Quick Hits

Kirstey Alley was on Oprah to inform us that she's fat. Kirstey's ankles started swelling on Cheers twenty years ago and I'm trying to hold back my shock over this latest pronouncement. Oprah's fat (though I am loving her straight long hair), Kirstey's fat. It kills me how the usual suspects pop up every couple years to remind us of their existence. Stop thinking about your fat. We only care if you're anorexic.

Thank you, Joe Biden, for scaring me sheissless. No flying, no subways, no boning up on American history. He did say he was a rabble-rouser, so he can't help the diarrhea of the mouth. Sometimes the diarrhea is severe, consisting of uncontrollable squirting. Can you imagine NYC not using the subways? The city would shut down. Though, Dish would gladly stay home and get fat like Kirstey. It's something to aspire to.

Tyra Banks's stalker was found guilty. If you've watched that episode of Will & Grace where Jack stalks Kevin Bacon, she is lucky to have a stalker much less a crappy talk show.

Nice gesture of the day: Hugh Jackman buys his fans breakfast. What a cuddly, cute Wolverine he is. Hugh seems like an affable sweetheart. If the swine flu weren't running rampant, I'd go see Wolverine (and secretly lust over Liev Schreiber *sniff*). Go, Hugh. I want you to rule the world.

Dish is turning over a new leaf--doing yoga, running twice as much, wearing contact lenses, and making an effort with hair. Constantly thinking: 74 hours until Desperate Housewives.

Chocolate = Love

It's okay, I've got Godiva now. My box of eight truffles arrived, now half gone. My hips are spreading like a California wildfire but, screw it, I had a mammogram today and my rack was inconvenienced for 5 minutes.

Today, I have to address Ricky Gervais's latest comedy DVD, the one where he wears a crown and cape. Regarding RG, I must quote Annette Bening from The American President as said to Michael Douglas, "I am in love with you. I'm sure of it." He's short, chubby and with girlfriend, but he tickles my funny bone. Well, he looks a little like my grandmother, so I won't go into the Oedipal implications. Like Bill Murray, I generally never laugh in comedies unless surrounded by people (just for show). I appreciate humor and Ricky delights me. My one complaint: the DVD is a little over an hour. Kathy Griffin did two hours of comedy without a breath in between. Perhaps this was edited down?

Exactly 96 hours until Gale Harold returns to Desperate Housewives.

Dish's Overactor of the Year

Goes to Zeljko Ivanek, on Damages. He drawls like a mint julep drinking, porch swinging cute as a bug's eye lawyer from the South. And I thought James Carville was irritating in his own loveable way. On the Glenn Close Show (because everyone else is boring), Dish can smell the acting stinkiness like a wet cat fart. While he must be a nice person, I'm calling him on overly ponderous scenery chewing. Please don't hate me, I felt this way during Pillowman on Broadway, though perhaps it was because I was wearing Jeff-Goldblum-rose-colored glasses. A tall man is the key to Dish's heart.

In other news, Sarah Jessica Parker and Matthew Broderick are having twin girls via surrogate. I thought they were history but maybe twins will keep their love alive (cause it won't be sex). Thusly the SS Parker-Brod keeps tooting along this wavy ocean called life. Oh hell, I know nothing about these people. Blessings on them both.

Special shout-out to Dishmama who urges me to be less gloomy. So here goes with Dish Cheer: sunflowers greeting the morning, kittens licking their paws, chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream, babies in flower pots, Bo the First Dog shitting in the Rose Garden.

Vacation's All I Ever Wanted

It's nice to take a few days off. Yes, I'm going stir crazy, mostly from work and staring at these four walls. I tried to count how many times Dr. Phil said "panties" on today's show about the Craigslist Killer. Am I a prude or is "panties" totally improper and not an official term? The more he said it, the more I wanted to see the visuals he had in his head. Panties.

After running 3.5 miles, weights, cleaning, salvaging 2 sundresses from my Salvation Army pile, and buying leggings (I have to do everything Lindsay Lohan does, except drink and date stringy girls, which leaves nothing except the leggings), I'm done. Maybe I could start Season 5 of QAF and skip to the Cyndi Lauper episode. The big excitement of the day: a friend might have seen Parker Posey today but he gave me no details. Panties.

Huh?

How did Beyonce's movie Obsessed place #1 at the box office? It looks like ass.

Liberty Ride

Today marks a sad one-year anniversary but I'm burying myself in QAF (and finding out if Jennifer Aniston and Sharon Stone have had recent plastic surgery or botox), where Brian does the Liberty Ride on one testicle, a bloken clavicle, and plenty of gumption. I love the line, "Your prophecies of doom only incite me more." Who else but Brian Kinney could say this?

My thoughts for the weekend--I've unlocked Twilight's popularity. How great is it that even if you're sulky, depressed, and mediocre, everyone wants you. Bella isn't exactly vivacious yet teen boys fall at her feet, not to mention hot vampires. Both her parents adore her and a dangerous vampire tracker singles her out--above everyone else--to kill. What woman doesn't want to be singled out? In there, too, is the popular romantic rape fantasy, where the hero can't stop himself from sinking his teeth into her flesh. Edward often professes fear that he can't stop and she doesn't run screaming in the other direction. Thank god, he does stop because otherwise this special girl would be a dead duck and we really need another mopey teenager in the world. Just in the nick of time, he saves her at least three times, which allows her to basically lie there before prom (I say, just lie there with beer and condoms on a mattress in a van DURING prom). The story also makes statuatory rape and pedophilia acceptable since a 108-year-old vampire can have sex with a 17-year-old girl. Or at least make out a little.

Despite this, I wouldn't mind a savior "teenage" vampire. I've done worse.

Thank You For Being a Friend

Dish celebrates the life of Bea Arthur and blessings on her coming and going. Maude, The Golden Girls, Mame, what wasn't there to love about this tall, boozy-voiced broad? It's shocking that she's now gone.

You know when you do something that you know will open a can of worms but do it anyway? Yeah, that's me, though I'm counting on the universe to lead me back to healthy behavior. Am trying to add purpose to my life and reverse my karma by doing as many favors as possible (if you haven't received a hat, booties, baby blankets, house-cleaning, or a scarf, just wait), though this often runs counter to rage at being a pushover. We're all a work in progress.

The celebrity du jour: the Swine Flu. When I heard of a potential pandemic, I immediately thought I might have symptoms. Then again, it's hot out and I ran 3.5 miles. My back aches because I'm not supposed to run and the chills come from the ice mask I placed my eyes to reduce puffiness. Any future queasiness comes from inhaling this afternoon's duck fat, sauerkraut, and sausage -- typical piggy Dish fare. Work in progress.

Happy Birthday...

...to Shirley MacLaine and Barbra Streisand! To celebrate such mighty births, I had to take the day off, though Dish on vacation is much like Dish at work: wake up, feed cat, pray he doesn't barf before I walk out the door, work, eat, work, gym, work, sleep.

I watched Dr. Phil. He married a couple on the show, with Robin dabbing her eyes with her French manicure. Dish might have shed a tear. I'm trying not to watch so many screens, raided Dishmama's refrigerator instead. Eating mother's leftovers is much like ordering take-out and prevents my random purchases of salami and Cheetos. 10 days until Gale Harold's return to Desperate Housewives, secretly rewatching Twilight tomorrow, this time alone so I won't have to laugh jadedly throughout at the silly love-struck teenagers.

Yeah, not so interesting on vacation.