The End of Brangelina/Laomi/All Decency in TV Reporting

I hear you, Universe. You thought that killing off so many celebrities would lure me back to Dish.  Prince, Gene Wilder, and Chyna couldn't do it. Not even Hillary's pneumonia and the coverage of her every sniffle (screw you, by the way, media). But when you tear asunder the union that created the Uber Papparazzi movement, I have to say Nay. I will not lie calmly and take this abuse.

Actually, I don't care about Bland and Angina so much. My shock waned by daybreak. The little bits about his fondling Russian hookers and mixing substances, well, if I had so many responsibilities I would definitely...okay, no, I wouldn't be so insane. My worst is the Ambien shopping (where did this Reese Witherspoon DVD come from???). But I get it. The signs have been received. It's a big deal for us star-gazers and I'm here to say, I'm back. For now.

Just when I got comfortable, the news came that Liev and Naomi broke up. I checked my crystal ball predictions from a few years ago and found a log of insights into their love: doomed. Not out of knowledge but pure girl gut reaction when I heard him speak at the Rubin museum. He was asked what made him happy. His answer was that only his children keep him going/make him happy. I thought, What about Naomi? My basic feeling is that, yes, children matter a whole lot, but so does one's partner. Stay away from my husband, batches!

One last thing, Universe. Don't you dare break up Gwen Stefani and Blake Shelton. Their love is keeping my sanity intact.

And now, to find a channel that is covering the presidential debate.

I Thought They Would Last Forever!!!

Especially since she's way younger than he is, I thought she was a lesbian, and their legend gap is too hard to overcome. That said, her hotness trajectory squashes his into a tiny tattooed ponytail sporting, hygienically challenged, guitar-playing ant. The truth remains that legend  defeats hotness every time.

For Dish, this is a little personal since I do have some real Depp insight and feel that I want to defend a gifted actor/rogue whose accent has changed with the ages. And yet, I tend to believe women who say they've had the crap beaten out of them.

And yet again, I wasn't there and it's none of my business. I hope the divorce is quick and he gives her $50 million just to go away, then another $50 million to women's shelters and animal rescue (since he loves animals).

In other Dishnews, I've broken up with several shows this season, which means I am reading more (yawn!).

Scandal: I hate to admit that I've always hated Olivia. Love her work ethic but just don't think she's fun. Mellie was fun until she started bellowing too much. The constant monologuing drives me nuts. The president looks as if he's always stoned. Why can't I be? Done.

The Shahs of Sunset: With MJ's sperm testing her BF on Date #2, GG's new tatas and boom boom, Reza pre-commitment vomiting, and Mike's flagrant inability to be a husband, I can't take it anymore. These Shahs are too effed up for me. Asa is the only one who seems sane, but her kaftan company is not as intriguing as her diamond infused water business.

The Real Housewives of Dallas: Too much poop and fart talk and I just can't relate.

The Voice. If you don't hire Gwen, Dish won't watch. Adam and Blake are great, but Gwen is Zen.

Nashville: For those who loved this slow season, I'll solve the cliffhanger for you. Of course, Juliet goes down with the plane. She's had a rough year and probably wants out of this show. Plus, how else can you make Avery a crying p*ssy? He never wins.

My new show to watch? Penny Dreadful. That Eva Green can make herself look so ugly, which I admire in a good actress. Beautifully written and acted, it's a well kept secret. We're obsessed.

Now on to my favorite topic: Gwen and Blake and how their relationship is progressing. No doubt you've seen their duet on The Voice and the Billboard Music Awards. I only supply a link to the former because her weird makeup for the BMA is hard to look at (even though I have many, many times). There's talk about their rumored babies, engagement, marriage, etc... All you really need is to follow her on Snapchat. It's better than most things.

And now, back to ironing TG's shirts and watching nothing.

Star-Sighting--Bobby Flay Strolling on the Highline

Foodies everywhere rejoice! In celebration of the Vernal Equinox, Dish took a nature-focused stroll on that overrated amazing walkway called the Highline. The only thing that would truly amaze me about this site is if you could get high while walking it...or see a celeb!

As hubby and I were navigating the slow pokes, I spied chef Bobby Flay with a younger model. Some may call the new one an upgrade given her sleepy-eyed youthfulness, how she didn't need makeup to temper that morning after, um, glow. Dish calls this a downgrade, for Stephanie March has an impressive body of work and is no typical blond starlet. Her voice sets her apart, so that you believe she's a prosecutor on Law & Order: Special Victims Unit. At the same time, she's beautiful enough so that she can almost (but not quite) share a screen with the spectacular Gale Harold in Falling for Grace. Lastly, Steph did a nice job with Liev Schreiber in the Broadway revival of Talk Radio.

So many thoughts about this sighting. They did look blissful and, in the end, I have to support gingers in their success. Well, except one running for president.

This Is What the Truth Feels Like

There comes a time in everyone's life when a question is asked: What do I do now?

I've met the man of my dreams. We're married.
I've written a book. I'm working on another one. Okay, three.
I work.
I don't really clean or cook.
I do my best.
We watch TV after work.
I go to the gym.
There are no pets, but I wish I had one.
I am managing my "issues."

So what else?  Is this the time when I go through my diaries and remember golden periods of my life? I could do a podcast or more snapchats, instead of following others. Gardening. Volunteer work.

There are no real problems here, just that pre-old age musing about my place in the world or if it is all just this staring out of these eyes, cataloging what I see, reacting, then refueling the vessel. 

Screw that. Depth is not my thing. Let's talk celebs!

Since November 2015, I've been all about Gwen and Blake. That hasn't changed. Maybe I drifted for a few weeks, but then The Voice came back. Begone, Christina, and bring back that other blonde minx who is my age and still rocking it, even though she uses "literally" incorrectly and literally says it in every other sentence. I diss her because I love her.

With friendship, especially imaginary friendship, it's all about transparency.

This is why Julia is no longer on my radar. She seems to be leading a "private life" with her "family" and doing "serious roles." Gwen can multi-task, she's a giver. Not only does she crank out this cool album, This Is What the Truth Feels Like, but she also uploads a new snapchat video every few hours. I know she takes milk in her tea (or is it almond milk). Her Grammy live video rocked, showing us what an amazing roller-skater she is (me too, GS!). Her three boys are precious, thereby giving me a snippet of that motherhood experience (not really, but the cuteness is appreciated). A testament to her fierceness, she traveled to Japan with a flu-like illness, then did a concert! She attended at least four weddings this year. One minute she's doing an interview--and telling us how it went--the next, she's getting her makeup done by her entourage or flirting with Blake on Twitter. She chews gum too--though I'm an Altoid girl.  I barely have time to register the nuances of our relationship before she's packing up for another trip.

What can I say, her schedule exhausts me, but it also has me thinking, "I really don't do anything close to how much Gwen does." If you know me, you understand that this actually is going through my head.

So here I am again. Dreaming bigger.

Oh, and Hulk Hogan just won a $115 suit against Gawker, which means, either my husband or I will be proposing marriage to the Hulkster very soon. Step aside, ladies.

Celebrities Must Stay Inside for the Time Being

This week hasn't been kind to the stars. Losing David Bowie was hard enough for Dish, but Alan Rickman, too? Then just this morning, Celine Dion's husband, René Angélil, who discovered her at age 12, also lost his battle with cancer. You know what? Fuck cancer.

How to lift one's spirits after these losses?

Google Gwen and Blake, which I've done. Do a few puzzles--also done. Eat a vanilla kreme donut, yes. Think about how these stars made our lives better. That's easy to do.

I'm insanely lucky that I got to see David Bowie in concert in 1990--the best artist I've ever seen. He created on a different plane from all the rest. Twice, I saw Alan Rickman turn a so-so play on Broadway into something captivating. He was hot, hot, hot as anything he wanted to be--Snape, Colonel Brandon, the crappy husband in Love Actually. And I'm thankful René Angélil found Celine Dion because in 1998, that freaking song "My Heart Will Go On," well, it coaxed a few tears from Dish during a potent Titanic phase (for which I'm ashamed since it is one of the shittiest movies of all time). Also "New Day" was one of my anthems after a particularly awful year.

Our hearts will go on, but they're a little heavier.

And now to watch the hot mess that is the Republican debate, where there are plenty of candidates I'd rather see vanish. I shouldn't say that, should I?  No apologies here. Life is short!