Oh, Daddy, Where Art Thou?!

My biological father's last contact with me was a handshake 2.5 years ago. It's okay. Blocks of ice tend not to be forthcoming unless swizzled with gin and tonic -- a tasty summer treat. So, this is why my WASP-heart kvelled when Michael Lohan -- Daddy of My Dreams -- took a paternity test on TV to prove he's the father of a girl conceived and raised out of wedlock with no financial contribution from him. Once the test was revealed, he went over to give the girl an awkward hug and she said something like, "I only just met you today." At least he tried, Lucky New Lohan!!! She is fortunate that her life will be so much better. Michael is always there with the paparazzi, ready to get you into rehab, as long as he's interviewed extensively about how concerned he is, so concerned he'll throw up on camera! When he has medical procedures, he lets you see the electrodes on his magnificently hairy chest (which all daddies have). Maybe it's concerning that Daddy has a long rap sheet, looks good in orange and behind bars, that he tends to beat the sh*t out of women. His spouses may suffer, but the children don't! Ergo, using the transitive property: I love fame and the stars. I need a daddy (Bon Jovi is busy). Michael Lohan is also my father.

Two other Daddy candidates are now upset with each other. So like, Bobby De Niro met Jay Z at a party and Bobby was, like, I so loooovvvve the lip gloss you're wearing. Thanks, Bobby, let's talk more, I'll show you all my Sephora choices. Bobby called Jay Z but he never answered. Bobby's, like, should I go Lancome or stick with a Nars glow stick? Jay Z was all I'm too busy telling the nannies to change Blue Ivy's nappies. B*tches ran into each other again at a party, and Bobby was pissed, like Mac Red Lipstick pissed, with steam coming out his Noczema. He let his fury show, which made Jay Z all uncomfortable. Beyonce tried to make nice, but Bobby knows Gen-Y manners. Obvs, Jay Z hasn't watched Goodfellas fifty-hundred times, like Dish. Never piss off Bobby who reminds me a lot of the Block of Ice.

Geezer News

Robert De Niro and his wife Grace Hightower gave birth to a divine girl (via surrogate). Let this latest De Niro be intense and ever mindful of making as many pictures as possible, some good, some bad. Mazel Tov, you crazy kids!

Ladies and Sugar T*ts, let the matrimonial race begin. Mel Gibson is official single again. Hubba, hiccup, hubba! I just can't help remembering the precious voicemail he left for his last babymama, "I want you to get over here and BLOW ME NOWWWWW!!!!" Who says romance is dead?

Prince Phillip underwent emergency heart surgery. For the sake of the monarchy, let's hope he recovers soon. Stiff upper lip!

The holiday season means more Jacquie Lawson ecards. They're sort of like The Highline to Dish--don't get the appeal but lots of my friends/colleague think they're fabulous. In our age of immediate gratification, I can't sit still long enough to see the bird create a centerpiece for the Christmas table, then light a crappy candle in the window. Am I on crack?

Long live someecards.com.

Speaking of crack, I'm thoroughly hooked on Breaking Bad. The acting is just ... I have no words. It brings back my years in New Mexico, when in 3/4 neighborhoods, you could count on a someone breaking into your house and stealing all your jewelry. The good old days! Despite this, I'd go back in a heartbeat for the desert beauty. The series doesn't capture the lusciousness of NM, just the seedy part.

Deep Thoughts on the Emmys

Why are award shows so lame? The writers just aren't funny, the stars are acting same-old and the speeches are repetitive. How many times can you hear, "I didn't prepare anything to say. I didn't think I would win." Dish likes scandal and crazy at her awards-- like Meryl Streep saying she needs to do yoga or Jack Nicholson's talking through his butt or, yes, Ricky Gervais who makes the stars/audience tense. I love Jane Lynch. I thought she did a good job as hostess--especially the "why I'm a lesbian" and introducing the cast of Entourage, but the show dragged. Cut Emmytones, SNL dance/song number--make it a 2-hour show.

Highlights: Charlie Sheen was gracious indeed. Some lovely dresses, though Christina Hendricks's boobies are two giant air bags squashed into a dress. I couldn't look at anything else. Rainn Wilson tweeted his rage that Steve Carrell didn't get an Emmy and I'm right with him there. Kathy Griffin--looking great in red--kissed Ryan Seacrest, an abomination.

Dish was on vacation today and, aside from speculating about Jennifer Aniston being preggo or not (wearing big coat does NOT help!), watched Limitless. I still believe--for no reason--that Bradley Cooper tortures small animals (his French is better than mine so must hate him!) but keep giving him a chance. He is competent in this sh*t-fest that is an obvious reference to our current drug culture. It might have been more interesting if Billy Crudup had been cast. Robert De Niro does his usual mentoring and you have to wonder why he's in so many crappy movies. The biggest philosophical question Dish must raise: If we can take a pill to realize our fullest potential, doesn't that mean no contact with others? When you bring the hell that is other people into the mix, that renders us vulnerable and imperfect. OMG, whole point of movie. Brilliance.

That took so much effort. Time for Dancing with the Stars!!!

Blessings on Dolores Hope who passed away at 102.