Read a Book

I adore my gender. We're smarter, prettier, more sensitive and mostly classier (I'm fine with crazier). Then I see huge examples of dumbness and I want to scream. Not to say I wouldn't take celeb money or do my own fame-whoring. I make silly mistakes but why be nasty, stupid and redundant?

First Serena Williams, who is always a bad sport unless she wins, spews venom when someone has the audacity to foot-fault her. Aren't refs supposed to obey the rules of the game? Maybe meanness and brattiness make her a "character" but it makes me not root for her, even if she were playing against a one-legged chipmunk from Mars. Go Venus!

SNL was a repeat last night but the "musical" guest Ciara (Sp?), Puff Daddy Diddy's protegee/girlfriend, sang about "magic" and "sex" and made her sexy body contort into all sorts of sexy moves, ending with a huge spread-eagle on stage. Hmmm, I wondered. What is she selling? And is this J.Lo clone really singing? Does she read? At least Coldplay references French history (though Wikipedia could have been a primary source). Aren't we tired of magic sex and slithery lip-synching female "singers?"

Lastly, there's the hot mess that is Megan Fox and her controversial remarks regarding Michael Bay. First lesson in stardom: don't burn bridges with powerful men, especially when you're young, highly replaceable and look like everyone around you. Be nice. When you're older/wiser, go ahead and unleash hell. You'll get another reputation. I don't blame any woman for being a hard-core bitch but you have to be smart about it. When you're dumb, talent-challenged and ungrateful, it gets old. If Megan wants to be the new Angelina, the least she could do is turn her neuroses onto herself by cutting herself, carrying vials of blood around her neck and, for fun, going lez.

Pre-stardom in 2005, I saw Megan in person at Lombardi's. She's this tiny, beautiful waif who ate pizza the way Jennifer Beals ate lobster in Flashdance. I was with exbf15 and could have cared less about Megan since I stared at stubbly-but-still-cute 90s has-been Brian Austin Green. Later, I Googled her and saw how perfect she looked, how primed for stardom (Dish is a genius and a psychic), but that she would need to move on to a better, more high profile boyfriend. Or learn to stand on her own two feet without a BF and a movie icon. Wouldn't that be unusual?

Rain Delay

Viewing episodes of Dexter is an antidote for feelings of failure. The rain doesn't help. I could have been born a serial killer and what baggage that would be. As is, I carry enough on my back: hair and nail maintenance, work, body regimen, social niceties and secret ambitions. Imagine the checklist for a killer. My hunger for Cheetos and chocolate mousse pie would be replaced by an appetite to sever carotid arteries. By 41, I suppose I'd be used to it. It might feel like home.

Root for the underdog is a rare motto for me as I like winners. But as I see Rafael Nadal slug through this US Open, I realize he is the underdog right now. Even with his abdominal and knee pain, I want to see an all guts match against Federer. I might have peaked in my twenties but everyone loves a comeback. Go Rafa!

So Happy...

My wish has come true. I've been waiting ions for Hugh Hefner (Senor Turkey Gizzard) to get a divorce. I too want to play in the Playboy Mansion (The House of Yeast Infection). Hef and I could read Proust (Mad Libs) together and I could listen to his sweet tales of woe (about his prostate), how hard it is to be so handsome (hard) at 110, the difficulties in caring for (owning) so many women. You'd think Dish would want to roast smores with the soon-to-be-ex Mrs. Hef and stir the cauldron of bitterness. Not this time. Mrs. Ex Hef no longer has a house cause she pissed it away (he sold it out from under her). The $$$ isn't pouring in for her years of marital neglect (suffering Grampa Gray Pubes and the Boobie Balloons). I want to go to the source, no matter how much Purrell I need to use down there.

Dish is strapping on her running shoes and headed to Cali. Another high profile man is available and he's MINE!

Of Course I Remember

Is it a crime for me not to expound on my grief over 9/11 today? The barrage of 9/11 Status Updates on Facebook makes me want to hurl though I understand everyone mourns in their own way and publically. I probably made a poor choice of joyful outbursts about the pumpkin scones at Starbucks. Don't judge: I spend eight hours of most weekdays two blocks from Ground Zero. The tourists are everywhere all year round, especially today. In a minimum of 50% of conversations (5 years ago it would have been 100%), 9/11 is mentioned. My firestation is a block away and I often wonder what they went through on that day. Every year I feel a heavy energy on this day though my direct contact with the falling towers was from 60 blocks away. Unlike many, I survived easily--aside from crippling insomnia which I still have--and all year round, I think of the people who died, who have to go on with unimaginable pain. I don't want to discuss the horrible things I saw from my office window but that doesn't mean I don't remember.

So, I'll be quiet now and just mention that the Le Bons are in the news once again with Simon Le Bon doing an excellent photo spread for James magazine. He's looking mighty skinny and I'd almost venture that he's veering toward the Posh Spice side of things. Eat a Twinkie, Simon. Or at least, a 9/11 commemorative cookie. With all due respect.

RIP to victims and courage to all survivors.

Not Much News But Good Advice Forthwidth

Just when you thought the Le Bons were underachieving--Good ol' Yasmin LeBon is designing les garments! Trust me, you have to buy her creations. Whenever anyone photographs her, she is gorgeously clothed, displaying exquisite taste. She did have the good sense to get knocked up and marry a Duran, after all. Seriously, I saw Yasmin rockin' out in person last May 2008 and she is more beautiful now than 25 years ago. I have the feeling it's natural, too.

It's post-Labor Day and already Dish has had 2 resurfacers: (1 is famous so totally excused). The key to resurfacer survival is not to become a resurfacer yourself. Don't knock on any Unrequited Love Interest or exbf's door, don't Friend them, don't "Like" their Status Update, or casually send them a forward (and claim it was a mistake). This goes for all vampiric acquaintances. Just bear down, keep working and look up only if showered with gifts. Otherwise, it's always better to press that delete button when they write: So...how are you? Living without me? I hope not. But whatever. Can I talk about my new squeeze and borrow some money for the subway? This kind of resurfacing is common over the holidays and resembles a stomach virus: spreads fast, makes you barfy and feverish.

I only write this because I'm terrible at taking my own advice. It's a good reminder for us all. We will get through this together. Delete, delete, delete.

Ellen on American Idol???

So maybe Dish will watch even though losing Paula Abdul is a deep wound. Ellen DeGeneres is a beacon of hope. Everything she touches turns to gold. She was the fabulous choice to represent Cover Girl (brilliant because she's adorable!) and she's funny without using four-letter words. I would love to see her waltz with Simon Cowell. Those two will make it seem as if the other bland-as-my-cooking judges don't exist--though Kara and Randy are excellent reps for the music biz, just zzzzzz. Ellen will spice things up. I couldn't live on Simon alone, though I do find him perversely attractive.

Wear Red More Often

To seem more intelligent, I'm watching Obama's health care speech and I have some deep thoughts:

He's got cojones to take on this issue with media and Repubs lazily kicking and screaming the whole way through. Change is scary, you bloated elephants. Well, hello, change is what's needed! (will get off political soapbox--it's giving me a massive wedgie!) Dish doesn't want to pay 200$ for a pap smear.

Hillary looks fab in red, like a big bowl of cherries. I wish I could hear her speak for she is music to my ears with her straight talking manner and informed content. I enjoy that her huge Red Light District suit makes her stand out in the audience. She can chuck the blue. Pelosi is also wearing red, the little vixen. By contrast, Michelle sports Legally Blond pink. Political fashions are excellent.

I'm getting a lot out of this speech. Rah rah, public option! Where are my snacks? Oh right, Tori Spelling Diet...

Why I Love Rafael Nadal

Not only will he remove his shirt during matches, but when a crazed fan rushes over to give him a hug and kiss, what does Rafa do? He doesn't throw a hissy or brush off the adoration. He smiles. Then he tells the police not to hassle his drooling devotee. This gives Dish hope. If I were to do the same thing, Rafa might have a similar reaction (and I have breasts, though this might not matter?). My corazon wishes for Rafa to win the US Open, yet he's struggling with each match. My brain says Federer. So hard when the heart and mind don't mesh.

Dish is all prettied up again, thanks to JJ and on Day #2 of the new Tori Spelling diet. Dishbrother and I want to be so thin, people think we're ill. Watch Dishmama throw a kniption.

Disclaimer: Don't get the wrong idea about my love for Nadal. I think of him the way a mother does a son. (Yeah, I don't believe it either!)