Barry Manilow at Radio City Tonight!

There are no words, except FANILOWS UNITE! I'm trying to contain my excitement because it feels as if I'm cheating on Duran Duran. I love Barry! I hope his hip replacement work tonight. I'm ready to sing and dance and revel in being 13 again.

Khloe and Lamar are ending their show after the second season. Doesn't that sound so reasonable? Reality shows should come with a time limit. Real life takes priority. I'm going to try to watch less reality TV, though all will go to hell when The Bachelorette returns with Emily Maynard.

If it weren't for Barry, I'd say it's a Monday:

My browser seems to be flooded once again with LeAnn Rimes bikini shots. She used to be a SINGER. What happened? It's as if she went from having a career to being Mrs. Eddie Cibrian, as if that's a step up.

Some fallout from the Kimmel Correspondents' Dinner speech. Keith Olbermann zinged JK for his cracks. Why are my feelings so mixed? Keith is just so yicky, polarizing, but he is entertaining as sh*t. It's hard for me to imagine him not on TV and, yet, his diva ways make it so. Perhaps he could take over Khloe and Lamar's time slot. Keith Kardashian.

Comedy Central at The White House Correspondents Dinner

Dish spent too much time hooked on mundane moments at the White House Correspondents Dinner. Stiff people standing and greeting each other. But TG was making Pad Thai and what could I do? Read Balzac? Please. (tho I do love the Balz--esp Père Goriot)

The excitement began at 10-ish with Obama's roast. Prezzie seemed at ease, though am I the only one who thought "the delicious pitbull" pun was an odd cunnilingus joke? Michelle looked positively baffled and a little horrified. Lots of dog-eating in his speech, though Dish is down with off-color jokes to break the ice. Then came Kimmel who seemed very nervous. He did a lovely job, had some jokes that made TG howl (one of my fave sights) along with some stinkers. Seal of Approval, JK.

You knew there would be slams against Lindsay and Kim and, despite this, these gals both looked beautiful. I will say this about the Kardashians: They are all great sports. They laugh along with the jokes and never seem miffed -- a good lesson for us all. I've done my own criticizing of these two. It's so easy. I don't think enough about how hard it must be for them to receive constant negativity.

No, I can't give up criticism entirely. Then I'd be Gen-Y and expect praise for extracting a large booger from my nose.

"I Have a Little Bit of a Temper"

Am I brain damaged or was the Mel Gibson interview on the Tonight Show really strange, disturbing, yet a smidgeon reasonable? It sort of was like Real Housewives in that it involved a group of unlikeable people, venting publicly. Eszterhas seems to loathe women, as does Gibson, they fought, and Jay, well, he has no filter. I guess I never warmed to him after Johnny Carson left, and the Conan fiasco was truly barbaric. He seems to smile away the bad stuff, like when Hugh Grant got caught with the prostitute and he had that "What were you thinking?" line. And yet, despite the insanity, I can't bring myself to throw away my Lethal Weapon DVDs. Luckily, Conspiracy Theory has Julia, thus is a keeper for life.

Lindsay Lohan and Kim Kardashian are at the White House Correspondents Dinner, guests of Fox News. There will be jokes, made by more liberal media (anything is more liberal than Fox!), which will backfire. We've heard enough about these two.

Buffy is preggo with baby #2.

Thank you to Nick Rhodes for his liberal use of eye makeup these last 29 years. I had an errand to run, my face was wan from too much indoor time. I thought of Nick and took out my black eyeliner. It gave me a boost.

Blogger Psychology

I went to this women's blogging seminar and the girl in front of me--dark hair, 25ish, big black glasses, well put-together--turned around and asked me what I did. I responded that I loved celebrities--really loved them--and tried to be nice. She said, "You can't be nice. No one wants to read that..." then whirled around in her seat.

Oh yeah? Well, I don't care, girly. Okay, maybe it's more complicated than that. I have mean thoughts, sure. But, ask anyone, I really am obsessed with stars I see as awesome. I can't stop thinking about them. They are my CO2, the release I need after a long day.

I've been thinking of the blogger's thought pattern, especially after reading the exchange between a blogger on thegloss.com and Evan Marriott, Joe Millionaire from a thousand years ago. The initial post is mean, and EM responded eloquently*. The blog changed its mind about Evan--all is forgiven. I might have done the same thing if a star confronted me on a mean item I'd written. After bullying in the headlines and a confrontation with Jennifer Aniston, Perez Hilton changed his tone from mean to nicer. There isn't the funny edge anymore but he might sleep better.

The idea of curtailing freedom of speech saddens me. Some super-funny critics nail it (thank you, Anthony Lane and David Denby of the New Yorker), but generally, the culture of blogging and critiquing has become nastier. It's "honest" to be mean, right? I hear people on the street yelling into their phones lines I heard on Real Housewives the night before. The pointing of the finger is everywhere. But who doesn't like a good zinger? When they come in a flood, a sassy four-eyed brunette can transform into a bottom-feeder, bold enough to criticize an elder for wanting to be nice.

At the gym, I watched fifteen minutes of Mob Wives and started to hyperventilate from the cattiness. I had to run home to my sanctuary.

Those my deep yet unresolved thoughts of the day. Time for an afternoon scotch.

*Except he needs a lesson in using a comma of direct address--a Dish pet peeve

Shame and Bethenny Frankel

What a long week. I don't know about you but it seemed to drag on forever. Maybe I shouldn't have spent three hours unraveling a big knot in a skein of silk yarn (thanks, Dishcousin, for the kerchief pattern!) or tried to convince TG to watch Bridesmaids or Bridget Jones. He is obstinate in not watching but every six months, he'll give in to one piece of crap.

To commemorate the institution of marriage, I watched Bethenny Ever After. The woman scared me on The Real Housewives of New York City, like her arguments with the other women were frightening. But she's far more sedate and funny with her own show. How strange and different that women aren't fighting all the time on a reality show--which makes me wonder if Andy Cohen is actually Satan. I found myself desperately wanting to hang out with B-Frank after two episodes. I'd learn so much. And who knew Hoda was such a delight!

Then, after rampant buzz, Charlize Theron's flirtatious crack about Michael Fassbender's wang and Dishfriend's ooh-lala-ing of him, I had to watch Shame. I'm only 30 minutes through and it's quite good. Thoughtful, hard to watch (no pun intended), moving. Fans of full frontal will enjoy, but for Dish the novelty wears off when you see how "overused" the characters are. M-Fass and Carrie Mulligan are so talented. What I love most is how the flick captures the unrelenting loneliness of life in Manhattan. I highly recommend...so far, especially if you love deeply depressing movies, which I do!

The Conversation with Amanda de Cadenet: 2

I watched it. I loved it. Screw critics. Dish has been thirsting for "you go, girlfriend" content, ergo the Ally McBeal and Sex and the City marathon, and AdC provided.

I now count Jane Fonda, Sarah Silverman, Zoe Saldana and Gwyneth Paltrow as my besties.

And Amanda, I've forgiven for stealing my man twenty years ago. She's lovely, except for the interrupting. It only bothered me with Jane. You don't finish Jane's sentence. But I'm humbled by these women's stories and AdC's candor.

Bravo.

Are You Going to Watch The Conversation with Amanda de Cadenet?

Tonight on Lifetime. It's supposed to be a frank show where stars reveals juicy tidbits about their lives. And who better to host than my former nemesis, the woman I've tried to erase from my mind since I was 23, Amanda de Cadenet. She is a triple threat: blonde, gorgeous and British.

I like a good show featuring women, though am curious that it might be too canned. Maybe the stars will give us a little nugget with a cute smirk, then back to revealing a better version of their public selves. Except for Sarah Silverman and I'll watch for her and it's hard not to stare at AdC's flawless prettiness. I applaud AdC for having a different and specific kind of show. Who wouldn't want to be provocative yet coy and sit next to AdC, who is truly glam?

My only real beef is that on the show, AdC alleges she married Duran Duran's John Taylor at 16, but Dish remembers another version. Picture it: Dishbiologicalfather's house. Yellow kitchen. Dish is temping at a place that builds rockets in a suburb of Cleveland (there is nothing sadder), home for vacation. On the news came the thunderbolt that severed my heartstrings. Not only did John Taylor marry someone other than me but someone younger (4 years younger, not 7). This meant that when I was 14, bemoaning being too young for him, it was all for naught.

Oh God, why am I arguing with myself? I can't fight the system or the lure of glossy stars talking "candidly" with one of the most gorgeous model/personality/actress/photographers on Earth. But first, might rewatch ludicrous male fantasy flick she was in called Fall, in which she alludes to her flatulence. This evens the score.

Never mind all of the above. Scandal takes precedence. Or maybe I'll just knit and stare at TG while he reads.

Happy Birthday, Roger Taylor of Duran Duran!!!

Birthday Letter to Roger Taylor,

Over the last 29 years, I haven't paid much attention to you. You're the quiet one, you do your job, you don't appear to destroy hotel rooms or show/tell about a substance abuse problem, you're aging well and you even picked a more sedate life over continuing with your supergroup in the late 80s-early 2004s*. If you're secretly insane, you keep it to yourself.

The truth about my neglect is as follows: When I took the Facebook quiz, "Which Duran Duran Member Are You", it came out that I was YOU. The moment was very Heathcliff/ Catherine-esque but without the angsty romance and foggy moors. I remember where I was, in my office, the natural sun shining through the window and me smack dab in the middle of Main Street, Realityville. It all made sense. My oversight, my lack of constant praise (you know, Le Bon probably needs it more) for the gift that you are to the world was a minor form of self-loathing. Today I rejoice because I am Roger Taylor. And it's my birthday.

While Duran Duran continued after you left, it wasn't the same. You are an essential piece of the puzzle, the subtle/sublime/poker faced drum-twirl in "Girls on Film" that adds necessary oomph to a moment.

Happy 5__th birthday, you silent rogue!

Eating cake in your/my honor,
Dish

*For which I forgave you but only after several years and not fully. Can one ever truly forgive oneself?