Star Sighting

4:30 p.m. crossing Park Place and Broadway: Mark Margolis with his shirt unbuttoned so that I catch some chest action as I make my way home. He always plays an abuser and molester, most recently in Gone Baby Gone. What a nice way to end my day and I adore him (but not in a "do me" kind of way even with lure of his cleavage).

Date Night

There is nothing sadder than watching Under Siege on a Saturday night--except watching Under Siege in Spanish!!!

Which is exactly what I'm not doing...

Hags in Hell

Dish knew Madons and Guy Ritchie would split eventually. He's too bleh (though probably genius). Madonna's got several million watts of erg in her little pinkie. More power to her as she glosses over any trauma with a new world tour and Timberlake in her back pocket. Just as Morgan Freeman says to Renee Zellwinkle in Nurse Betty, she doesn't need the guys (at least not legally).

My over-forty-scorned-female sympathies go out to Heather Locklear who is now in rehab for anxiety and depression. Life can just blow, especially if you were tabloidally linked to David Spade (he funny on SNL tho and stint as a hotthrob in Lost & Found hilarious!). Would that her peak is still to come after brilliant times as a bitch on Dynasty and Melrose Place. I see the rise of a new Morgan Fairchild once she's regained her footing...

Hags rule!

Sugar Daddy Caine

Dish's new favorite movie moment: Michael Caine explaining what the term "Camel toe" means in The Weather Man. That MC is a dirty, dirty daddy. My ultimate fantasy: for MC to act in the lowest form of entertainment--aside from being directed by Steven Seagal: a douche commercial. He'd still be brilliant.

As for The Weather Man, the flick is overcast, but Michael delivers his usual stunning performance, eclipsing the cliched theme of middle-aged-man-who-just-can't-hack-it-and-needs-a-voice-over-so-that-audiences-will-like-his-unlikeable-self.

What is it with screwed up weather people (L.A. Story, Groundhog Day, To Die For)? It's just weather. Oh wait, lighting is striking Dish: sometimes it rains, sometimes it's sunny, sometimes the storm is a'comin'. Life is unreliable. Like the weather! So, if you're a weather person, do something outlandish, like take up archery. That's what Nicholas Cage does so that he can walk around like a freak in the middle of New York. And if you're tired of the angst: watch Sam Champion, who is super fun, perky, and blond, sort of like what Katie Couric used to be.

Donna Forever

Finally. A break from deleting emails urging me to add inches to my penis. Then I get the ads for Viagra and Xanax, which I desperately need. Like many, I enjoy dulling my senses naturally with excessive television (though I clean up cat vomit and knit mohair villages at the same time).

Tonight I'm reminded how much I enjoy Tori Spelling. On 90210, she was consistently warm and never gave up the goods to horny Brian Austin Green until she was ready. Her Lifetime movies have been excellent (Mother, May I Sleep with Danger?) and she was so loveable in Trick. Fame born of fierce nepostism aside, I mostly adore how odd she looks, kind of like Steve Buscemi. I have to watch and support.

Tori & Dean is standard Hollywood couple reality show and I sense fakery, but I'd like to believe.

How I Might Be Like Brad Pitt's Ex-Girlfriend

Once my acupuncturist removed the needles from my belly, ankles and collarbone, she asked me if I knew about cupping. I stifled a giggle. And then realized what she really asked. A picture flashed in my mind of Gwyneth Paltrow with circle-bruises on her back. Gwyneth had experienced cupping.

"If Gwyneth's done it, I have to do it."

That's next week. I forgot to request that she cup me in a highly visible spot. So others will know.

Suggestions:

Never mix Miracle Whip and mustard, thinking that this is a good sauce for pasta. Go out and buy some ranch dressing instead. Oh. Oops. That's giving away a single-girl secret. Also, never think that crushed potato chips are an appropriate topping for said pasta. Lastly: Laughing Cow cheese does not melt well in said pasta.

If a movie lists Ryan Reynolds as a romantic hero, strap on some beer goggles and imagine that he's kissing a boy instead, which is far more appealing and realistic. Dish doesn't believe he's straight, though he could be today's John Ritter. Oh, that's so genius. I did like him in Blade: Trinity.

Watch A Mighty Heart, just to pay homage to the Pearl family. I had a hard time not noticing Angelina's plump lips and curly wig, wanted more character development, but the story reminded me of that shocking month where the world was waiting for news about Danny Pearl. I remembered how sick I felt when the news was released about his death...and how he died. And I wondered about that poor woman, who'd loved him, who carried their baby, and now she was a widow. I don't know how she survived. So sad.

Star Sighting

Spotted at 6:50 p.m. somewhere in Hell's Kitchen, 6/20: Frank Miller reading the paper. Even though I was celebrating Duran Duran bassisto John Taylor's 48th birthday along with the summer solstice, I couldn't help interrupting FM and asking about The Spirit, starring Samuel L. and Eva Mendes and others--due out this Christmas. My most important question: Did he ever throw a big hissy during filming? Yes. And that's all I care about. I love hearing about diva moments and fantasize about the day when I can explode over getting Evian instead of Volvic. Also, he enjoyed Iron Man. A general expression of love by me for Robert Downey, Jr. ensued.

And now, it's time for Jason Priestley's new trashy movie on Lifetime and ironing. This makes me think of Sheila E and her song "The Glamorous Life."