"I'm Crying in My Jello Shots, Y'All!"

Oh, Emily Maynard, what are you doing? Dish used to believe in you and your giant fake teeth! Am I to believe what I'm reading--that your Bachelorette love with Jef Holm is a sham? First you get chosen by Brad Womack and you can't hold him down. Sure, he was a scary rageaholic bar-owner, but you could have had everlasting bliss in Texas, dammit!!! Now Dish is totally writing you off, Engagedthreetimes Maynard. I don't care how darling you are or that Dolly blessed your search for love. I'm going to believe the whispers that you really want $$$ and your own reality show! Arie Shiny-face dodged a bullet!

Just caught the first episode of Scandal and I might never watch it again. It's all about Kerry Washington yelling out orders and giving speeches. Yawn. Bring on the hunkalicious presidential debates!!!

Facebook crisis: I have this Friend, we'll call her Madame X, and I check her profile every few days. Sometimes I comment, though not usually because I already feel like a stalker. We're not really friends, but our paths crossed for a few years and I worship her. She does things I wouldn't dare venture. Every update makes me giddy and when she "likes" my status, it's like having Julia Roberts notice you're alive. So, after my FB fast, I checked to see if she posted anything new and SHE WAS GONE. I wondered if maybe she caught on to my mild stalking because it's all about me. I checked mutual friends lists and she was gone there. Since I've seen so many episodes of Snapped, Deadly Women and Dateline, I frantically checked the web to see if something bad happened. Nothing. I hope she just decided to unplug from the world for a while because that's something I want to do, too, but can't venture right now. Best wishes, Madame X, wherever you are.

Just Call Me Algernon!!!

My fast couldn't last forever, right? For 72 hours, Dish was coherent, going back to her brainiac and 50s housewife ways with ironing, reading heady literature and grooving on the To Do list. I blame Sylvester Stallone!

Okay, Dr. Phils, it's my own fault. I rented Daylight so that I could investigate Sacha Stallone's acting. He's better than his dad, but the whole movie sucks serious ass. Of course, struggling writer Amy Brenneman is going to live in a grungy New York apartment with cockroaches. Of course, because she's poor, she's going to have long frizzy hair and wear floral dresses. Of course, she keeps getting rejection letters just as thugs hang out near her door, looking for a chance to B&E because she's a victim and secretly pretty. Thank goodness she has 5 locks on that door (but no bars on the windows). Hmmmm, as she drives toward the Lincoln Tunnel, ya think she's going to encounter adventure? 

Then I went to a reading of my high school friend's fantastic book in the West Village. I even wore heels, a rarity since I like to be able to run away fast. I'm reading Pema Chodron and she encourages you to run toward the hairy dragon instead of away. A flock of us girls gabbed the night away--someone mentioned someone seeing Uma Thuman's actual breasts and we agreed they are magnificent--and reminisced about crazy days of yore.

After this, I had nowhere to do but down so I checked my TMZ, then my Facebook. Just once or twice. Holy bananas, Andy Williams passed away, then Johnny Lewis killed his landlady and then fell to his death. Two celebrities expire in 24 hours? The rate of death is speeding up, you wily Mayans. Now I *really* have to watch Sons of Anarchy in earnest before time itself stops.

Oh, and KD Lang is back on the market (I have a girl crush on her voice) and US Weekly is claiming that all is not well in the Jef Holm/Emily Maynard union. How is that possible?

I'll try to be good for the rest of the night, but FB narcissism persists. Someone posted a pic of last night's festivities and I have to see all the comments, tabulate them, giggle over the attention, and then fantasize about superstardom.