Mark Burnett and Roma Downey's The Bible Has Made Me Lose Respect for Christianity

You would have thought I'd go atheist when Simon Le Bon came out as a non-believer. His argument made perfect sense to me, but I couldn't quite take the plunge. While I still believe in mystical occurrences (because too much crazy stuff has happened to me), I am not down with the Christian god according to Mark and Roma's new hit miniseries on the Hitler History channel. Disclaimer: My ignorance in the area of religious doctrine is infinite. I only know from a few Easter services and The Ten Commandments. Forgive my blaspheming. I do love the idea of faith.

But still, thank the Holy Whatever for The Bible because I learned so much and decided that this god isn't for me. Lessons from this amazing show:

1. People from yon before are from Great Britain. Surely, 'twas.
2. God committed multiple acts of ethnic cleansing. When he's pissed, he wipes out whole nations and makes people build an ark (hello, vomit train!).
3. The Devil is Obama. I'm sorry, but you can't plead ignorance on this one. The actor doesn't resemble Obama, but Mark and Roma MADE HIM LOOK LIKE OBAMA. There is no accident here.
4. Eve was hot and so was Jesus. Please, important historical figures can't be hideous.
5. For all period pieces before, say, 700 AD, please act as if you're in your church's Christmas pageant.
6. Poor Sarah's womb is all withered and stale so she tells Abraham that he can boink the servant girl. Thanks to God's IVF, Sarah does get preggo. Love triangles are legit.
7. God is bored and needs more adoration so he tells Abraham to kill his son. NICE! But just at the last minute, God says, "Just kidding!" Kill this lamb instead, that's what I really meant.
8. There's something about the Sodomy Village that pisses off God, so he orders an African American, an Asian man schooled in martial arts, and someone else to fight off the bad people. Little glimpse of Obama as this is happening. Like maybe he's involved. Thank heavens, Abraham the Almost Child Killer is spared.
9. Young Moses wore makeup, but he soon grows up to be Gale Harold's seedy uncle! He fights with his childhood enemy Pharaoh, who is still overusing charcoal around the eyes.
10. Pharaoh gives his son a Gameboy, which ensures his silence for the rest of the show. And then he dies.

That's as far as I got. Maybe I need to read the Bible, which might be a purer translation of God's word.

Where Is My Merch, @DuranDuran?

Many months ago, I signed up to be a Gold Member of the Duran Duran fan club. This means I get lots of free sh*t for only 70$. I'm supposed to get a letter from the band, certificate of Duran Duran awesomeness, a Nick Rhodes tongue depressor, Simon's speedo circa 2008, the witchy spell to conjure Roger Taylor's intensity, special John Taylor nose hair plucked from his coke days and laminated, and Dom's new CD. I want this sh*t.

Do I dare pull out the big guns and start obsessing over Spandau Ballet instead?

Oh wait! Apologies. Forgot that Mercury has been in Retrograde!

Happy Birthday, Simon Le Bon!

How could I spend even one minute out of the last 24 hours thinking of anything other than Simon Le Bon's 54th birthday?

Happy Birthday, Charlie Shakespeare von Itch! One of my favorite divas on earth.

My Last Duran Duran Concert

Not everything is rosy when it comes to Dish and Duran Duran. My love is tied up in adolescent angst, many shitty albums, abandonment issues with Roger and John, who left the band and almost didn't come back. Dizzying solo projects, untapped movie/book potential. Simon's beard bothers me because it's so obviously hiding middle-aged jowls. He looks like Shakespeare. Nick's brooches resemble the ones I wore circa 1985 but I let it slide because he's so artsy and a trendsetter. My love isn't blind. Okay, I guess I wouldn't change a thing about them.

By choice, I ditched mountains of work and hundreds of dollars to trek out to Foxwoods yesterday. It's a given that Duran Duran is a bright spot, but something made me cry as I left last night's concert. Maybe because they didn't play Rio.

Then it occurred to me: I'm having an existential crisis, which makes sense since I've been reading so much Sartre. These were my desperate thoughts:

I've been a fan for 30 years. I'm too old/too much of a fan to keep getting nosebleed seats. I've never flown First Class either. That really sucks.

The two women next to me were drunk and loud. One of them fell on me. She was a cow.

I always dread the moment when Simon Le Bon picks up a guitar and pretends to strum during Save a Prayer. I hate that song. I hate fake guitar playing. Stop it, Simon.

I didn't have enough space to dance. I didn't know what to do with my hands, so I felt awkward.

They played 17 songs. I knew they were stuck in traffic on the way to Foxwoods, but Dish would never cut it off at 17. What they did play was awesome.

Before the show, I met people who hung out with the band on a regular basis. They were in the very front row, lapping up band-sweat. I was green with envy. I wish I could have tagged along with them, but I was the outsider. Maybe if I'd been pushier...Oh well, I sort of wanted to just go to bed after the show.

If this is so painful, how could I possibly attend John Taylor's book signing on 10/16? I probably wouldn't even get in the door.

It made me sad to realize that I'd need to spend more $$$ on VIP packages, be at death's door or freakishly win some deal from a radio show ever to meet them. Or I'd need to know someone and they'd have to follow through (which usually never happens). I could stake out their hotel in NYC, but I'm not a loser. It must be my choice to be meet-less thirty years later.

This didn't make me feel better. Here's what did:

I left the concert, mascara running, a woman suddenly barfing in front of me, and realized I hit the jackpot when I met TG. He is a real person and gives me joy at every moment (except when he drives in parking garages). He is there at the end. He won 35$ at the slots and got a free Hard Rock Cafe glass -- which is his equivalent to seeing Duran Duran.

A couple years from now, when the closest place they play is Wallingford, Connecticut, I think I will just stay home (unless I win something).

Simon Le Bon Is My Long Lost Brother!

For those who know Dish personally and have met Dishbrother, watch this and just try to convince me that Simon is NOT the spitting image of my brother. Here's how I think it went:

Simon was born in 1958 (an appropriate time before Dishbrother). I doubt very much that Dishmama was involved because she's too young and too virtuous to birth the lead singer of Duran Duran without telling me. So I'll venture that some errant, wicked things occurred on the paternal side -- though this is reaching since they also find pure driven snow to be pornographic.

Evidence:

Dishbrother and I love England and British literature!

As we all know, Simon descended from the French Huguenots, hence the Le Bon BS. I like to think of Huguenots as the Hugue-pleasedo's! The positive outlook is a hallmark of Duran Duran's music--much like Dish's sunny point of view.

Simon Le Bon's lyrics derived from many bong hits? are much like the crazy, secret language--French--Dishbrother and I speak when we want to gossip in front of people.

Big blue eyes, a Dish/Dishbrother/Dishbiologicalfather trademark, are very Le Bon-esque. The French mostly have huge, hypnotic eyes that make you stay out all night drinking. Dishbrother and I have the same effect on people -- though I've been told I drive people to drink and Dishbrother himself enjoys the occasional spirit, but whatever, it's a family affair.

All of this is to say I don't know what a Huguenot is.

Are you convinced?

(It goes without saying that Dishbrother is far better looking and looks way younger than Simon)

Happy Duran Duran Appreciation Day

Today is the official appreciation day for Duran Duran, though Dish feels this should be a daily event. I greet the dawn with Simon's quirky lyrics filling my head "with chopstick." By mid-morning, my sense of Nick Rhodes aesthetic kicks in. I notice architecture, the ripple in my coffee, well-rounded nostrils. At noon, I Tweet my every move to the masses, just like John Taylor. Tea-time is quiet, like Roger Taylor--well, except for my drumming on the coffee table while watching reruns of Sex and the City. By night I prepare again for my New Religion by rocking out like the unofficial but no less precious member of Duran Duran: the indubitable Dominic Brown. To all this, let's say Amen.

So...my mother has a wild crush on heartily enjoyed the star of Jersey Boys, John Lloyd Young, who dazzled us last night. She raved how impressed she was with his sparkling brown eyes vocal range and could we go see the show again? Tee hee. I bet she's obsessively watching Youtube videos of Jersey Boys right this second to enhance her knowledge of music history. Hurray! This means I might see the show again! Dish is beyond barking-batsh*t-obsessed with the music of Jersey Boys. John Lloyd Young was pure magic.

Rumors that smells like bullcrap: 1. Brangelina getting married this weekend in France? I dunno. This smells old to me. 2. That X-Files costars Gillian Anderson and David Duchovny are doing the XXX, which is the fervent wish of diehard fans (and greatest heartbreak of Disholdestfriend).

Patriarch Joe Simpson was busted for DUI. LOL! Frowny face.

A Diamond in the Mind Is a Girl's Best Friend

If you even mildly like Duran Duran, you will enjoy their latest concert DVD, A Diamond in the Mind, which had a special Facebook premiere this afternoon (TG was so excited!!!). The boys always give good video. You can buy it here. Just remember, you haven't lived until you've seen Simon Le Bon sing "White Lines" in his glittery shirt. Nick Rhodes rocks a diamond brooch like no one else. The "live" Q&A after was a little snoresville since you could only hear them and they sounded suspiciously like my late grandparents.

Dish watched the last bit of Wimbledon where Roger Federer proved once again that beauty and robotic engineering win out over scrappy Scotland. Can't wait for US Open and shots of icy Anna Wintour and aroused Gavin Rossdale in the stands.

Justin Bieber filed a complaint about a nasty pap, which was why he was speeding down the highway. I don't care. He is dead to me since his reference to the "the Sixteenth Chapel" on Letterman.

Barney Frank married his long-time partner and Sienna Miller popped out a baby. Shazam!

Celebrities in the bathroom: I try not to imagine the stars on the can. For some, I can't help myself: John Goodman, Jenny McCarthy, Judd Hirsch, Fergie...but this weekend, another name was added to my list: George Clooney. Isn't that terrible? He and his lady love got food poisoning in Italy, which only means the middle-aged hunk was perched over a toilet, perhaps with projectiles coming from both ends. I'm seeing her sitting in the bidet while he's on the can and spewing into the bathtub. Let's hope someone was there to remove all evidence of the horror.

Breathing the Same Oxygen as You Know Who

Damn you, Nick Rhodes. You're probably strolling by Chelsea art galleries as we speak. I live so close to Barney's Co-op, I could just camp out in the hopes that famous pop stars might need to load up on Kiehl's or 400$ t-shirts. It kills me to think the boys are HERE in NYC. Simon's beard is collecting flotsam and jetsam, covering my favorite diva's fluffy jowls. Then there's John Taylor. Ditching the vices of yesteryear, John is juice detoxing (he Tweets EVERYTHING). From what I know about detoxing, it involves multiple visits to the bathroom and that's too real for me. Dom and Roger are probably sitting somewhere being quiet. Where is Dish? Going about the business, as usual, because I'm not a big freak. Deep down, though, I'm standing near their hotel*, hoping for a peek.

If I have to acknowledge other stars, here you go: That dastardly Gisele might be preggo again. This causes the cosmos to heave majestic beauty hormones so violently, you might have felt a shower of glitter and laughter (saying you're not as sexy as I am, hahahahha!!!). There go my intestines, rumbling sympathetically with John Taylor's spastic colon. Kim revealed to Oprah that her marriage wasn't a sham. This sounds like the most boring interview ever. What else would she say? In sadder news, Ozzy Osbourne's son, Jack, just announced that he has MS. Poor guy. Sending him healing vibes.

Lastly, a virtual high-five to Ronan Farrow, an impressive fellow, who recently decimated his father Woody Allen on Twitter: "Happy father's day -- or as they call it in my family, happy brother-in-law's day." I'm so down with him on vengeance against dads who are sh*ts. Ronan Forever!

*I know which one!

Losing 10 Pounds Has Made Me Crazy (er)!

I stepped on the scale this morning and realized I'd lost 10 pounds since April -- when I upped my running regime to 20 miles per week. For some reason, my appetite has left the building, and while I'm ready for TV again, I feel like crap. Dish is not meant to be this thin. Will force myself to chow down. The body wants what it wants. My Pussycat Doll performance will have to wait.

Even though he dissed our segment, I can't help falling in love with Anderson Cooper as he shreds Amanda Bynes over her Tweet to the Prez. A Dish-source once dealt with her and said she was super-mean. Too bad because What a Girl Wants is one of my favorite movies. Love Kelly Preston too...

The big drama is the alleged confrontation between former lovers Taylor Swift and John Mayer. Years ago, she wrote a song dissing him. He was probably a douchey BF (and not even a BF) and, as Simon Le Bon sings in Arcadia's Meet El Presidente "Hell hath no fury like a young girl's ego...". Years later Mayer said her song was mean and bs. A day later they are at the same restaurant and it was like oh my god and in your face. Yeah, I don't believe a word.

Dish has written many vengeance pieces but only one will see the light of day. Maybe.

In the Pleasure Groove: Love, Death and Duran Duran

You're a thief, John Taylor. This was the title of MY autobiography and now that's f*cked. How could you extract my creative property and use it as your own? Le Bon did this repeatedly with lyrics such as "shake up the picture, the lizard mixture" and "my head is full of chopstick, I don't like it." Okay, maybe I'll let someone AGAIN have priority over my brilliant words, I guess. Officially and seriously, yes, the above is the title of Duran Duran bassist object of Dish fantasies 1983-1984, 1986-1989 John Taylor's autobiography coming out in September/October. A pleasure indeed for Dish and all Duran-aholics! Is it possible to pre-order six months in advance? I'll buy a hardcover and won't even declare it as a tax write-off.

Oh god. I didn't even think that there might be author signings. Room spinning.

*ka-thud*

Big Divorce in the City

This is another sign of the apocalypse, though not totally unexpected. Upon hearing about writer Candace Bushnell's marriage to ballet dancer Charles Askegard, I did a happy dance. When the unlikeliest people get hitched, it makes one feel that love can happen at any time anywhere with anyone. They had a great run and now they've parted ways in rousing pirouettes off stage left. A Dishfriend once saw them together at an event and he was quite the adoring husband and she loved it. RIP to their union. Her novels are like candy to me.

Have you been checking out the scandal over socialite/magazine goddess Devorah Rose getting dissed by Salman Rushdie? It seems very high school, especially since they didn't even boink. She's hurt by his nice-knowing-you-but-I-gotta-jet email, though didn't want to get in his pants anyway, and he's mortified to be associated with her in the first place and said so publicly and she gave a big interview about it in The Post and now it's The Diss that Won't Die. As Simon Le Bone so aptly sings in Arcadia's "Meet El Presidente" Hell hath no fury like a young girl's ego. I always agree with Simon.

Trick or Treat: Kim Kardashian Filing for Divorce

OMG--and they said it wouldn't last. Can you see how this will prolong the reality show? Jackasses! How casually these brainless boobs treat the sanctity of marriage, though I feel bad for Kris Humphries. He's looked like a deer in headlights from Day 1. So many questions: Will she give back the ring? What about the gifts? Will Kim wind up doing a tearful interview with Baba Wawa? Poor Kim totally upstaged Jessica Simpson who was upstaged 15 years ago by Britney who announced she was preggo.

Even sicker is this picture of Courtney Stodden and Doug Hutchison dressed as her. They must have the freakiest sex life. This is a Lifetime movie about to erupt. I fear someone will die.

DishFriendwithConnections just showed me recent pics of her with Duran Duran after a concert. I've seen many of these over the years. My future is clear: One day, Dishmama will come home, "Oh I just met this lovely Nick Rhodes at Bergdorf's and we marveled at an emerald tulle cape." Or Dishbrother, "Roger Taylor came in to have his forearms massaged." or DishMatronofHonor: "I met Simon at a drumming ceremony last week. That boy can howl at the moon." Dish will die with Bucket List unresolved. There was an episode of South Park that dealt with this issue but I won't go that far.

Happy Birthday, Simon Le Bon!!!

And he was in Page Six today, rocking his Kenneth-Branagh-Much-Ado beard. Dish had to Google the Standard Hotel, shameful given close residency to this fine establishment. Dishcolleague, who also went to the MSG concert on Tuesday, sat five feet in front of the Le Bons and Taylors. She confirmed a well-known fact: That Yasmin Le Bon is still the most beautiful woman on Earth.

Another talented beauty and Renaissance woman Rita Wilson not only produces films but will be releasing an album in February 2012. Let's hope this Hollywood housewife (though she's way more than that) CAN sing. I will get it the minute it comes out because I've liked her since Bonfire of the Vanities, one of the world's suckiest movies that I still love to watch. Because it's all cyclical: one of its stars Bruce Willis and his wife Emma Heming have a baby on the way.

Eternal jackass and no shining example of fatherhood Michael Lohan was released from jail only to harass his ex again and get busted fleeing from police. Some people just belong behind bars. Landfill.

So Close to the Stage!

This is what happens when old cell phones take pictures. We were very close to the Almighty Simon. I didn't hyperventilate once and the key is Don't Look Back (because All You Need Is Now) at the crush of people. Indeed, we were in embedded in Duranmania but I kept breathing and singing and dancing. DishfellowDuraniefriend accompanied me, which made all the difference. There's nothing like sharing an obsession with someone who understands. Mark Ronson and Ana Matronic (goddess) guest-starred. A heavenly two hours overall. I went into the concert sick as a dog and emerged cured. Simon's sparkly pants were out of this world, as was Nick's bejeweled brooch.

First Steven Tyler fell in the shower and knocked out his front teeth. I dig. Showers are slippery when wet. That's why Dish puts down a mat for traction. But Steven's story didn't end there. In an update, the slip in the shower was blamed on food poisoning. This qualifier makes me suspicious. If you have food poisoning, why go in the shower since the heat can make you wither further? If you want to hose down a shit-puke perfect storm, I suggest a cold shower administered by a caring assistant. I tend to stay in bed for 7 days before trying to move. I anticipate the next plot point in this story will be: Slipped in the shower because of food poisoning due to exhaustion.

Amy Winehouse's official cause of death: too much booze.

Go See Duran Duran, If You Can

Behold this sh*tty picture, taken by Dish. The blob in the middle is a Simon/John/Dom roast beef sandwich. We got our pic taken by DD's FB team. Then Dish's "Nice butt, Nick" tweet showed up on the Jumbotron during Tiger Tiger. Our seats faced Nick Rhodes's ass so what else could I tweet? Simon's voice has never sounded better. Whatever witch doctor he visited while resting his vocal cords cured him. It was a visual orgy of flashing lights, video clips, triumphant guitars, drums and keyboard--and my new favorite person, Chastity Ashley, on percussion. That Gingie's hair swung to and fro as she wildly got into the music. We had a blast--well, I did. TG tolerated it and admitted they were "show men." Best songs: Before the Rain, Safe, The Reflex, Blame the Machines, Leave a Light On, View to a Kill. Oh hell...it was all good. And I get to see them again in a week!

Serious News: Giuliana Rancik has announced she has early stage breast cancer. This seems too much as she and her husband have faced much heartbreak in trying to conceive a child with no luck. They need some good news.

Here's great news! Steven Seagal has been ordained as a border sheriff in Texas so he'll be pushing back those illegals--Seagal-style.

Susan Sarandon called the pope a Nazi. A gray area and a bit much as far as comments go. Can't we leave Germany alone? I'm not saying forgive/forget but just chill and stop the hyperbole.

Oh...

...and 4 days remain until Dish and TG see Duran Duran in concert in D.C. I can't think too much about it otherwise I'll get nervous, but I can watch videos. Here's "Lonely in Your Nightmare": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rGdLNbIc2ZA&feature=relmfu. My 14 y.o. heart thought, OMG, they are so into other cultures and how sweet that Simon wants to care for a woman writhing on a bed.

Beatle Marries

Paul McCartney got hitched to Nancy Shevell. She's hot with that awesome long, straight hair. Quick poll: How long do you take to get ready in the morning? Is under 20 minutes acceptable? Happy marriage to these two. What is Heather Mills doing to cope?

TG and high-powered lawyer brother taunted me with the following absurd lie that even more absurdly I believed for 30 seconds: that b-i-l was helping John Taylor invest in some lucrative project, that JT was the "finance brain" of Duran Duran. A-holes!

Does Simon look a little like William Shakespeare in the following well captured concert song by audience member: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0WDFhlPOM0k&list=FLgKF76xPBOTIX6LFpyz2cwA&index=2. This song makes me weep. You know, if I had a beard, it would hide my donuts and fraps. I've gained a pound for every year I've been in NYC (14)--though I came to the city a stick. Frightened for my health, DM stuck burgers in my face. I started eating them.

Mikey Welsh of Weezer from 1998-2001 was found dead--another OD. :(

Let's end with something happy: Shirley MacLaine to receive AFI Lifetime Achievement Award. Way to go, Shirl! Love her madly.

Reflexive Duran Duran Nightmares

The stars I love most plagued my psyche. I dreamed that a blond Meg Ryan type was hired to sing lead (where was Simon?) for Duran Duran during their current tour. I was nice to her, helped her out with NYC info. She had a suspect older man/husband lying on the crappy hotel bed, managing her career. When she had to rehearse, I tried hard not to push my agenda. Dish has a longstanding policy of being polite to celebs in person*, listening but not asking for anything, this due in part to effort in maintaining upright stance. Sadly, as Meg was leaving, I couldn't help saying, "Please tell the band that meeting them is the only thing on my Bucket List." True, yet an embarrassing slip. These awful dreams were interspersed with real Dish waking to read The Help, which is amazing. I'm somehow feeling related to the maids not daring to ask for more and doing covert things to inch closer to success and vindication. The mind is so complicated. I'm not a black maid from the 1960s but a privileged white woman who's had everything and is lucky/happy in personal life without needing three jobs to support the family (I only have 2). Despite this, I still have mild psychological and, occasionally, circumstantial turmoil. Dish is spending the day with some nonfiction.

Inside Job: Very compelling--even if you flunked Economics 101 at Oberlin College--with excellent narration by Matt Damon. Dish learned all about derivatives and deregulation and what f*ckers the banks are. Might be switching to less corrupt institutions. Know of any?

Rumor has it the McCartney marriage is happening this weekend. And in dirt: If online rags are to be believed, Liev Schreiber was caught cheating but maybe it's all BS to promote a movie coming out. It's been a while since we've seen his brilliance. More pictures of LeAnn Rimes being superskinny surface. Dish has examined the photos, the musculature and *knows* you have to work really hard to be that thin and toned, especially when you've had some chubbage in the past. As long as she *feels* good. The body is a temple.

On that note, I'm going to take these nightmares for a walk.

*ex: I hid from Anderson Cooper, figured he was busy and didn't care, but TG chatted him up like a pro and got pictures. Then there was the time Wil Arnett walked by us in front of Whole Foods. I hid behind a nearby bush as TG screamed at him, "Hey Wil! I love your work!"

Busted, Booked, and Back to Normal!

What is up with the ne'er-do-wells? Samantha Ronson arrested for DUI (Doesn't she look happy?). Redmond O'Neal arrested for heroin and pot possession. I should be arrested for the number of nail polishes I own and never use. I wonder what Lindsay Lohan thinks about all this...

The most important news yet is that 80s supermodel Linda Evangelista--known mostly to Dish for dating Kyle MacLaughlin who looks exactly like her--wants 46G a month in child support from Salma Hayek's Gingie Husband Babydaddy. What would I do with that kind of money? I'D GO SEE DURAN DURAN ON TOUR THIS FALL! Trying to decide if I should go to multiple dates: Philly, Atlantic City, D.C. and NYC. Have never done that. Voice of reason: I have other responsibilities. But is it every day that my heroes tour? And how could I deprive TG of the joy of seeing them live? Will Simon's voice last?

Oh yeah, and Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords (not Kathy Griffin, TG) cast her vote in the whole debt wall-to-wall glass houses ceiling bill. This, in fact, is the best feat of all. Bravo, Gabs!

The Bachelorette, Ashley Hebert (castoff dental student from The Bachelor) has waded through her issues and decided she wasn't too career focused and has chosen her man: http://abc.go.com/watch/the-bachelorette/SH5556990/VD55137383/week-10-part-1. See the episode because I sure won't. After The Bachelor heartbreak, I can invest in another couple.

We Duranies Will Still Be Here When Duran Duran Is Ready To Tour!

I'm a little blue with TG out of town and me not supposed to gorge on those chocolate covered graham crackers from Starbucks. At the supermarket, I wandered past the cupcakes and thought, I'll grab a quick one. Not this time, Dish. More somber thoughts ensued...until the supermarket radio announcer said, "Duran Duran has canceled their summer tour because of lead singer Simon Le Bon's ongoing vocal problems..." Dammit, it was the Universe telling me other people--Simon--are suffering way more. Their album just came out. International dates were set. How frustrating for them and FOR THE WORLD that they can't tour. Dish can refuse the brownie with ice cream, hot fudge and almond slivers. I'll eat heinous celery in solidarity. Or maybe fried chicken.

Something else important happened today. Atlantis went up in space. I don't understand why it's The Final Journey. Is there new space technology that doesn't require a rocket?

I treadmilled a little longer to witness the landing of Will and Kate in California. The plane approached, stopped, blocks put under wheels, steps came down...and then that Damn John King interrupted with a real news show.

Last item: Rebecca Gayheart--PREGS! Last I saw her, she was on Vanished with Gale Harold (whose birthday is Sunday). Today, eat some heinous celery to honor Anjelica Huston's day of birth!