By Pete Kotz
By Michael Musto
By Michael Musto
By Capt. James Van Thach told to Jonathan Wei
By Kera Bolonik
By Michael Musto
By Nick Pinto
By Steve Weinstein
Kindly accept my one bit of movie newsthat an audition notice just popped up in Back Stage for the large-in-every-way role of Effie in the movie version of Dreamgirls. I guess now that they have enough highly paid superstars lined up for the period rhythm-and-bluesical, the key part can go to a fabulous nobody who's not above going on an open call. BOBBI KRISTINA?
The gripes of wrath
And now please remove your shoes and step into the gripe corner, the home of a semi-annual consumer kvetch-athon that will prove deeply cathartic and soul-cleansingfor me, anyway: Carmel car service is the devil! They recently gave me a price quote for a ride I'd told them every detail of, and the driver even confirmed the amount before I got into the car, but once we were moving, that all strangely changed. The dispatcher promptly called in to inform me that the actual price was gonnas be 10 bucks more than I'd been told! Could you scream? (Yeah, but you couldn't get out.)
Carmel really should be renamed Car-smell. I know that's not very witty, but I'm a little on edge. End of gripe corner. Suck my gleaming tower of pizza. Please.
At CUCKOO CLUBthe idyllic Sunday-night gay bash on the Maritime's terracecute waiters take an hour to bring you the wrong drink and you couldn't care less because, as I believe I mentioned, they're rather attractive. Last time around, TORI SPELLING was heard asking the shirtless one with a chest more ribbed than my favorite socks, "Do you work out?" (which is like asking the pope, "Pray much?") "Say no!" RICHIE RICH urged the stud. "It's much hotter!"
In another corner, Scissor Sisters' JAKE SHEARS was gushing about the inherent sweetness of The Aristocrats. (It's fucking true. The comics' journey into unbelievable extremes of obscene silliness is even more poignant than the march of the penguins.) By the way, spies say FAYE DUNAWAY is directing some kind of movie and wants Jake's bandmate ANA MATRONIC to appear in it. Fabulous Faye thinks Ana is "creamy."
In unrelated news, mommie dearest MADONNA doesn't find it creamy when her employees get too friendly with each other. Whispers say one such worker found herself axed after marrying one of Maddy's other underlings. She should have said no! It's much hotter!
Speaking of exes, I loved the ex-gay on THE VIEW who cited relationships with "simblings" as a possible cause for homosexuality. Ex-literate too? And what's with those cagey bus shelter ads for Kaletra, which urge you to ask your doctor about it, while not even hinting at what it might be. Well, silence equals death, honey, because it turns out it's a protease inhibitor! My guess is if you don't have AIDS, you probably shouldn't ask for it.
There are so many desperate gossip rags decorating your local newsstand that the second JENNIFER ANISTON spilled her guts to Vanity Fair, they all lined up up with tongues out to mooch their own second-hand covers off the VF exclusive. "Jen Speaks Out!" blared In Touch magazine. Yeah, but not to them. "Jen Breaks Her Silence!" screeched People magazine. Yeah, to someone else. "Jen Tells All," crowed Us Weekly. Yep, to a much better magazine. Of course now that I've written about this, it's celebrity journalism about celebrity journalism about celebrity journalism, and really boring.
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