Recently in Celebrity Junk Category
When it comes to celebrity stalking, I like to think I'm quite the expert, but compared to my friend IndianJones, I'm clearly just a novice. Take for instance his encounter last night with Battlestar Galactica's chief hottie, Tricia Helfer.
Full glorious story (replete with fanboy-tastic lingo such as "skinjob") after the jump...
Seeing one celebrity at the gym is always cause for minor celebration. Seeing two is even better. And seeing both of them making out with each other just elevates the entire scene. That's precisely what happened today as my boring old fitness routine was interrupted by the presence of acclaimed footballer Reggie Bush and his amateur videographer girlfriend, Kim Kardashian. Oh, the celebrity spotting gods were surely looking down on me today.
Here's what happened...
Call me a luddite, but sometimes I simply don't get men's high fashion. Take, for example, this strange piece profiled in The New York Times. It's from Alexander McQueen, and while I appreciate that it's more of an avant garde look aimed at influencing the market more than dominating it, I still can't help thinking that most men wouldn't be caught dead in what amounts to be a feathered, pseudo-sequined tube top. Or would they?
After the jump, some artistic projections on who might adopt the new look.
Right on the heels of Heidi Montag's gleefully absurd trainwreck, "Fashion," another dubiously talented poptart, Vanessa Hudgens of High School Musical fame, has released a similarly sartorial track titled, "Sneakernight." In terms of production values and general quality, this ode to dancing and sneakers is a significant improvement over the latest Speidi project, but it still leaves a lot to be desired. Plus, I fear that I'm going to be hearing the line "Basically what we're gonna do is dance" in my head all night, if only because Ms. Hudgens repeats it over and over and over again ad nauseam.
To her credit, the chronically flat Vanessa Hudgens manages to hit about three notes, which is a pleasant improvement over her previous work (anyone who's ever had to endure her ear-piercing duets in the High School Musical movies knows what I'm talking about). Still, in a strange twist, Vanessa has somehow injected her voice with a sort of pseudo-sassy-soul growl, whose authenticity feels somewhat questionable. Not saying she lipsynched... buuuuuut, well, I don't know how this could be the same girl who sang the relentlessly awful dirge "When There Was Me and You."
All in all, with the arrival of this video and Heidi Montag's latest, today might have to mark a veritable nadir for the music industry, this blog, and perhaps the world in general. On the other hand, Zac Efron totally has two new songs for his iPod, girrrrrl!
A clip of Vanessa strutting her atonal stuff in "When There Was Me and You" after the jump...
The Daytime Emmys were held last night, and while I didn't watch the festivities, I certainly checked out Yahoo's photo galleries, and needless to say, there are several intriguing pics on display. After the jump, my five favorite shots of the night.
It was Beyoncé's fault.
What's that old saying? You get what you pay for? Something like that. Well, epic complainer / Connect Four aficionado Kanye West finally discovered what it was like to be at the brunt of a hissy fit this weekend as thousands of fans at the Bonnaroo festival turned on the talented, if volatile rapper. West, who took to the stage at 4:30 AM (hours after his initial 8:15 PM start time, which was then rescheduled to 2:45 AM), discovered that fans don't necessarily like waiting around for a glow-in-the-dark prima dona, no matter how celebrated he is. The angry crowd happily booed Kanye and chanted "Kanye sucks!" over and over again.
As for Kanye, he not only ignored the haters, but he didn't even acknowledge the fact that he took the stage so late. Not once did he apologize to the fans, further angering the sleep-deprived masses. Sounds like one big colossal mess. And that's why I don't go to music festivals.
Kanye West's Fans Don't Care About Late People [A Socialite's Life]
Leave it to Heidi and Spencer to upstage the most jaw-dropping photo of the week.
For more Speidi escapades in the Magic Kingdom, check out photos of them and their surprisingly wide array of Disney headware at A Socialite's Life.
Arnold Schwarzenegger has been many things — championship bodybuilder, box office superstar, governor of California — and now we can add "A woman named Joyce" to the list. No, he's not a tranny by any means, but his midsection is starting to look a bit estrogen-tastic. Had I seen only a cut-out of his torso, I might have thought he was a plucky sixty-something woman on the way to the supermarket, possibly to get a bottle of Febreeze, which she surely would have purchased with a coupon.
Or maybe that's just me.
I probably shouldn't poke too much fun. The guy could crush me to a pulp — both with muscles AND legislation. (Rimshot!)
Behold the Tyra Banks school of facial dexterity. You can just barely hear her scolding an ingenue for doing "this" [goofy smile, fluttering eyelids] and not "this" [pursed lips, narrow eyes]. To Tyra's credit though, only she could pull off this silly collection of smiles with such a gigantic mane of hair.
For more insights into the world of Tyra, be sure to read the New York Times Magazine article here.
UPDATE: For an amazing video of Tyra showing off her smiles, click here. (Only the first two minutes pertain to smiling, the rest is just Tyra-talk)
Last night, as Elisha Cuthbert was exiting venerable Beverly Hills eatery Mr. Chow's, a guy fell over and gashed his head. The plucky 24 star was ever so kind to help him up, but that didn't stop her and her positively DISMAYED friend from sharing a joint look of shock, confusion, and repulsion. And really, isn't that all we want from a paparazzi photo? Kinda my favorite pic of the week right now.
Via Socialite's Life
It's not even 11:15 AM, and already two viral video gems have surfaced today. The first was a phenomenal Muppet mash-up. The second is this gloriously loopy clip of Sharon Stone explaining the karmic intricacies of the recent earthquake tragedies in China. Word to the wise: don't ever treat her GOOD friends unkindly. You never know what sort of natural disaster might come your way...
Just over two months ago, I did something that I never thought I'd do: I hung out with Speidi. That's right, I spent a morning intermingling with Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt, stars/villains of MTV's hit show, The Hills. Needless to say, it was quite the momentous occasion, especially since it landed me on TMZ for the first time ever. These were extraordinary new heights for me, and the brief taste of the tabloid life was thoroughly intoxicating; although, I was happy to return (er, remain) in anonymity when it was over.
Anyway, I posted some of the pics that surfaced from that eventful morning, but I wasn't really able to talk about the backstory until now. Behold, the TELL ALL post that will shock the internet!
Oh the joys of Europe. I could be half a world away from Los Angeles, and yet I still somehow manage to have celebrity stories to tell. This latest one comes from the Czech Republic, which I visited about a week ago. As avid readers of this blog know, I was "on holiday" with my family last week, and one of the cities we stayed in was the ever beautiful Prague. The city was great, and I was especially thrilled one afternoon when I returned to my hotel and found several paparazzi lurking around the exterior like sharks coming to feed. What could this be? Was there a celebrity in our midst? I could only hope so! The whole sordid tale after the jump...
Hello. Celine Dion here.
Celine Dion really is hilarious. I respect what she's doing in this video (charity and whatnot), but I can't help simultaneously laughing at her voice, which sounds something like a Québécois version of one of those computerized Mac voices. Each time I hear her say "the most... heartbreaking... staTISTic," I let out a small chortle.
Last week, Kelly Ripa posted a celebrity playlist on iTunes which was supposed to serve as a sort of soundtrack to the perfect dinner party. She writes, "I have a blast on my show, but my favorite place to entertain is in my kitchen. There's just nothing like the perfect dinner party. And whether I'm making dinner for friends, family, or the guys from work, the best side dish is a good soundtrack. Well, my roasted garlic asparagus is pretty good too, but trust me, these songs are a really close second. I hope they'll make your dinner party even more amazing, from the first doorbell to the last kiss goodnight."
Sounds promising enough... until you realize that nearly every song on her playlist is so damn depressing that you'll just want to hurl yourself out of a window at the very thought of them. I'm not saying the songs are bad, but stringing them together to score a dinner party seems, well, AWFUL. Seriously, it's a minor feat that Kelly's guests have survived her soirées without wanting to slit their wrists by the night's end.
Earlier today, I was looking at a picture of Abigail Breslin on Best Week Ever, and for some reason, her face struck me as being particularly Juliette Binoche-ish. I couldn't help wondering if it was just me, or if their faces were truly interchangeable. I busted out the Photoshop, and ten minutes later, I had the bizarre results.
Photos after the jump:
Thanks to some extra gig I did three years ago as a lark (opening credits of Monday Night Football, thank you very much), I've somehow wound up on a casting director's mailing list. I would take myself off, but the little gems that pop up in my inbox every few months are worth the spam. Take for instance this casting call to be Paris Hilton's new best friend. Sluts and gays, get your head shots ready!
Do you long to strut into the world's most elite hotspots without a care in the world except how fabulous you are? Ever wish the velvet ropes didn't exclude you from the social circles of the A-List? How about the fantasy of jet setting around the world with the ultimate BFF, whose fierce style, charisma and star power is only matched by your own.
Now that's hot! MTV is giving the opportunity of a lifetime to one girl or “fabulous” guy who has what it takes to become Paris Hilton's new BFF. Finally, you have the chance to show the world that you have what it takes to achieve social stardom; allowing you unprecedented access to young Hollywood as never before. Loves It!
It's sort of funny that last night's Top Chef episode featured a taco challenge because I've spent the past week in a veritable taco-haze, eating those little nuggets of Mexican joy with reckless abandon. In fact, I'm in such a taco fever that I did the unthinkable: I tried to make some at home. The results were mixed.
Pictures of this grand culinary adventure, as well as some other Mexican-themed goodness, after the jump...
Two days ago, my boring old trip to the frozen yogurt shop was made considerably more amusing and bizarre with the sudden appearance of a dairy-hoarding, jalopy-driving Faye Dunaway. The entire experience was so strange that I couldn't help but to blog all about it. Then again, I blog about lint I find in my belly button; so I suppose it's not so surprising that I immediately ran back to my keyboard to detail the event. But I digress (as usual).
Well, I returned to the fateful yogurt shop tonight after a spicy Thai dinner mandated the sort of cold relief that only a healthy serving of frozen yogurt (or ice cream, really) could provide. Little did I realize that my return to Angelina Yogurt would yield another star sighting with equally noteworthy behavior. Of course, I use the term "star" in its loosest possible way. I'm talking about a reality star, and a long since forgotten one at that. But hey, a name is a name, and even if she was just a normal person, her etiquette deserved to be broadcast to the world anyway.
I had quite the celebrity sighting yesterday. It wasn't so excellent because of the star wattage — although, that was pretty cool — but more for the bizarre randomness of the entire event. I'll explain.
It was about 7 PM, and my friend Jash and I decided to stop in at Angelina's Frozen Yogurt, one of the few fro-yo spots in Los Angeles that I can tolerate (mostly because it's not overpriced and, more importantly, they serve flavors beyond just plain and green tea. I mean, seriously, what is up with the flavor nazis? But I digress). Anyway, as we walked into this humble shop of icy dairy goodness, I noticed an old woman off to the side receiving what appeared to be a lifetime's supply of frozen yogurt. She seriously had so much, I thought she might be on some strange, geriatric office run. The whole thing was kind of bizarre, and I just figured she was an old coot doing some typically old coot-ish thing.
Well, I stood by the registers and waited to place my order, but of course, the server was busy tending to Miss Haversham in the corner. I looked over again, but before I saw the woman's face, I was distracted by her ever growing collection of yogurt. She had ordered pretty much the largest size you can get, which I think was about a quart. Now, most people when they get a quart of ice cream or frozen yogurt, they usually put a lid on it and bring it home to devour over the course of a few days. This woman, however, was going to eat the whole damn thing. I could tell because the server continued to pour frozen yogurt into the container way after it had reached appropriate lid-containment levels. Yes, there was a full on fro-yo swirl at the top of this gargantuan load, but I merely shrugged it off. I've seen crazier things in L.A.. And besides, if this woman wants to stuff her face with fro-yo, all the power to her. There are some days when I wish I could be just like her.
Anyway, the server finally came over to me, and after I placed my not-so-healthy order (regular sized Belgian chocolate with peanut butter cup topping. Heh.), I glanced back at the dairy-lovin' lady for no real reason. I don' t know why I did it. Maybe it was curiosity, or maybe it was because she was hovering generally in the peanut butter cup region. Whatever the reason, for the first time, I actually saw her face, and something suddenly clicked in me. I was staring at a legend.
Fiona Shackleton before and after encountering Heather Mills.
Yesterday, when Heather Mills absconded with nearly $50 million of Paul McCartney's money, she did so with utmost class and dignity. And then she dumped a glass of water on his lawyer. Yes, Fiona Shackleton, barrister to the stars, found her puffy, carefully attended coif suddenly matted down under the harsh deluge of Ms. Mills's liquid wrath, and while I'm sure there were gasps aplenty to be had, at the end of the day, I think Madame Shackleton looks all the foxier. Gone is that matronly sense of disapproval that weighed her face down like a thousand raisin scones. In its place is a young, new Fiona, ready hop on a plane at Heathrow and fly to St. Tropez for the latest Diddy white party. I know it must have been embarrassing for you, Fi-Fi, but rest assured, Paris Hilton best be watching her back now. Grrrrrowl!
In an exciting twist, I wound up in a paparazzi photo yesterday. But you'll never guess with whom...
Kind of NSFW
Oops. Jane Fonda accidentally dropped the C-word on The Today Show this morning — as in C U Next Today Show — a transgression that would certainly make an exec like Jack Donaghy's blood boil. It all happened when Meredith trotted her and Eve Ensler out to discuss the tenth anniversary of The Vagina Monologues. One thing led to another, "vagina" was uttered several times, and as one is wont to do in such situations, the c-word just rolled right out. To be fair, Hanoi Jane didn't use the term in its most vulgar sense. She merely referenced the unsafe-for-TV title of a monologue. Alas, the damage was done, and Meredith Vieira had to later apologize for the offending term. A rousing way to start Valentine's Day, if I do say so myself!
Ha!
I think my favorite part of this clip, aside from the vicious cold cocking, is towards the end when a raging Jesse Metcalfe shouts, "Yo! Yo! VICTOR!" I was really hoping he'd go all Amazing Race on us and yell, "Stop this car, VICTOR, right now!!!" Alas.
What's Super Tuesday without some super thong action to go with it. Here, courtesy of A Socialite's Life are the photos you've been dying for: John Mayer jogging in a Borat-esque, unitard-thong contraption (kind of NSFW, depending on how puritanical your employers are). Also worth checking out is Best Week Ever's coverage of "The Mayercraft Carrier" extravaganza from which these photos sprung forth.
• John Mayer Sports a Borat-Style, Butt-Floss Bathing Suit [A Socialite's Life]
• Best Week Ever's Mayercraft Carrier Coverage [BWE]
Unbelievable as it may be, today marks the four year anniversary of Janet Jackson's notorious nip-slip, a seminal event which ushered in a new (read: ridiculous) movement of media conservatism. Suddenly, practically everything on TV was blurred and bleeped out, evangelical fringe groups were the new taste-makers, and the networks found themselves scrambling to defend benign depictions of teen orgies. (Seriously, they were benign!) On the upside, we did get a nifty new phrase ("wardrobe-malfunction"), and women across the land learned the value of a strategically placed sun ornament on the nipple. So I guess what I'm trying to say is... time flies and radical zealots suck.
Wow, this post certainly turned activisty. I guess that's what happens when I blog on an empty stomach. TO THE KITCHEN I GO!
"I dedicate this song to Elodie. It's called 'Melodie.'"
Just in time for Black History Month, Heidi Montag's brand new single, "Higher," hits stores next week, but of course, since this is the Internet age, it's already been leaked online. US Magazine debuted the track this morning, which is noteworthy as today is not just the day that Heidi's single surfaced, but it's also the birthday of her arch-rival / meal-ticket, LAUREN CONRAD! dunh Dunh DUNH!!!
THE INTRIGUE NEVER ENDS!
For all those curious to hear Heidi's vocal chops, click the link below and then report back your opinions in the comment section here!
• EXCLUSIVE FIRST LISTEN! Heidi Montag's New Single [US Magazine]
"Hands up, utensils down. God, I'm good."
If I were a woman, especially a pale woman with no makeup in an oversized shirt and fat jeans, I wouldn't want to be photographed next to Padma Lakshmi — especially when she's in full-on catwalk mode. Put simply: there's just no way to look good. But alas, that's exactly what happened to this poor lady who found herself accidentally meandering onto Padma's invisible runway. I'm sure the woman's very pleasant looking in real life, but next to all that PadmaGlamour™, well, she's just so PLAIN.
Yes, it's the dreaded umbrella effect of Padma — a phenomenon that increases people's blandness the closer they get to her. Somewhere, Gail Simmons is quietly crying. And eating.
N.E.R.D.H. — No One Ever Really Dances the Hora
Here's a story I think we can all raise a glass of Manischewitz to. Recently, hip-hop singer and über-producer Pharrell stumbled upon an Orthodox Jewish wedding and was so fascinated by the proceedings that he decided to hang-out and watch. The families then invited him to come join the festivities, one thing led to another, and now here we are with pictures of Pharrell doing the hora on TMZ. It's a wonderful world. Not since I got to enjoy an "herbal moment" with Method Man have I been so happy to see a Jewish/hip-hop crossover. I still, however, am waiting for the inevitable Streisand/Soulja Boy collaboration.
(via TMZ)
Which Desperate Housewives husband who was formerly on Melrose Place and whose last name is part of the phrase "idiot-savant" was spotted chowing down at Zeke's Smokehouse with his family and friends — nearly twenty-four hours before his appearance on the Screen Actors Guild Awards? I'll give you a hint: his first name rhymes with "dug."
Mr. Schmug Schmavant was caught red-handed enjoying his barbecued meal in the West Hollywood Gateway, but while the food might have been on-point, the actor's attention to his kids was anything but! Midway through the meal, a horrific crash emanated throughout the eatery as one of his children dropped a porcelain dish onto the floor, shattering it into thousands of pieces. GASP!!! Mr. Might-Be-Tom-Scavo was left with nothing else to do but smile sheepishly at the glaring patrons (a.k.a. my friends and I) and clean up after his kid. Hmmm... Life imitating art? METHINKS YES!
High definition does not treat Miss America well. Take, for example, the sad case of Miss Michigan, who after winning the title of Miss America 2008, was assaulted by kisses from her fellow pageant queens, thus leaving her face a hot mess of lipstick. Of course, no one bothered to wipe any of it off (jealous bitches), and as a result, Miss Michigan made her triumphant march down the runway with red smudges on her cheek, teeth, and hand.
In honor of Miss America's hot messiness, I took some screen shots, but just a warning: a lot of detail was lost in the transition from 42 inch HD image to lowly jpeg. Nevertheless, the best shots after the jump...
"Heeyyy guys. Do you like my dehydrated pumpkin? Me too."
(via Getty Images)
I don't often visibly recoil in my seat when I check out British tabloids, but that's exactly what happened when I stumbled upon this image of Rhydian Roberts, star of the British hit, The X Factor, on holiday with his tantastic aunt Maxine. The contrast is stupefying.
Be warned: application of sunglasses may be required for viewing the uncensored image after the jump...
While Kanye mugs for the camera, Beyoncé waits patiently for two platters of diamonds to materialize in her hands.
According to Kanye West, Beyoncé is apparently a genius with the Connect 4 as she beat the rapper nine times on a recent trip to Vegas. It's not as impressive a feat as, you know, an Oscar win (or nomination), but it's nice to see that Beyoncé now has a new talent in her already extensive repertoire (which includes but is not limited to shimmering in spotlights, strutting into rooms, and nose-diving down staircases).
(P.S. it's time for Kanye to "upgrade upgrade" to a digital cam)
In an ill-advised public relations move, the Ministry of Truth hires Sharon Stone as the new face of totalitarianism.
"And so I walked into Toys 'R' Us, saw Geoffrey the Giraffe, and told the clerk, 'I want that skinned, cleaned, and ON MY HEAD!'"
[Buzz Photo via Best Week Ever]
As has been widely reported, Christian book publisher Thomas Nelson Inc. has announced that in the wake of the Jamie Lynn teen pregnancy scandal, it is indefinitely delaying the publication of Lynne Spears's first book, a memoir that details the highs and lows of raising a family in the spotlight.
Of course, thanks to the wonders of the Internets, we here at B-Side Blog have obtained an exclusive copy of the manuscript in all its much-hyped glory. Excerpts after the jump...
