It's Snarkurday!

Last week a story came out that Steve Harvey doesn’t want his staff speaking to him. He actually sent a memo—that was leaked to the press—suggesting they make an appointment if they needed to speak to him; it read, in part:

“Do not come to my dressing room unless invited ... Do not approach me while I’m in the makeup chair unless I ask to speak with you directly. Do not take offense to the new way of doing business. It is for the good of my personal life and enjoyment.”

Harvey didn’t apologize for the memo, he just claimed it’s “annoying” when people take advantage of his valuable time by talking to him.

Well, now Andy Cohen is playing that tune ... for a laugh. On a recent episode of “Watch What Happens Live” Cohen gave his Instagram followers a tour of his dressing room and showed off his brand-new accessory: a Steve Harvey doorbell that features picture of Harvey with a red nose that reads, “Ring to Enter”:

“This is my dressing room. We made a Steve Harvey doorbell and the Steve Harvey memo. If you open my door expect to be removed! Do not come into my f–king dressing room!'”

Cohen is joking; Harvey thinks he’s something special.

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For a while now we’ve talked Johnny Depp and his crazy spending habits, but all that may change if Depp doesn’t change his behavior.

At one point, Depp was ALLEGEDLY worth $650 million, mostly due to his exorbitant salaries from those endless Pirates of the Caribbean films, and some generous backend deals, but that may be over because he’s not as bankable as he once was, and he’s a lot to handle ... as evidenced by rumors of his behavior on the set of the latest, last, please, Pirates film.

It seems Disney execs are worried that Depp’s personal peccadilloes might impact the marketing of the $230 million-budget film and future of a $3.7 billion franchise. It’s been six years since the last Pirates movie—which earned a billion worldwide—and Depp’s last Disney project, Alice Through the Looking Glass, lost hundreds of millions of dollars for Disney.

So, this one better work or Johnny may find himself out of a pirate job and less likely to drink $35,000 bottles of wine.

Sources close to the production say the entire shoot was a mess, between Johnny’s ALLEGED excessive drinking, the ALLEGED physical fights with now ex-wife Amber Heard and the ALLEGED habitual tardiness on set, which left hundreds of extras waiting for hours on end and dollars being wasted.

Several times, the production staffers raised the matter of Depp’s tardiness with him, both on set and in his trailer, to no avail; so, producers actually placed a staffer in an unmarked car outside Depp’s rental home to call and alert those on-set that the lights had come on in Johnny’s house and he was awake:

“When he got up, he’d turn on the light, and the moment the light went on they’d call the line producer, who would then call the directors: ‘He’s up! He’s getting ready!’”

In addition to his tardiness, Depp also injured himself, slicing open his finger in what was rumored to be a booze-fueled fight with Amber, though the story put out by the studio was that he got it caught in a car door, or caught in a sliding door.

Gosh, it sounds like Disney is still spinning fairy tales in an effort to save their Billion Dollar Baby, but they may have to spin several more if they want to make their money back on a Johnny Depp film.

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Gabourey Sidibe, wanted to buy some glasses at the Chanel store in Chicago, but says she was treated worse than a Julia Roberts Movie Hooker on Rodeo Drive by the staff at the store.

It seems that when Gabby asked about the eyewear, the sales clerk—You work on commission, don’t you? Big mistake; huge—said they didn’t carry optical glasses and referred her to the discount store across the street.

Wait ... there’s a discount store across from Chanel? In what motherf**king universe?

Anyway, instead of wasting her time arguing with snotty Chanel store bigots, Gabby wrote an essay:

“I’d love to pretend she was being polite, and I’m sure she would love to pretend she was polite, but she was actually condescending. … I knew what she was doing. She had decided after a single look at me that I wasn’t there to spend any money ... I suspect it’s because I’m black, but it could also be because I’m fat. Maybe my whole life, every time I thought someone was being racist, they were actually mistreating me because I’m fat. That sucks too. That’s not OK.”

And, following the publication of Sidibe’s essay, Chanel issued an apology, saying:

“We are sorry that she felt unwelcome and offended. We took her words very seriously and immediately investigated to understand what happened, knowing that this is absolutely not in line with the high standards that Chanel wishes to provide to our customers.”

Wow, that’s not really an apology is it? It’s like a yawn-ology; a quick ‘Sorry’ and a ‘We’ll see about it.’

Hey Chanel? Gabby needs eyewear, a Chanel suit, custom-made in size Fabulous and a lifetime supply of No. 5. All on your dime. M’kay?

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Beyoncé never met anyone, or anything, she didn’t want to make a profit from, including her own child. See, she wants to trademark her daughter Blue Ivy Carter’s name, but apparently some wedding planning company with the same name keeps giving her the side-eye and a shake of the head.

And now Blue Ivy event-planning has now moved against Queen Bey for a second time ... the courts sided with owner, Veronica Alexandra, once in 2012, but Beyoncé will not give up—I think she’s looking for coins to pay for that lip work she had last week or something—and so now she has stopped trying to trademark Blue Ivy, and is trying to trademark Blue Ivy Carter in hopes that it’s different enough to make a difference.

Bey supposedly wants to start a whole “Blue Ivy Carter” brand that will include video games and beauty supplies. What? But, Blue Ivy—the wedding planner—says Beyoncé is a liar and just doesn’t want anyone else to use the name. They contend that Beyoncé’s motive for applying for the new trademark is to simply make sure others aren’t able to obtain the name, and not to market products themselves.

Well that sounds about right. I mean, video games and beauty supplies? Howsabout auto parts and lingerie, Bey?

Let it go. Besides, Blue Ivy Carter sounds like a mid-range brand of indoor outdoor carpeting.

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It looks like a New Couple Alert is in order ...

Yup, 67-year-old David Foster and 33-year-old Katharine McPhee were seen on a romantic dinner date at Nobu in Malibu recently and ALLEGEDLY treated fellow diners to some heavy-handed PDA:

“David and Katharine were very intimate during their dinner. David was seen grabbing Katharine’s face and kissing her cheek several times. Katharine was doing the same to David’s face and they were acting as if they were a couple. By the end of the date, Katharine sat on David’s side of the table and cuddled him with a blanket.”

Both these folks get around ... Katharine was recently linked to her Scorpion co-star Elyes Gabel, and before that, while she was married, she was ALLEGEDLY cheating with her also-married Smash director.

David Foster has been married four times—his most recent split was last year from wife Yolanda Foster—and he’s been rumored to have dated Selma Blair and Christie Brinkley.

Yeah, this one sounds like it has a sell-by gate of early June.

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Well, the feud has spilled off TV and into real life, er, “real life”, as several of the “Real Housewives of New York City” are privately complaining that Bravo has a favorite wife in Bethenny Frankel. And it appears that the feud also includes other “reality show stars” from other Bravo shows like “Vanderpump Rules” and “Below Deck.”

Below Deck, really? Isn’t that like the Ugly Stepchild of Bravo reality shows?

Anyway, it all started when Frankel was the only Bravo star—besides former network exec and current on-air host Andy Cohen—invited to Bravo’s parent-company, NBC’s upfront presentation at Radio City Music Hall.

An NBC Universal spokesperson, trying to clear the air, and keep the table-flipping, wig-pulling, champagne tossing to a minimum, says Frankel was there not as a member of the “Real Housewives” cast but to pitch her new show with “Million Dollar Listing’s” Fredrik Eklund, which has the working title of “Keeping it Real Estate With Bethenny and Fredrik.”

But that may not be entirely true, because just last year, NBC invited many Bravo “stars” to the upfronts, like “Housewife” Luann D’Agostino, and “Housewife” Kyle Richards and not really a “Housewife” Kenya Moore, along with castmembers from “The Shahs of Sunset.”

A source—and it might be jailbird Teresa Giudice—says:

“The cast members all want to go to hobnob at the upfronts. They always feel insulted if the networks don’t want to parade them out in front of the advertisers. And another sore spot is if they hear their castmates are invited and they aren’t.”

Bravo isn’t saying a word, and for once, Frankel is also quiet.

And is that a bad thing?

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At this year’s Met Gala there was brouhaha about the self-entitled celebrities who invaded the bathrooms to smoke and dish and made it near-impossible for the self-entitled non-celebrities to use the powder rooms.

So, what does one do if one is, say, JLo?

Well, since Jennifer Lopez doesn’t wait in long lines—unless it’s in the New Boyfriend Pickup line, or the Botox Injections line—she brings bodyguards to block the doors.

See, when JLo had to use the bathroom at the Robin Hood Foundation Benefit this week, four of her security guards closed it down so JLo could have complete privacy.

And so a long line of twitchy ladies, jumped and jiggled and wondered who was inside, and they finally figured out it was JLo when they saw her future next-ex-husband Alex Rodriguez loitering near the door. And once JLo had reapplied, security opened the bathroom to the general public again.

But, JLo and A-Rod, or as I call them, A-Hole, didn’t have security just for pee breaks; nope the team was also there to prevent them from being around regular people.

And regular people everywhere say, Thank you.

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Miley Cyrus, who gave up being Hannah Montana to be a Twerking, tongue-sucking, pot smoking nudist, has now decided to be more like Hannah Montana again because no one is interested in Miley Cyrus any more. And so how does she drum up gossip for her newest, oldest, incarnation? She tells stories that don’t make a lot of sense.

Cyrus—wait, isn’t that her Dad’s name now?—recently announced that her oldest and dearest friend in the world is Katy Perry, and that it started after Perry Katy wrote I Kissed A Girl about Miley. And, not only was the song about Miley, but it also jumpstarted her do whatever it takes to get noticed addiction.

“She’s been a friend of mine for a really long time. We were actually just realizing the other day that next year, we’ll have been friends for 10 years. I think that’s my friend that I’ve known the longest. Which is really, really weird. When [Perry] came out with I Kissed a Girl, I was doing the Hannah Montana movie, and I heard her on the radio. They said, ‘Who did you write that about?’ She said me! I screamed and started freaking out, and then she asked me to go to the VMAs with her. That’s when I started doing my whole VMA controversy. I was like, ‘I’ll go with Katy Perry!’ So that’s how we met and we just stayed friends.” 

Wait. You met after she said she wrote the song about you? So, then, you weren’t the girl she actually kissed and liked it?

Huh? I think all that weed has affected Miley’s memory and storytelling ability and self-importance because Katy Perry herself says the song was about Scarlett Johansson:

“I was with my boyfriend at the time, and I said to him, ‘I’m not going to lie: If Scarlett Johansson walked into the room and wanted to make out with me, I would make out with her. I hope you’re okay with that?'”

To be fair, Miley and Katy have kissed; but it was during Miley’s Look At Me phase, long after the song was written.
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Gabourey Sidibe Is An A**hole ... Or So She Says

I am one of those gay men that actually like women, though, you know, not like that. I like strong powerful women with a voice; women who stand up for themselves, and for others. I like women like my mother, who was open and honest and loving of all her children, even the gay one, and who learned while being married to my Dad for 50+ years until she passed away, that she wasn't defined by her gender. I like women like my sister who was never afraid to stand up for herself, and who, in turn, raised four daughters who feel the same way.

Strong women; powerful women; loving women.

And one of those is actress Gabourey Sidibe, who spoke at this past weekend’s Gloria Awards and Gala, hosted by the Ms. Foundation for Women. The event doubled as a public 80th birthday party for Gloria Steinem and as an award ceremony to honor Marissa Nuncio, director of the Garment Worker Center in LA, and Cathy Raphael, the outgoing chair of the Ms. Foundation board. And there were speeches of all kinds, but one that I read this week was just about the nest ever; it's Gabby Sidibe, on how she came to be Gabby Sidibe, and in her own way:

I'm so excited to be here. Really, really excited. Okay, I'll get to it. Hi. One of the first things people usually ask me is, "Gabourey, how are you so confident?" I hate that. I always wonder if that's the first thing they ask Rihanna when they meet her. "RiRi! How are you so confident?" Nope. No. No. But me? They ask me with that same incredulous disbelief every single time. "You seem so confident! How is that?"

When I was ten years, in the fifth grade, my teacher, Miss Lowe had announced that my class would be having a holiday party right before the Christmas break. She asked if we all could all bring snacks or soda or juice to the class party. She also said we had the option of cooking something, if we like.

I was so excited. I immediately decided that I would make gingerbread cookies, and that everyone would love them. I told my mom my plan, and I asked her for money to go buy the ingredients. She thought I should just buy store-bought cookies, but I told her, "Those cookies didn't have enough love in them!"

I had to make the cookies. So I bought the mix, and I bought cookie cutters in the shape of Christmas trees and bells, and I made a practice batch of cookies that went horribly wrong. Good thing they were a practice batch. They were awful. And then the night before the party, I made another batch of cookies. And they were also awful, but they looked a lot better. I carefully put the cookies in a Ziplock bag, so I could take them to school the next day.

When I got to school that morning, I could not wait until that party. And I was so proud of those cookies, and all the effort I put into making them, I started to think that maybe I wouldn't just be the first woman black President — maybe I would also be a celebrity chef! I mean, why limit myself?

The party was set to take place during the last hour of school, and I waited excitedly for it all day long. Finally, it was party time. My teacher asked what everyone brought, and I proudly announced that I had baked cookies for the class. I think I felt prouder knowing that everyone else just bought stuff. I was the only one who made anything, because clearly, I'm a little more clever than anyone else.

So as the party starts up, I walk around the class, proudly offering cookies to everyone. No one took a cookie. No one. No one except Nicholas, who was the first person I offered one to. But after a few of our other classmates set him straight, he actually caught up with me as I walked around the class, and gave the cookie back.

I walked around the class trying to hand out cookies to my class, until I ended up back at my desk with the same amount of cookies that I started with. I sat at my desk alone, eating those gross gingerbread cookies that took hours to make, all by myself. I put chocolate chips in them, that's why they were gross.

I wasn't surprised. I just forgot for a moment that my entire class hated me. I had zero friends from the fourth grade to the sixth grade. Who the hell was I baking cookies for? I really got so excited to bake that I had forgotten that everyone hated my guts. Why didn't they like me? I was fat, yes. I had darker skin and weird hair, yes. But the truth is, this isn't a story about bulling, or color, or weight. They hated me because... I was an asshole!

Yep. I was a bossy, bossy asshole. See, remember when I said that I thought I was more clever than everyone else? Well, I did! And I told them that — every single day! Those kids couldn't get a word in edgewise, without me cutting them off to remind them that I was smarter, funnier, and all around wittier than them. I was always sarcastic — I called it my birth defect. And let's face it, kids don't get sarcasm. They don't appreciate it. They never knew what I was talking about. And when they would say, "Wait... huh?" I would say, "My God, Alicia, read a book!"

I know. I spoke differently than them, I just did. I sounded more like a Valley Girl than a Brooklyn girl. My classmates always asked me if I was adopted by white people. I'd say, "No. Both my parents went to college." I know that was rude, but I'm still really proud of that.

To be fair, in my neighborhood, not everyone's parents had the opportunity to go to college. Most of my classmates' parents were teens when they had them. My parents had me at age 30. My father was born in Senegal. His father was the mayor of the capital city, Dakar, and my dad often took my brother and I back home with him to visit Africa, while most of my classmates had never stepped out of the Lower East Side.

My mother was a teacher in high school, that's why I went there, but my mom also had a voice, so when I was nine, she quit her teaching job to go sing in the subway. She actually made more money as a singer for tips than she made as a teacher! I know! And she was quickly becoming the underground version of Whitney Houston. She was the strongest, smartest, and most talented person I had ever known. Even today, I don't want to grow up to be anyone as much as I want to grow up to be her. I know!

The point is, I was a snob. I thought I was better than the kids in my class, and I let them know it. That's why they didn't like me. I think the reason I thought so highly of myself all the time was because no one else ever did. I figured out I was smart because my mother would yell at my older brother. She'd say, "Your little sister is going to pass you in school. You're going to get left behind and she's going to graduate before you."

But she never said to me, "You are smart." What she did say was, "You are too fat." I got the message that I wasn't pretty, and I probably wasn't normal, but I was smart! Why wouldn't they just say that? "You're smart." It's actually not that hard. My dad would yell at my brother, "Gabourey does her homework by herself! Why can't you?"

But he never said to me, "Good job." What he did say was, "You need to lose weight so I can be proud of you." I know. So I got made fun of at school, I got made fun of at home too, my older brother hated me, my dad just didn't understand me, and my mom, who had been a fat girl at my age herself, understood me perfectly ... but she berated me because she was so afraid of what she knew was to come for me.

So I never felt safe when I was at home. And my response was always to eat more, because nothing says, "You hurt my feelings. Fuck you!" like eating a delicious cookie. Cookies never hurt me.

"Gabourey, how are you so confident?"

It's not easy. It's hard to get dressed up for award shows and red carpets when I know I will be made fun of because of my weight. There's always a big chance if I wear purple, I will be compared to Barney. If I wear white, a frozen turkey. And if I wear red, that pitcher of Kool-Aid that says, "Oh, yeah!" Twitter will blow up with nasty comments about how the recent earthquake was caused by me running to a hot dog cart or something.  And "Diet or Die?" 

[She gives the finger to that] 

This is what I deal with every time I put on a dress. This is what I deal with every time someone takes a picture of me. Sometimes when I'm being interviewed by a fashion reporter, I can see it in her eyes, "How is she getting away with this? Why is she so confident? How does she deal with that body? Oh my God, I'm going to catch fat!"

What I would say, is my mom moved my brother and I to my aunt's house. Her name is Dorothy Pitman Hughes, she is a feminist, an activist, and a lifelong friend of Gloria Steinem.

Every day, I had to get up and go to school where everyone made fun of me, and I had to go home to where everyone made fun of me. Every day was hard to get going, no matter which direction I went. And on my way out of the house, I found strength. In the morning on the way out to the world, I passed by a portrait of my aunt and Gloria together. Side by side they stood, one with long beautiful hair and one with the most beautiful, round, Afro hair I had ever seen, both with their fists held high in the air. Powerful. Confident. And every day as I would leave the house... I would give that photo a fist right back. And I'd march off into battle.

[She starts crying]

I didn't know that I was being inspired then. On my way home, I'd walk back up those stairs, I'd give that photo the fist again, and continue my march back in for more battle.

[She pulls a tissue from her cleavage and dabs her eyes] 

That's what boobs are for! I didn't know I was being inspired then, but I was. If they could feel like that, maybe I could! I just wanted to look that cool. But it made me feel that strong.

So, okay, we're back in fifth grade, and I just had been rejected by 28 kids in a row. And I was sitting alone at my desk, with an empty Ziplock bag, crumbs in my lap, and I was at this great party that I had waited for all week. I waited all week for this party that I wasn't invited to.

And for some reason I got up, I sat on my desk, and I partied my ass off. I laughed loudly when something funny happened. And when Miss Lowe put on music, I was one of the first ones to get up and dance. I joined the limbo, and ate chips, and drank soda, and I enjoyed myself, even though no one wanted me there. You know why? I told you — I was an asshole! I wanted that party! And what I want trumps what 28 people want me to do, especially when what they want me to do is leave. I had a great time. I did. And if I somehow ruined my classmates' good time, then that's on them.

"How are you so confident?"

"I'm an asshole!"

Okay? It's my good time, and my good life, despite what you think of me. I live my life, because I dare.

I dare to show up when everyone else might hide their faces and hide their bodies in shame.

I show up because I'm an asshole, and I want to have a good time.

And my mother and my father love me. They wanted the best life for me, and they didn't know how to verbalize it. And I get it. I really do.

They were better parents to me than they had themselves. I'm grateful to them, and to my fifth grade class, because if they hadn't made me cry, I wouldn't be able to cry on cue now. 

[Dabs tears] 

If I hadn't been told I was garbage, I wouldn't have learned how to show people I'm talented.

And if everyone had always laughed at my jokes, I wouldn't have figured out how to be so funny.

If they hadn't told me I was ugly, I never would have searched for my beauty.

And if they hadn't tried to break me down, I wouldn't know that I'm unbreakable.

[Dabs tears] 

So when you ask me how I'm so confident, I know what you're really asking me: how could someone like me be confident? Go ask Rihanna, asshole!

Snap.

That’s a role model, just like her mother, her aunt, and Gloria. Like my mother and my sister and most women I know. I wouldn't dare call them assholes, but I get what Gabby means: being yourself, accepting yourself, loving yourself, and recognizing the journey it took to be who you are today.

I think every little girl, and hell, even little boys, should have this story read to them every time they feel different or afraid or fat or skinny or Black or gay; have this story read to them so that they'll know how to survive, that others have done it before them and can light the way for them.

I wish there was a Gabby Sidibe for me when I was growing up, who could have shown me that I was all right, that being gay was a part of me, but didn't define me, or lessen me, or weaken me.

I was smart, too, and I was funny, too, and more than a little bit sarcastic. It's what I did to survive; only I didn't know it until now.

Thanks Gabby, I guess I'm an asshole, too.

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I Ain't One To Gossip, But.................

Neal McDonough is beautiful.

That's why he gets the big pic at the top. Baby blues for days; that Anderson Cooperish silver foxiness.

Well, now comes word that he was replaced in a new ABC drama Scoundrels because he refused to have TV sex with Virginia Madsen, his costar.
Apparently, McDonough, who formerly played crazy on Desperate Housewives and lawyer on Boomtown balked when it came time to fake-make passionate love with Madsen because it conflicted with his deeply-held Catholic views.

ABC isn't saying a word, and McDonough is also silent, though folks say it wasn't just the sex scenes McDonough didn't like. He wouldn't even kiss Madsen. Hell, I'd kiss her!

Though...................I'd rather, yeah, you know, him.
McDonough, married and the father of three, reportedly didn't make his religious convictions clear with show producers before the shoot, although it seemed common knowledge that, for the same religious reasons, he refused love scenes with Nicolette Sheridan on Housewives, and he abstained from sexiness in Boomtown and films such as Minority Report and Walking Tall.
McDonough stands to lose around $1 million for the firing. Like I said, I'd kiss Madsen, and for a lot less than a mil. McDonough has been replaced by David James Elliott.

He's hot, too, and doesn't mind a little TV nookie now and again.

On the Charlie Sheen front, People magazine, that bastion of hardhitting reporting, says that after months of arrests, bad press and more rehab, Charlie Sheen is allegedly looking for a way out of Two and a Half Men.

Sheen has been quietly telling friends, and People, that he's not coming back to the show; he has already scrapped filming of the last two episodes this season. CBS is reportedly looking for someone to replace him, searching rehab facilities, AA meetings, and jail cells for just the right guy.

Yeah, good luck with that.

Howard Stern said recently that Gabourey Sidibe, star of Precious: Based On The Novel Push By Sapphire, wouldn't work again in Hollywood because she's too fat. He even went so far as to say she was committing slow suicide because of her weight.

Well, Howard, asshat, Gabby has the last laugh.

Rumor has it that Sidibe is going to be hosting an upcoming episode of Saturday Night Live! No word on when she'll appear, but it seems to be a done deal.

But SNL isn't the only job Gabby's taken after her recent Oscar nomination. She has a recurring role on Showtime's upcoming The Big C, about a teacher, played by Laura Linney, living with cancer. Gabby will be one of her sassy students.

So, um, Howard? Shaddup.

Kelsey Grammer was recently sued because a man claims his ideas for his own screenplay were stolen and used in Grammer's 2008 film, Swing Vote.

I know, I've never heard of it either.

But Bradley Blakeman alleged that he gave a copy of his script Go November to Grammer in 2006 and was surprised to see him in Swing Vote which was "extraordinary similar" to his own film idea.

Names were called.

Penises were measured.

Feet were stomped.

And a lawsuit came about.

And now, Kelsey Grammer has ended that lawsuit by paying Blakeman ten bucks in settlement.

Ten.Dollars.

It was just enough to cover the cost of the ticket he purchased to see Swing Vote.

Both parties are happy with the result.

What do big TV stars do when their bread-and-butter gets cancelled?

If you're Jim Belushi, former star of TVs According To Jim....I know, I never saw it either....you could have affiars with multiple women and then enter sex rehab.

Or, you cause an uproar on a plane.

I mean, what better way to keep your hasbeen name in the press?

Belushi was on an American Airlines flight from Los Angeles to Las Vegas and decided he needed to nap during the 40 minute flight. But one of those pesky flight attendants woke him up, and Belushi, apparently grouchy after a nap, caused a scene forcing the captain to radio ahead to Vegas to have the police waiting when they landed.

The police decided that no crime was committed so Jim Belushi.....I'm Jim Belushi Dammit....was able to get into Vegas and raise all sorts of ex-TV star racket.

I guess whatever happens on a plane to Vegas stays on a plane to Vegas.

It seemed like only a week ago that Kim Zolciak, one of the crazies from The Real Housewives Of Atlanta, was declaring that she was involved in a relationship with a woman, DJ Tracy Young.

Now. It's over.

Those lesbians, and the lesbian wannabes don't waste any time.

It seems that Young was miffed because Zolciak couldn't-wouldn't-shouldn't-didn't-can't-won't commit to her and that Zolciak keeps running back to her Pimp Daddy, Big Poppa, Lee Najjar.

While Young may have had a bigger strap-on, Najaar has a bigger wallet.

And Zolciak is all about the wallet.

And, here's more from inane Kim Zolciak.

She wants to declare herself Team Bullock.

She's never met Sandra Bullock, but the Real Housewives of Atlanta whore Zolciak has declared herself 100% on Sandra's side, and wants Bullock to punish Jesse James for his alleged infidelities.

Kim says: "She should cut his whole package off. Light it like a fire cracker and blow it off."
Wow! Wonder how Kim would have felt if her Pimp Daddy, Big Poppa's wife had castrated him when he was screwing around with Zolciak while he was married to another.

She might have stayed longer at the strap-on.

The Hair and The Dyke are at it again.

Donald Trump is wasting no time jumping back on the "Rosie O'Donnell is fill in the blank" wagon once news came out that she'll be heading back to TV once Oprah is gone.

First, let's take a moment and rejoice in the fact that, yes, Oprah will be gone.

Now, back to The Hair and The Dyke.

Trump says: "She's a loser. Her other shows didn't do well, this one won't do well. Everything she touches is a failure, she's a failure."
Everything, Donald? The View failed? Her first talk-show failed?

Maybe your hair is too tight and you just forgot.

Maybe you have a thing for loudmouthed lesbians.

Yeah, that's probably it.

I Ain't One To Gossip, But..................

I don't get Charlie Sheen.
I don't see talented actor or TV comedy star. I see alcoholic, drug addicted, serial groom, with a penchant for spousal battery. I don't see why a woman, any woman, would want to hook her wagon, as it were, to his star.
Except for the fact that, as the :::cough cough::: star of that :::cough cough::: hit show, Two And A Half Men, Sheen makes $20 million a year.
So, please to explain, what the frig is wrong with people that they want to marry this loser, let him beat them, and then go back to him? Please to explain, why a TV network, and I'm lookin' at you CBS, would spend $20 million a year on this asshat?
Hey CBS! I can do his job for a tenth of what you pay him and you wouldn't have to worry about me getting arrested or going to rehab or divorces or battery charges or being addicted to porn...okay, let me have that last one, because I promise it won't keep me from showing up to work.

This is scary, but I kind of like Victoria Beckham. Now, to be fair, I'd really only want to be her friend to get close to her husband :::::yum::::: but she is quite funny. And, yes, almost human.
I saw her on The View this week and she seemed far less alien than she looks. She was quite funny, at times, though, I must say, to hear her talk about how the CFDA [Council of Fashion Designers of America] was working to keep underage models and Number 2 pencil thin models off the runway, was a hoot.
I mean, Posh Spice, who allegedly had ribs removed so she could be a size -4, who hasn't eaten solid food since 1995, talking about too thin models? Joy Behar laughed so hard she blew Posh off the couch.
Posh Spice talking about ridding the runways of the world of too thin models is like me talking about reducing the bitchy catty attitude of gay men.
What?

Justin Timberlake is gay.
Yup, big old queen. Okay, he might not be gay [openly] but he is a big old prissy boy.
And a bitchy one at that.
But he needs his space and he longs for his privacy. How Garbo of him.
He was having a show from his design collection ::::i know....funny.....right::::: the William Rast collection, last week, and he made certain that all staff members at the venue signed a Don't-Look-At-Me-Talk-To-Me-Breathe-On-Me-Or-Speak-My-Name gag order. He also made certain that much of the venue was closed to every one but, well, him.
Queeeeeeeeen.
Everyone else, from stylists, models, assistants, coordinators and anyone who worked on the show was crammed into a corner so Justin could roam freely, and alone.
Bitch please. It's not like you're Jennifer Lopez.

Vanity Fair always does a New Hollywood issue, featuring all the new talent out there, just aching for a trip on the Casting Couch. Trouble is, as usual, their New Hollywood, is skinny, pasty, and white.
Not good news for Gabourey Sidibe, star of Precious: Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire. She wasn't asked to be anywhere near Vanity Fair as they readied their New Hollywood version. Seriously, one of the most break-out performances of the year, and she isn't asked to join the shoot.
I bet she's pissed.
Um, no, because Gabby takes the high road. Asked if she was upset at being excluded, Gabby said: “At first I thought, ‘Hmm, should I be there? Then I very quickly got over it. I think if I were a part of that shoot I would have felt a little left out anyway. I would have felt a little like… whether or not I should have been there. [It] doesn’t matter, because I wasn’t on it and I’m excited to be mentioned anywhere, and it doesn’t matter to me where I’m not mentioned.”
Gabby don't need no stinking Vanity Fair.

This has to be a joke.
It seems that producers of American Idol have lost their marbles. Word comes from somewhere, perhaps inside my head, that Paula Deen, of the FOOD Network, will come on the show as a guest judge this season.
Supposedly, the deal has been in the works for "weeks."
In related news, Randy Jackson will have his own Food Network Show called Dawg Bonz.

Pot.Kettle.Black.
Lisa Rinna, of big ginormous fake, pumped full of goddess knows what, lips fame, is flapping those enormous lips about Heidi "Media Whore" Montag.
She apparently tore the cover off of People magazine the week Heidi was featured because she didn't think it was appropriate for her own young girls to read about Heidi's Surgical Misadventure's.
See, in the Rinna house, you can't look at pictures of women who've gone off the plastic surgery deep end, unless it's a picture of mommy and her inflatable lips and breasts and frozen forehead.

Speaking of plastic surgery, Jane Fonda has gone the nip/tuck route. Again. At 72-years-old, Fonda, looking gorgeous, decided she needed some touch ups done in time for the DVD release of her new exercise video.
But, unlike Heidi and Rinna, Fonda cops to the knife talk, and jokes about it:
"I just had some work done on my chin and neck and had the bags taken away from under my eyes so I decided it would be a good idea to get a new haircut so people will think it's my new hair."
Fool 'em with a new 'do, Jane.
Brazilliant!

I loves me some Judge Judy.
I admit it. I'm an addict, and I will not be joining any 12-step program to cure myself of Judy.
And, obviously, I'm not the only one.
Judy's show has been on the number one spot against any other syndicated half hour court show for 700 consecutive weeks! Thirteen freakin' years!
So, Judge Alex, and Judge Mathis and Judge Fill In The Blank, keep plugging along, because you'll never catch her.
In fact, she's even out-Oprah's Oprah a few times.
Makes me love her even more.

Peta has a Hit List, and Catherine Zeta-Jones is right up there, at the top!
The animal activist group has named Zeta-Jones their Worst Dressed Celeb of the year for her extensive wardrobe of animal skins and fur:
"With her creepy cow-skin pants, ugly fox coat, and icky alligator bag, Catherine Zeta-Jones looks like she’s working her way through Noah’s ark with a knife. Maybe she’s trying to get into character for an upcoming role as a serial killer--or a taxidermist."
Michael Douglas should be careful. apparently Catherine is fond of leathery looking handbags and he has just the face for it.