Justin Bieber: Making Love Real

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I Have This Strange Feeling I Didn't Post Yet

Oh Hesoos, I didn't!

Tonight I went to see Can Can at the Westchester Broadway Theater. It was quite a pleasant viewing experience because they serve food and you can sprawl across an entire table. In addition, there were enough stalls in the ladies so I wasn't dying after drinking my three bottled waters and coffee. The show is fun, too. Not only did I see my friend do a brilliant job, but my celebrity senses twitched in the middle of the the first act. I smelled something Julia-esque or Julia Adjacent. The guy playing Boris was soooo familiar that I had to shove the program in my face. I am good! Remember the elevator boy in Pretty Woman? The reporter filming himself in the wedding scene in Runaway Bride? His name is Patrick Richwood and he was fantastic on stage. A very nice way to spend an evening.

I'm inching closer to Julia. Can you feel it?

"I'm Crying in My Jello Shots, Y'All!"

Oh, Emily Maynard, what are you doing? Dish used to believe in you and your giant fake teeth! Am I to believe what I'm reading--that your Bachelorette love with Jef Holm is a sham? First you get chosen by Brad Womack and you can't hold him down. Sure, he was a scary rageaholic bar-owner, but you could have had everlasting bliss in Texas, dammit!!! Now Dish is totally writing you off, Engagedthreetimes Maynard. I don't care how darling you are or that Dolly blessed your search for love. I'm going to believe the whispers that you really want $$$ and your own reality show! Arie Shiny-face dodged a bullet!

Just caught the first episode of Scandal and I might never watch it again. It's all about Kerry Washington yelling out orders and giving speeches. Yawn. Bring on the hunkalicious presidential debates!!!

Facebook crisis: I have this Friend, we'll call her Madame X, and I check her profile every few days. Sometimes I comment, though not usually because I already feel like a stalker. We're not really friends, but our paths crossed for a few years and I worship her. She does things I wouldn't dare venture. Every update makes me giddy and when she "likes" my status, it's like having Julia Roberts notice you're alive. So, after my FB fast, I checked to see if she posted anything new and SHE WAS GONE. I wondered if maybe she caught on to my mild stalking because it's all about me. I checked mutual friends lists and she was gone there. Since I've seen so many episodes of Snapped, Deadly Women and Dateline, I frantically checked the web to see if something bad happened. Nothing. I hope she just decided to unplug from the world for a while because that's something I want to do, too, but can't venture right now. Best wishes, Madame X, wherever you are.

Just Call Me Algernon!!!

My fast couldn't last forever, right? For 72 hours, Dish was coherent, going back to her brainiac and 50s housewife ways with ironing, reading heady literature and grooving on the To Do list. I blame Sylvester Stallone!

Okay, Dr. Phils, it's my own fault. I rented Daylight so that I could investigate Sacha Stallone's acting. He's better than his dad, but the whole movie sucks serious ass. Of course, struggling writer Amy Brenneman is going to live in a grungy New York apartment with cockroaches. Of course, because she's poor, she's going to have long frizzy hair and wear floral dresses. Of course, she keeps getting rejection letters just as thugs hang out near her door, looking for a chance to B&E because she's a victim and secretly pretty. Thank goodness she has 5 locks on that door (but no bars on the windows). Hmmmm, as she drives toward the Lincoln Tunnel, ya think she's going to encounter adventure? 

Then I went to a reading of my high school friend's fantastic book in the West Village. I even wore heels, a rarity since I like to be able to run away fast. I'm reading Pema Chodron and she encourages you to run toward the hairy dragon instead of away. A flock of us girls gabbed the night away--someone mentioned someone seeing Uma Thuman's actual breasts and we agreed they are magnificent--and reminisced about crazy days of yore.

After this, I had nowhere to do but down so I checked my TMZ, then my Facebook. Just once or twice. Holy bananas, Andy Williams passed away, then Johnny Lewis killed his landlady and then fell to his death. Two celebrities expire in 24 hours? The rate of death is speeding up, you wily Mayans. Now I *really* have to watch Sons of Anarchy in earnest before time itself stops.

Oh, and KD Lang is back on the market (I have a girl crush on her voice) and US Weekly is claiming that all is not well in the Jef Holm/Emily Maynard union. How is that possible?

I'll try to be good for the rest of the night, but FB narcissism persists. Someone posted a pic of last night's festivities and I have to see all the comments, tabulate them, giggle over the attention, and then fantasize about superstardom.

Facebook Fast: Day Two

The clouds in my head lift a little more today. I take all my vitamins, even though I think they're bullshit. Instead of losing myself in Angry Birds, I stare into the subway car window, wondering why Mitt Romney's got a fake tan. Does he not see he forgot the eyes? Is Mitt that in love with Snooki? Did he wear a Speedo and where are the pictures? Oh wait, no pics please.

I'm obsessed with politics now. Luckily, TG wanted to watch Piers again tonight. With Ahmadinejad (you're so impressed I can still spell his name 24 hours later), Piers acted like a snooty Brit--asking allegedly probing questions but really, predictable and often disrespectful. I don't care if you're interviewing the Tasmanian Devil, you are respectful. With Bill Clinton, Piers practically gives him penis washes. In therapy, instead of discussing my ennui--because that's all it ever is--we dish on Ahmadinejad, how he likes to be provocative--starts out with nice-nice-peace-peace before unleashing the crazy. It reminds me of post-partum Britney. I'm sure Therapist made the same connection.

Speaking of celebs, TG has just discovered Gangnam Style. Our worlds have changed. Learning the dance is so much better than tracking the latest divorce between Plastic Face and Douchebag. Psy and TG are like-minded. My husband will master this dance. The key is catching it on my iPad.


More proof that Facebook fasting improves your life: I've accepted spontaneous invitations for this week. I know! Dish is never spontaneous. My outings are well planned with potential roadblocks sanitized and processed. Basically, it takes a village. Once I'm at the village, I'm great. Getting there is my hell and that of everyone around me. So, tomorrow night, yeah, I'm doing something. And I might not back out at the last minute! This weekend was free...until today when I thought, sure, what the hell, I'll get into a crowded car, travel, interact with others and do something that will support someone else. WTF?

No Facebook/Tabloids = Shocking Productivity

I wondered where the hell my brain went these last few years. Why was I not getting anything done? It's all Facebook and TMZ's fault. I adore them both to pieces, but I need a break. There is too much information.

So yesterday, on my Yom Kippuresque fast, I did laundry, read a few projects, made the bed, edited some grueling pages, answered many emails, listened to an inspiring self-hypnosis tape, bought new sponges, started a Pema Chodron book, ordered yarn, and basically kicked some ass.

Will repeat this today.

I also filled my mind with intellectual things: like I looked up "Coptic Christian" so that I could be up to date on the latest international crisis. I also learned a lot about Gonorrhea (esp. how to spell it) and that there's a new superbug strain that is resistant to drugs. Thanks, The New Yorker! Did you know Gonorrhea was given such an awesome-sounding name because the pus discharged was mistaken to be semen? Literally, it's "seed flow." I bet those scientists are embarrassed!

TG and I watched Piers Morgan's interview with Ahmadinejad. For the first forty-five minutes, the little king seemed reasonable with love/peace to everyone, let's not get into each other's butts when there's a conflict, sure a single woman can ski in Iran, blah di blah. Around 9:45, the crazy came out, i.e. questioning the holocaust, gays are bad, etc...It's sad this little pocket ruler with the sparkling eyes spews such weirdness (and sugar-coated hate).

My one brush with the stars was reading that Katie Couric was bulimic in college. I don't get making yourself barf. Anorexia seems so much easier. I was anorexic for a week when I was 15, living on 500 calories and running 5 miles a day. I then discovered all the ingredients for a delicious Dagwood sandwich in my mother's fridge. I've had periods where I'm so stressed I can't eat and always feel sick. I'm sure it's something close to anorexia. Food intake is the only thing I can control. My cure is usually delicious ice cream and chocolate.

Dish is going on a FB and news diet!

I know, I know. This happens a couple times a year and it never lasts long. I get so frustrated by my hours in front of a screen, looking at nonsense ("...but nonsense it all is."--name that quote). I keep refreshing my screen and it's awful. I can't hold a thought in my head and nothing gets done.

My last star thing is that the Emmys were incredibly boring last night and Sofia Vergara was robbed. Jimmie Kimmel was a terrible host. I like his talk show, think he's funny but you need an upbeat and sparkly host--like Ellen, Hugh Jackman, Billy Crystal. On a better note, most of what I picked WON!

This is a shameless plug for Homeland. It really is the best show on TV, debuting on Sunday. I'd even say it's better than Breaking Bad, which is perched over the great white but not quite over it. I was elated to see Aaron Paul win and plant a giant smooch on Guancarlo Esposito, one of the greatest actors alive. There's Dexter also coming though it definitely jumped the shark during the Julia Stiles season. Maybe this one will be better. Who was the chick with Dexter in the audience? I thought he was back together with Jennifer Carpenter. Ugh. See what I mean?

Once I'm done with my TV diet, I'm going to pick up my Sons of Anarchy obsession.

Star Sighting--John Larroquette!!!

4:32pm on the Uptown 1 train, wearing a white t-shirt and sunglasses, spotted by Dishbrother. "He looked like a schlump yet somehow put together." We categorized Larroquette as one of those guys, like Bill Maher: kinda gross yet perversely sexy, as in we can't tear our eyes from them. Night Court rules!

Green Day's Billie Joe Armstrong is in rehab after losing his marbles at a concert. Dish wonders...which substance did him in? Was he acting like an American Idiot?

Look both ways before crossing: Amanda Bynes is now in NYC--as is Lindsay Lohan. I don't feel safe. Will carry my treasured copies of  What a Girl Wants and The Parent Trap to indicate my fandom. Would never ever film either girl running over my foot.

Because I'm me: Yes, I'm taking a vacation to go to John Taylor's NYC book signing for: In the Pleasure Groove: Life, Death and Duran Duran. Here's a question: What time do I arrive at the event? Ideally, an hour before it starts, but have feeling it will be mobbed. Even so, I can't be bothered with camping out. I've read that some are going to do this. I love John Taylor. I love myself more. What would you do, dear reader?