicable and pleasant, and he gets to smoke on the plane. Remember when we were allowed to do that? Now you can't bring your own saliva on a flying vessel. At 15, Dish used to tell oblivious DishFather, "I have to sit in the smoking section of the plane because I don't want to be around screaming, vomiting children." But really it was so I could puff my Marlboros.

Re: things you suck into your lungs, I huffed oxygen while trudging my fifteen-minute mile and caught Steve Harvey on Tyra whoring out his book about how men think. I have it on hold at the library because I refuse to spend money on what John Gray, The Rules, He's Not That Into You and every other dating book say to women: Don't be a wuss, men respect you if you're ungettable, don't give up your "cookie" too soon. I never give anyone my cookies--especially the chocolate covered graham crackers from Starbucks!

It's Just His Thumb

Hot vampire of True Blood Alex Skarsgard for your viewing pleasure. Dedicated to Mel. You're welcome.

Dating News

I was so worried Billy Joel would go ten minutes without a girlfriend. Allegedly, he's dating Alex Donnelley of The Young and the Restless. She's pretty gorge and a seasoned actron. I'm always amazed at how the newly single male lines up the next one. It's a life skill.

I've Been Flimmed Without My Knowledge!

I think I hurt myself. Launched into manic jumproping for 20 minutes, then did Buns of Steel for 50 minutes. Three Quesadillas later, I might recover--which brings me to tonight's guest, Erin Andrews, the "beautiful ESPN reporter" who got filmed secretly while prancing naked in her hotel room. This is EXACTLY what Dish did in her D.C. hotel room but where is my offensive Youtube exposay? Sure, they always film the hot chicks--Jennifer Aniston, Brad Pitt, Gwyneth Paltrow. Why not film John Goodman checking out his dingaling? Can't we watch Susan Boyle jiggle for the mirror? I do this all the time and my fame does not skyrocket like so. Despite the major embarrassment and violation, everyone now knows who Erin is...though Dish will order Cinemax if she needs to gawk at naked people. It's too tedious when they're so perfect. Be strong, Erin. Get those moronic lamebutts (although they will get theirs, trust me), then forget about it.

Top Secret Update: Dish spoke with a real live female celebrity today. My pancreas was lodged in the throat but I kept it down. As a reward, I'm snuggling with my Gabriel Byrne in In Treatment and eating pineapple (which I'm pretending is Cappuccino Ice Cream Crunch).

B Uhfrayed--B vary uhfrayed!

M tekking thiz bleg hostige! Thay shutz dow-n mi Facebok accownt so i getz the bleg! I m the butterfli thet eatz the honee-B! Dont mezz with me biches n mfs or i'll cutt u!!!

Holy Pheremones, Brokeback!

Just when I thought Jake Gyllenhaal looked like a cartoon character and why do people think he's studly, these pics happen. I laugh at the almost-Fabio hair but even my heart of ice is warmed by his muscles. Yes, I will see Prince of Persia.

Which brings me to today's outrage by another gorgeous person. Supposedly, Jennifer Love Hewitt got engaged to Jamie Kennedy. Ewww. She can do better.

Confirmation that Gale Harold and I are psychically connected: Last night I dreamt Gale was very sick and needed to be rushed to the hospital. I went to him immediately (having never met him) and he emerged wearing a white granny wig and sporting a huge belly. Our eyes locked and I knew we were soulmates. And then he left because he was so blasted he needed to get his stomach pumped.

Les Nouvelles de Dish--en French!

Aujourd'hui, voila what's happening:

La Kick-Derriere Hillary Clinton compared North Korea avec le bratty teenager. Her conseils: Ne Give Them Pas The Attention Pour Ses Stupides Antiques!

Le Frank McCourt a died et c'est tres sad. Il a ecrit le Angela's Ashes, un livre que Dish n'a pas read yet mais c'est un classique! J'ai waited pour le movie, qui est about la Irish Emily Watson qui vomitay all over le place. So, je assume que le story est about le vomit. Blessings on this great talent's coming and going.

Starbucks va servir le booze!!! Oui oui, says Dish. Peut-etre, I could get un petit scotch avec my matin cafe?

Le Humidity Hair today: Comment est-ce que je peux straighten to look hot? Un grand probleme! Aide, JJ!

Congratulations, les astronauts qui a lande sur le moon quarante years ago!

Holocaust = Not Fabulous

Dish had a hankering to see Defiance, about a band of Jews who defy the Nazis by running around in the woods. This is no ordinary Holocaust movie as it stars major studs Daniel Craig, Liev Schreiber and Billy Elliott (who doesn't dance at all in the movie). It's an okay flick but it needed a new angle. Hollywood should gay up the Holocaust. After all, Jews and gays were killed. Most importantly, when you have Daniel and Liev in the woods, don't make them brothers--make them LOVERS! They can still kill Nazis and pretend to ogle womenfolk. Behind those trees and under cover of darkness, let's see them kiss!

Putting Off Unpacking!

Dish is home after four fabulous days in D.C. (but happy to no longer be submerged in a stinky hotel room that smelled like Dishfather's towels after thirty years of usage). My thoughts--still sad about Cronkite though already sick of repetitive coverage. Yes, he was saintly, "And that's the way it is...". Do something different, TV stations, and talk about his bowel movements! Be bold and mix it up.

Yesterday, I watched The 40-Year-Old Virgin and my inexplicable girl crush on Jane Lynch flared to life once again. I must have all her movies. After this revelation, I continued to admire Colin Hanks's stellar performance in Mad Men. Nepotism keeps Hollywood afloat. Everyone gets famous through a relative yet Colin earns his right to be on screen. I predict, he'll be better than his father.

A Legend Dead -- And It's Not Michael Jackson!

Our beloved Walter Crankshaft (as Dish called him at age 10, thinking that was hilarious) has died at 92. Dishdaddy always tuned in to the Shaft and we were not as into Dan Rather. A sad loss for us all. The only good part is that -- finally -- we're seeing historic coverage of Walter's career and the news, and not about the Jackson family and their band of thieves. Blessings on Walter's coming and going.

So...young Mischa Barton barely makes Dish's radar but she gets quite a skewering in the tabloids. She hasn't done much since The O.C. I feel sorry for her having to deterioriate and find herself while being photographed in all kinds of disarray. If she wants to play it smart, she needs to kick any substances, dress like a woman and latch on to a Hollywood icon. It worked for Katie Holmes.

I'm an Angry Woman

Not angry, just mad for Mad Men: Season 2!!! There's not as much smoking or heavy duty scandal but I love how His Royal Gorgeousness Jon Hamm keeps filling his glass with booze. It takes the edge off being a hot man with the perfect life in the sixties. Don Draper is so deliciously tormented!

Dish is in the land of Obama. I can smell him in the air. His overwhelming vibe made me almost buy my required Obama mug but I resisted. Suze Orman tells me I can't afford it.

My celebrity tidbit: Doesn't Franken add some sparkle to those senators? Loved the soundbite with Sotomayor about Perry Mason.

Buns

Dish is on the go--like a do-it-all woman in a playtex commercial of the 1980s. She works, she takes care of the kids (cat), she's so "with it" that she wear a tampon. While the last one doesn't apply, I'm hopping on a train to D.C. in an hour for the rest of the week.

My big thought--I always have huge ones--is the possibility that Penelope Cruz's poochie stomach is a bun in the oven, as reported by Page Six. If that's true, Penelope is my enemy for defiling and ravaging my future husband Javier Bardem. It breaks my corazon.

Let Me Eat Cake

I figured the best way to celebrate my birthday was to post a topless picture of myself. That and receive my usual absurdly early phone call from Dishbrother where he yell/sings Happy Birthday into the phone. Sleep deprivation is so my thing.

I'll spend the day indulging in my favorite activities:

Drinking coffee
Watching Live with Regis and Kelly, The View, Judge Judy, possibly Dr. Phil
Sneak pre-cake at lunch
Exercise or make a good attempt
Hang with family and have real cake

Let's hope nothing too earth-shattering happens to overshadow my day. I was so pissed at JFK, jr. in 1999 when his plane crashed. What a dick!

"I'm gorgeous but...

...I might breathe sour beer on you right before we make out." Gerard Butler: impossibly handsome or does he have hygiene issues like Matthew McConaughey?*

*These suppositions come from random and uninformed Dish-perception and no fact.

Happy Birthday, France!

Dish bemoans the fact that France's birthday takes away her thunder. On the morrow je will turn 41. I'm dreaming only of cake. I didn't want to do anything to celebrate, just mellow out with some Beef Chow Fun and Tropic Thunder, but Dishmama reminded me that my birthday isn't about me. It's about her.

On this day, everyone's abuzz over Sotomayor. I couldn't watch but here's what I think happened in the confirmation hearings:

Republican Senator: Will your being a proud latina influence your judging?
Sotomayor: No.
RS: Will having your periods make you biased?
S: It won't.
RS: Are you racist?
S: No.
RS: What makes you want to be a supreme court judge?
S: I saw Legally Blonde. I heart Luke Wilson!

What else is she going to say in her hearing? Unless she has a public party in her pants and invite them all to join, she's confirmed. I loved her blue jacket from yesterday.

Big news: Saw a pic of Penelope Cruz today and she looked pudgy. I almost Ex-ed out her face only because of her proximity to Javier Bardem but the fatness warmed my heart and made me feel good about my ass. She looks good with meat on her attractive Spanish bones.

Gerard Butler keeps cranking out the romantic comedies and carousing with every possible leading lady. In Dish's book, he's close to Retread (been everywhere, done everyone and looks worn) status. Wondering if he's still boozing. Yes, I'm in love with him kind of.

My New Glasses Are Ginormous

I returned to the trenches only to find on my desk a pile of presents from a most benevolent source. We'll call her Fairy Godmother. Like Dishmama, FG gives great pep talk and toils day and night. My work for FG is a pleasure that requires no presents (but I LOVE THEM ANYWAY!). We know how much Dish adores DVDs, so FG pillaged my Amazon wishlist: Guarding Tess (Shirl!), Postcards from the Edge, Fleetwood Mac's The Dance (Stevie!), Sweet Charity, My Geisha, Defiance (Liev and Daniel, major slurpage!) and Hair. I'll be on the train to D.C. this Thursday, firing up my laptop to do some hard-core viewing. (Merci, FG!)

Dish got new glasses. I was tired of my usual thin, wiry frames and now have a large honking red cage over my eyes. It's kinda Nana-Mouskouri-serial-killer-executive. I enjoy them.

Not a Sham

At John Edward's MSG show today, I was wedged between two large members of The Real Housewives of New Jersey, except they were 100 pounds heavier, hacked swine flu on me and let their stinking feet hang over the seats in front of them. While I'd prepared myself mentally for a visit from the great beyond I knew JE wouldn't read for someone in the nosebleed seats. It's just as well since I haven't been too tormented by a loved one's death. Throughout the readings, I was shocked at how Edward kept giving particular details about Susie Smith's deceased father from Asshole Falls, over and over and over again for 2.5 hours. Either these people are excellent actors or he does see dead people. Someone would have come forward to declare him a charlatan. I enjoyed the message about appreciating your loved ones while they're still alive so that they wouldn't need to communicate through a medium--and that when you "cross over" you don't do it alone. He also mentioned looking at the year of coins you find on the street, which could be messages from loved ones (or, he said, people just dropping change). On my way to the show, I found a penny from 1984. What was Dish doing in 1984? Smoking Merits, flunking physics, managing (drooling over) the boys cross country team, failing to cultivate an eating disorder, and listening to Duran Duran. That is IT!

This show made me think of John Edwards the politician and how does John Edward the psychic feel about being linked with the narcissistic philanderer? A few years ago, when John Edwards was squeaky clean, he might've hated being linked to a psychic.

Random Sunday Thoughts

I'm tired of Perez Hilton describing Lady Gaga as "amazeballs." Balls are not amazing. They just hang there, are kicked or hurled through space.

Why does Gabriel Byrne keeps saying to Dianne Weist, "I'm tired of you and your pet theories, Gina" in just about every episode of In Treatment? Careless writing or is he just a dick?

I enjoyed my viewing of Judgement at Nuremberg starring Spencer Tracy, Monty Cliff, Marlene Dietrich and Judy Garland. I've now seen Marlene in a movie and she's positively smashing. No wonder Spencer Tracy kept wanting more of her coffee even though he really wanted to break down her Berlin wall. My gbfs will revolt, but I don't get the Judy obsession. Love Liza more and don't tell me it's because Liza is closer to my generation. I've followed the yellow brick road and marched in the Easter Parade to where a Star was Born.

My cat didn't vengeance vomit upon my return which means Dishbrotherfriend spoiled him rotten.

Now, I shall retire to my parlor.

To Quote Annie Lennox: Why?

I'm not sure why Fool's Gold is on my hotel room television. It's the failed attempt at repeat success in pairing Matthew McConaughey and Kate Hudson. Everyone knows stories about buried treasure are instant bombs. Matthew spends so much of his life sans shirt, I don't care (suspect he smells bad). Kate is adorable but she can do better. What's that I see? Silver hair, that pointy nose, those devilish come-get-me eyes. It's the #1 hearthrob of my world: Donald Sutherland. I'll sit through endless lemonade commercials for the one who sired Jack Bauer with his magic joy juice.

My next posting will come from the Casa de Dish where I will no doubt be cleaning kitty vengeance vomit. The vacation was worth it!

Gale Harold and I are finally the same age...for the next five days!

Today is a blessed event as my imaginary common-law boyfriend turns 40. Happy Birthday, Sweetheart! 40 is the new 100 but on you it looks GOOOOOOOD!

White Lines

This is what happens when Dish Googles "Simon Le Bon, Speedo." I'm relishing this week's white lines of sugar straight to my veins: key lime pie, blueberry cobbler, strawberry shortcake, chocolate fudge cake. Then there's Duran Duran's cover of Grand Master Flash's song, which Craig Ferguson covered on last night's show:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qYyy1VUFav0. I was a foot from Craig a few years ago when he did a signing for his book. My catatonic friend needed someone to escort her to his table. Usually, Dish is the one who requires a steady cane or Lorazepam to get near a star but I was cool as a cucumber (because I didn't care). Craig is super-charming, though, and higher on Dish's list for doing Duran. Thanks, IrishGirl!

Because it's noteworthy: Dishmama pimped out her daughter to a 70-year-old Santa-esque parking attendant sporting a beach ball under his shirt. Here's what she said to this random stranger, "My daughter's looking for single guys. Do you know any you can introduce her to?" And then she handed him five bucks. She doesn't realize I have the keys to the car and I could leave her stranded at a Lobster Shack. Then again, give her a pound of butter, a lobster roll, a glass of non-Chardonnay and she's happy as a clam.

Vacation Day #7

My family and I visited a yarn store in Bath, which to junkies would be a trek to Washington Square Park at 2am. As I admired Dishcousin's profile in the car, it hit me: pretty, smart, friendly, mature. And she kinda looks like Julia. How dare she look more like Julia than I do. I'm like spitting image but Dishcousin even more so. She uses big words, is a vegetarian and doesn't watch TV (Yeah, me too, ONLY MORE!). And Dishcousin knits. Just like Julia.

But does she have a blog on which she posts topless male celebrities?

I went to get another cappucino and do my now ritual evening flirting with a bartender. Much to my chagrin, Angry Middle-Aged Phil was tending bar, not Underage Warren. AMAP took ten minutes to get me a menu while making drinks (and consulting his How to Bartend book carefully hidden to all eyes except Dish's). Had I applied lipstick, contacts, heels, displayed bosom and straightened my hair (it's raining hard so all attempts at beauty failed!), AMAP would have melted but he was a f*cktard. Last night, Warren rubbed two coffee beans together to get me a cappucino; AMAP asserted the machine was broken, so I stole his pen.

One Snap Away from Rocking Your World or You're Welcome, Volume 2

Troping Trollops

Maine has many lobster shacks. Today, I watched lobsters swimming, playing out their version of West Side Story. As my brood ordered their artery-clogging meals, replete with beer and wine, I wandered over to see the tribute to Michael Jackson. Imagine my horror watching Mariah Carey singing five hundred scales for one note, her hands flying everywhere. Can't singers sing ONE freaking note instead of twenty? Too many young "artists" fall back on troping, not realizing the power of singing without all the detours. MJ certainly didn't trope us to death. Stop it, Mariah. Also, she could build papier mache pinatas with all her hand activity.

I stirred up an attempt at romantical excitement by flirting with a barely legal bartender "Warren" from Jamaica. So classy of me. I gave him a nice tip for finding me a crappacino and then I let him pick my dessert. It was so How Stella Got Her Groove Back except I'm white as a ghost and my fatness levels are far higher than Angela Bassett's.

Dishing Under the Influence

Still in Maine--lights cascading off water, flowers everywhere, sun beating down, smell of lobsters about to die. An interruption of Eden: I read about my darling Joyce DeWitt getting arrested for DUI. How can that be? The little spitfire I saw around my building seemed a perfect, fun-loving girl. Then again, a DUI does wonders for your profile. If you're not working, the best thing to do is drink your face off and flag down a cop while speeding down the freeway. Next, Joyce should get her butt on Dr. Drew's reality show. You can totally pretend you're an alkie and Joyce would be hilarious. She could trip over couches like Jack Tripper.

You're Welcome

Federer topless.
What a lardass!

Wham Bam Grand Slam

Federer wins! I'm so happy he beat that little brat Roddick, I might just order one of those Netjets because Roger uses a private plane for all his flying and I want to support him in every way. I'll shave my legs with Gillette and maybe even knit his new baby a blanket and send it with my stalker care package. Just kidding.

Today, Dish got mani/pedi and listened to a sweet girl's love woes for an hour and a half. I kept wanting to say, "He's just not that into you..."* but she was only 21. It would have crushed her. She had big gray eyes, slathered in black eyeliner, the maturity and youthfulness of a too-young mother. Did her ex still want her even though they broke up right before their wedding and he kept coming over now and then but didn't want a relationship? I remember that circular speak when you don't understand what's happened, you repeat the story and steps leading to the breakup. Dish makes mistakes at 41 though I sorta think what's meant to be, etc... My beloved Dishmama thinks I shooed off Exbf18 but the truth is *. She's darling to fantasize that I might woo him back with delicious, hinty posts mentioning KISS, assuring Exbf18 that my regular commentators don't favor my gender for romantic interludes. I don't blame her--he was painfully handsome and fun. In the grand scheme of things, though, I have candy in front of me, a jacuzzi 10 feet away and six days of nothing to do. I'm happy.

Dish Can Take or Leave July 4th

The sun is setting on the water. I got some nature on my sneakers as I walked three miles along the bay. I'm taking pictures, wondering if it's really true: Are Justin Timberlake and Jessica Biel breaking up? Why do my gay boyfriends love him? He's not hot at all. And I don't want someone saying "Damn, girl" to me all the time, someone who doesn't know what a prime number is, can't tell me the location of India on a map. I don't need to bring "sexy back." I want to bring back the idea of kindness/sticking around even when you're sick of each other at the end of the day. Then again, Justin might be funner. Maybe younger is better. Men my age haven't been a bag of monkeys. Usually, they want younger too but put up with my age because there's some life phase understanding. Okay, never mind about everything--gotta go see fireworks! And I couldn't give a rat's derriere about Justin/Jessica. They can do triple-axels off my ass. Well, as long as Justin keeps hosting SNL and Jessica stays out of movies (though enjoyed her in that Illusionist one for some reason).

Booth Bay Harbor

My digs for the next week are palatial. The room is bigger than my apartment, which overlooks the bay. I'm in heaven. Where are the stars? Well, Sarah Palin resigned and Roddick beat Murray. These unexpected events seem related. Sarah doesn't want to deal with Alaska anymore and I don't blame her because it's a long-ass plane ride to the real fun: either to attend Michael Jackson's millionth public tribute or to see Roger Federer kick the holy crap out of Roddick at Wimbledon. What is our Sarah doing? Hibernating to read about foreign policy before launching a bid for the presidency? This is the movie montage where the candidate/jock/student goes underground to endure vigorous workouts with nasty/loveable mentor who whips him into shape for final showdown. I'm sure far more violent derision will come out over her dramatic decision than over South Carolina's governor leaving suddenly to boink that woman in Argentina and then cry about it like an ass on TV. I'll never vote for Palin, but at least she gave notice and isn't living in her underpants.

Cocoon Vacation: Day 1

Dish can never sleep before travel, though I don't recommend Ambien packing. Let's just say I tried to put 10 fishoil pills in a too-small container and it's not pretty. Don't ask why I have sheets of stray aluminum foil in my suitcase. Was I planning on channeling the blazing sun in Maine? Dish took a trek around Harvard today and Elle Woods from Legally Blonde wasn't there! What a pretty campus, though.

Off to dinner. No big celeb news that I care about today.

Vacay

Dish leaves for Maine tomorrow with the cast of Cocoon. No, really, it's just a family vacation, which to most would mean A Week Behind Bars. I'm lucky to be related to a flock of fun-loving party animals. They shop, they chillax, they do lattes, they gorge on all the wrong things and drink like fishes. I'll be the goody-goody of the bunch (though I did pack a bikini). Just as long as no one winds up in the hospital, it'll be great. The night before I travel, Steven Seagal appears in some form. This evening, he is magically on AMC in Out for Justice, where he dons a beret and a NY accent.

Will the celebrity deaths ever end? Karl Malden has left this earth at 97, before he had time to accomplish anything in his short life. Sigh. I just watched him as the molesting father of Babs in Nuts. I'll miss his cute bulbous honker.