Shits That I Don't Give

If you read this blog, which some of you do but most don't but I pretend you do, you know that I write this stuff to entertain and to keep track of all the crazy stories stuck in my head, even if there's no audience.  My friend Marie told me she loves the blog but can't share it with her friends because I use the word 'fuck' a lot (and her friends are evangelical christians or Jehovah's Witnesses or some shit outside of my foul mouthed, filthy minded target demographic?  I don't know...) which is very funny to me because a lot of this is just stream of consciousness Courtney Love rambling and shit.  Well I'm not going to censor my thoughts, but I'm going to try not to use the word 'fuck' in this post, and maybe increase my readership a little so I can use this blog to start applying for actual press passes to events instead of lurking outside like a stalker.

So Forest Whitaker was at Good Morning America to promote The Butler, which I really need to see because everyone keeps saying how brilliant it is and how it will move me which I hope means a Lenny Kravitz nude scene, and let me just stay that Forest is a great actor but that eye is a big distraction (what?  You're thinking it too!) and pulls me out of a scene sometimes where I'm like 'oh, that's Forest Whitaker' in a way I never do with Meryl Streep.  Forest didn't sign autographs going in or out of the studio and barely acknowledged the fans, which is why this photo looks like it was taken through a window, which it was.

The next day Harrison Ford was at Good Morning America to promote Paranoia, looking nothing like the cancer ridden skeleton on the cover of this week's National Enquirer but more like a politician doing damage control after getting caught in a sex scandal a week before election day, and the crowd went wild because this man is an icon!!!  Nerds in stormtrooper costumes stand in line for hours just to see this guy!  He has rides at Disneyland and action figures from two different franchises!  Calista Flockhart is his wife!  (Okay, forget that last one but still!)  He may be 71, but Harrison Ford has still got it.  Oh, but take out the earring.  I know he's had it forever and I should get over it but it still makes me chuckle sadly.

Cuba Gooding Jr., on the other hand, leaves no impression on me, so when he was promoting The Butler (what IS it with this movie anyway?) the same day, I snapped my picture and headed to work.

And speaking of no impression, here's a constipated looking Ethan Hawke in Times Square promoting some dumb looking action filming costarring.....Selena Gomez.  I know, right?  How the mighty have fallen!  Ethan hasn't been relevant since he divorced Uma Thurman to marry the babysitter.  The turd I flushed earlier is more relevant than Ethan Hawke these days!

Remember Sinbad?  It amazes me that he was even famous in the first place, but he had sitcoms and record deals and HBO specials and was on top of the world for about ten minutes in the 90's before everybody forgot about him all at once and he had to declare bankruptcy (twice) because he was still living the life even though he couldn't pay for it.  Well he was at NY Live to promote something something blah blah blah who cares and he's really freaky looking in person in a kinda black/kinda white/kinda red way that's as difficult to describe as it is to photograph in bright sunlight.

And would you look at that?  I managed to get to the end of this blog without using the word 'fuck'!  The press passes are gonna start rolling in any day now!!!!

Is Katy Perry having an identity crisis?

NEWSFLASH: Katy Perry has done the unthinkable and appeared relatively sedate, which is a far cry from her usual Flintstones inspired fuckery and drag queen makeup tendencies.  In town to promote her new single, Katy arrived at the Elvis Duran morning show in this shapeless schmata fished out of the bargain bin of a Forever 21 sample sale.  Gone was the jewelry box ballerina in Candyland.  The gumdrop pooping princess with the whipped cream shooting rack has been replaced by a Japanime goth on a budget that looks like she has a lot of experience meeting guys at truckstops.  The overall effect is quite cheap, but that's the general Katy Perry vibe anyway.  She was great with the fans though, signing autographs, posing for photos and making this goofy face for me when all I asked for was a smile, giving me hope that the shiny, quirky schtick isn't gone forever and making the trip to Tribeca (which is a fucking HIKE from my apartment, especially after a tough morning workout) worthwhile.

You Sexy Motherfucker!

My b-hole was all atingle (not like that you sucio fuck!) early this month when Lenny Kravitz stopped by Good Morning America to promote The Butler.  Lenny is pure sex in leather pants, always turning on the smolder with his sexy raspy voice, perfect rock star body and the smoothness of maple syrup.  I didn't hear a word of the interview as I fantasized about him pouring chocolate sauce all over his bare chest while the devil sitting on my left shoulder kept whispering 'get me that' over and over in my ear like a cheap slut, and I will say a prayer of thanks to Roxie Roker every Mother's Day for giving us The Jeffersons and this perfect glistening god-man!

We're The Millers

So against my better judgement, I went to the NY premiere of We're the Millers, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jennifer Aniston on her way into the Ziegfield theatre.  I'm not a fan, and am squarely team Angelina (the motorcycle riding, lesbian cutter who gets high and drinks blood like a vampire Angelina, not the UN ambassador, changing the world humanitarian with half a dozen kids Angelina) but curiousity got the best of me and I said fuck it, let's take a chance.

Movie premieres can be a giant clusterfuck, and this was no exception, with fans lined up at the barricades like a better dressed Occupy Wall Street outpost when I arrived.  I found a spot between some Italian tourists and a group of flaming black queens straight out of Paris is Burning and waited.  And waited.  And waited, while the Italians yammered in one ear and the queens went on and on about Justin and Miley and Selena in the other ear until I thought my head would explode from gay overdose, because yes, there is such a thing and it was all over West 54th street that night.  I managed to get a shot of Ed Helms, who went down the line posing and signing for everyone...

but the crowd went nuts when Jason Sudeikis arrived with Olivia Wilde, and I couldn't get a clean shot, so it's a good thing he pimped the movie at Good Morning America the following week and was super nice, posing and signing autographs for all the fans.

 Nothing compared to the frenzy when Jennifer Aniston finally arrived at close to 7PM so she could sign a few autographs and then beg off to the press line because she was 'running late,' like who's fault is that?  The fans went NUTS, pushing and shoving like rabid dogs circling raw meat.  Autographers lunged like ninjas from every direction, blocking photos with their photoboards and knocking people out of the way to get the autograph they'd put on ebay as soon as they got back to their studio apartment in Staten Island that smells of cat piss and week old laundry, which is why this picture is a little blurry and you can't tell if she's pregnant or just bloated and gassy.  I'll just have to get her at the premiere of her next forgettable romantic comedy.

I Shot Wonder Woman

This guy Sabastian that I'm friends with on Facebook is either Lynda Carter's manager or her stalker because every time she farts or blows her nose anywhere near NYC he lets me know, as if I'm going to interrupt a Real Housewives of Miami marathon to jump on a ferry to Fire Island at a moment's notice to catch her singing at the Ice Palace.  Well Sabastian you can ease up, because I finally shot Lynda Carter.

TV's original Wonder Woman was at happy hour, AKA the fourth hour of the Today Show to celebrate Kathie Lee Gifford's birthday and reassure her that you don't have to hang up your star spangled spandex diaper just because you're sixty.  Thanks to a tip from Pavan, I was able to reschedule my therapist (don't judge), take an early lunch and catch Lynda before she jumped in the invisible jet and flew off.

And the Rest....

Remember the first season of Gilligan's Island when the opening credits were in black and white and Mary Ann and the Professor were 'the rest' because their agents were shittier than the rest of the cast?  Well, this blog is going to be like that.  I have a lot of catching up to do, and no real through line for some of these people, so just sit right back and hear a tale....

8/5/13 - Miley Cyrus' hot piece Liam Hemsworth was at Good Morning America to promote Paranoia, his attempt at being a leading man.  Too bad the movie bombed, and he's still just Miley Cyrus' hot piece.  I really don't get what he sees in the chipmunk faced hillbilly skank, but you know the wedding is going to look like a tailgate party outside the Monster Truck rally in Daytona Beach.

8/8/13 - What is there to write about Josh Gad (who?) except that he was on some Jenna Elfman TV show I never bothered watching because even the commercials looked stupid and was in Jobs, which is what he was at Good Morning America to promote, except that he was more interested in the vintage car outside the studio than the few fans and photographers that wanted his attention, which is probably not the smartest move to make when your TV show just got cancelled and you're still a relative nobody who looks like Hank the Angry Drunken Dwarf.

8/13/13 - Keri Russell was at the Apple store in Soho to promote Austenland, a movie about a die-hard Jane Austen fan who plans a vacation at a country house themed in the world of the 19th Century British romance writer, which sounds really stupid until I think about how much I'd love to go to Dollywood and it's sorta the same thing except with different accents and fattier food, and that kinda bitch slaps my argument so maybe it's just a really stupid idea for a movie.  Keri is Karen Carpenter thin these days, and might benefit from some Dollywood food herself, but at least her hair grew back.

 
Stephenie Meyer, who produced Austenland, was also there and I'll forgive her for it because at least she's not writing that Twilight shit anymore, which means maybe I'll never have to see that inbred looking redneck hick Kristen Stewart in another movie and she can go back to sucking dick behind the 7-11 for an eightball.

Speaking of sucking dick, thanks to Bravo and a string of grey haired sugar daddies, Padma Lakshmi is no longer the little girl in the small village that has no running water.  Girlfriend has made it big, posing for Playboy, sleeping with rich older men for the coins and getting her own reality show.   Padma is the Anna Nicole Smith of Mumbai - a real life slumdog millionaire!  Here she is arriving at the JC Penney Joe Fresh Back to School launch in Times Square yesterday.  Jai ho!

Also there was Molly Sims, who is some model actress whose name I couldn't put a face to because it's a kinda 'meh' face and not supermodel, which is the only kind of model I really care about anyway.

Maria Menounos was spotted filming a segment for Extra in midtown Manhattan.  Okay, my friend Pavan told me where she was and I raced over on my lunch hour to snap a pic, but only because she's good friends with my friend Cameron and it's always fun to drop the six degrees of separation card with a celebrity.  Maria is a smoking hot Greek girl (my boyfriend points out anyone and anything Greek, to the point that I can't even walk past the yogurt at Whole Foods without getting annoyed) with a killer body, but she's got an irritating machine gun laugh and an annoying way of over-enunciating certain words whenever she goes on the Howard Stern show and acts all horrified when Howard asks her about anal, which the Greeks practically invented so their daughters could stay virgins until they got married. 

Holy shit! Has it been that long?

I'm probably aging myself, but I'll cop to remembering the first few seasons of Roseanne, back when it was still a comedy about a white trash couple struggling to raise a family, before fame and Tom Arnold unleashed Roseanne Barr's ego like the kraken in Clash of the Titans and the show went completely off the rails.  I remember going to the cafeteria in Mitchell Hall my freshman year of college to watch the show even though my roommate Les had a TV in his alcove because his mountain of sweaty, unwashed gym clothes smelled like a garbage dump and you couldn't even get through the opening credits without watery eyes and a barf bag.

With tabloid stories making behind the scenes antics sound more exciting than the show, it's hard to believe that twenty five years have passed since Darlene taunted Becky for farting during a school presentation or DJ kept a secret stash of dismembered dolls under his bed and that none of these kids got arrested for prostitution or murder or got thrown into court ordered rehab.  Hell, Sara Gilbert even made it back to television, although she took time out from The Talk to promote a new book about environmentalism (those lesbians and their recycling) on NY Live.

Not to be outdone, Lecy Goranson took time out of her job reading tarot cards at the Gowanus Yacht Club in Brooklyn to join TV brother Michael Fishman to promote Roseanne's twenty fifth anniversary because neither of them is doing anything new worth promoting and America loves nostalgia.

Gaga. Ha ha ha!

The pin was officially OUT of the freak-out this morning as Lady Gaga made her way to Times Square for an appearance on Good Morning America.  The news first broke last Tuesday, and little monsters were offering craigslist blowjobs and selling their baby sisters on the black market to scrape up bus fare to New York to sleep outside her hotel (The London, I'm told) hoping to catch a glimpse of her ever since, because stalker much?  Time Square resembled the Island of Misfit Toys if it was in Jerry Sandusky's basement when I arrived, with freaks of every shape, size and smell squealing in anticipation of Gaga's arrival in a scene gayer than a Care Bear's butt full of rainbows.

But...bitch got lazy, arriving in a vintage Cadillac instead of an egg or a spaceship or a volcano, and looked normalish in things that fell under the category of clothes instead of a toga made of silicone anuses or something resembling a science fair project, and the little monsters went apeshit, sobbing and carrying on like they just saw Jesus in a piece of toast.  Gaga sucked it all in like it was her lifeblood, signing a few autographs before heading into the studio for the big reveal.

 

I'm not disappointed by the video because I wasn't expecting much in the first place, and that's exactly what Gaga delivered.  Nothing.  Or everything.  If you threw the mattress scene from Black Swan, the videos for Tom Petty's "Don't Come Around Here No More" and Shakespear's Sisters "Stay", the House of Xtravaganza circa 1990, Tammy Faye Baker and a John Galliano wet dream in a blender and left the lid off, this video is what would stick to the wall.  Seriously, we've seen it all before.  And with lyrics like 'I live for the applause-plause-plause-rah-rah-papa-paparazzi-ale-ale-alejandro-roma-ooh-la-la-pa-pa-pa-pokerface-juda-juda-a-as' we've heard it all before too.  The best part of the morning was the queen in the black g-string and lucite heels chasing Gaga's SUV down 44th street during rush hour when she left.

Fast forward to lunchtime, and Gaga is at Sirius because the publicity tour for the new album is in high gear and if it's anything like Born This Way's publicity tour she's going to be everywhere everyday until the damn thing drops.   Thankfully a few less monsters, though no less chaos as security guards pushed and shoved to clear a path to the door while mother monster basked in the fame and adulation.  I think the lady in red expressed it perfectly.

That time Teri Hatcher wasn't a bitch for five minutes

Teri Hatcher has a long standing reputation for being a bitch, so it was a small miracle when she was pleasantish at Good Morning America while promoting Planes, a Disney computer animated film she provides a voice for because it's easier to stick her in a sound booth with a script than to actually work with her if all the Desperate Housewives behind the scenes stories are to be believed.  She used to be a 40-something woman clinging to sexy cougarhood, but now her face is pulled as tight as a pair of pantyhose and she looked like Mary Tyler Moore when she forced a smile. 

Dane Cook is also in Planes, and he was at Good Morning America the next day because Disney owns ABC and Good Morning America has to take it up the as whenever Disney has anything as stupid as Planes to promote.  Dane is someone I'm aware of, but don't know much about, like Germany or basketball or vagina.  He was behind me once at the movie theater in LA, but I had no idea who he was then and that really hasn't changed.

Who needs CBS when I've got cable?

After a few too many seasons resembling murky puddles of coagulated blood, True Blood ends it's sixth season Sunday night on a high.  Slut fairy Sookie pulled in some new hot dick, Terry died, Bill and Eric got superpowers, Jason and Alcide got naked (though not with each other or nearly enough) and vampire hating evangelist Sarah Newlin killed a non vampire with a stiletto in the fiercest catfight ever to come out of a TV show that wasn't Dynasty!  In honor of True Blood, here's a photo of Carrie Preston, who plays Arlene Fowler Bellefleur, five times married mother of three, waitress at Merlotte's and Bon Temps' skankiest redhead, leaving NY Live.  True Blood has been overdosing on storylines lately, and they need to cut some shit and focus on what's really important, like Arlene, Pam, Lafayette and screaming Ginger.  Oh, and male nudity.  More male nudity, less everything else!

Entourage used to come on right after True Blood, and I was hooked on that show too.  Maybe it's because I was working for entertainment lawyers in LA at the time, and that shit was happening all around me, or maybe it was because I secretly wanted to be part of that shit happening all around me, which was not so subtly reinforced every morning at the gym when I'd be doing crunches next to Jerry Bruckheimer or crossing paths with Josh Duhamel in the locker room wishing he'd get undressed but silently thankful that he didn't so I couldn't have to conceal an even bigger bone than the one I would pop just talking to him or watching Jake Gyllenhaal get ripped to shreds training for Prince of Persia while I left my A-list gym to go to my no-list job and suppress my feelings with another donut.  Anyway....here's Adrian Grenier at the Apple Store in Soho promoting his new app to help US travelers find healthy dining alternatives when they're on the road, because that's what happens to your career when your hit TV show ends and your agent won't return your calls.

One show I don't watch but probably should is Breaking Bad.  Bryan Cranston plays Walter White, a high school teacher who deals meth to secure his family's future when he learns he's dying.  How romantic is that?!  I used to know 'Walter White' when I lived in LA.  In fact, I knew a few.  Sketchy dudes that always met you on some random corner in West Hollywood or needed a ride somewhere and always happened to be available at a moment's notice no matter what time of the day or night.  Let's face it, if you're gay in LA, you either know 'Walter White' or you are 'Walter White!'

Anyway, Bryan Cranston was on Good Morning America to promote the final season of Breaking Bad, which means I'll have probably have to have a Breaking Bad marathon one of these weekends when I'm done with Orange is the New Black just to see what all the fuss is about.

That's smurfy!

Way back in the day, before lady lumps were 'fergalicious' and twerking was a thing, mischievous little blue creatures that lived in mushroom shaped houses deep in the woods would invade my TV every Saturday morning.  With an annoyingly cheerful disposition that was probably the result of hallucinogens in the mushrooms, everything was 'smurfy.'  Smurfy this.  Smurfy that.  Smurfy, smurfy, smurfy until I wanted to scream 'What the fuck is smurfy?' at the television, except my mom would have washed my mouth out with soap and sent me to my room as punishment, back when being sent to your room was actually punishment.  The marketing machine cranked into high gear and The Smurfs were everywhere.  Lunchboxes, figurines, comics, breakfast cereals, the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.  You name it, they were there.  I remember my cousin Andrea and I listening to the Smurfs record over and over on her Fisher Price record player, and can still remember the words to The Smurfs All-Star Show (The Smurfs all star show, it's really the greatest, you're gonna love it so....and when the night is over, and when it's time to go, you always will remember...the Smurfs all star show), which just goes to show you that all the drugs I did when I lived in LA were shitty, and I want my money back!

Fast forward to 2013 and The Smurfs are still at it, but this time it's a big screen adventure starring Hank Azaria, Jayma Mays and the fabulous Christina Ricci (whose best work will always be The Opposite of Sex as far as I'm concerned).  Hank was at the NY movie premiere, Jayma and Christina promoted the film on Good Morning America, and you can always find a pedophile in a Smurf costume in Times Square.

Real Housewives/Fake Tits

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Random Hookups With Men

Lace up those sneakers and load up on the carbs (gasp!) cause we've got a marathon to run today kids!  There will be no rest stops and no water breaks, so run at your own pace but please try to keep up.

First up, Shaquille O'Neal was at Good Morning America on July 10th to promote his new line of flavored cream sodas.  "What's that?" you say.  "Cream sodas?"  Well, in a career that's gone from NBA superstar to aspiring rapper to failed actor (Kazaam anyone?) to a secret career catching cyber predators by impersonating a 12-year-old girl named Tanya, why not cream soda?  It tasted like shit though.

 Speaking of shit, Ryan Reynolds and Jeff Bridges were at Good Morning America on July 18th to promote their steaming pile of shit R.I.P.D., which is pretty much the state of Ryan's career if he keeps making bombs like this one.  Dressed like a gold digging boy toy who goes straight for pay, he dutifully obeyed his handler's instructions to sign a few autographs instead of being a dick like he usually is.  Bridges was all class, signing and posing for photos with fans, because that's old school Hollywood for you.

Then there's Hugh Jackman, who joined the Good Morning America ho stroll July 24th to promote The Wolverine, except instead of half naked, sweaty, roided out, action film, run into a gym and throw your pubes at him Hugh Jackman it was suit and tie, facial hair, Jean Valjean, serious actor Hugh Jackman that showed up in Times Square, and nobody throws pubes at that.

Andrew Dice Clay was also at Good Morning America that day to promote his role in the new Woody Allen film Blue Jasmine, because apparently anyone can be in a Woody Allen film these days.  I guess I should have listened to my mom's advice about joining drama club when I was in high school and maybe I could be in a Woody Allen film instead of limiting my acting career to a scene-stealing turn as Templeton the Rat in a third grade production of Charlotte's Web and an extra in a Miami Vice scene that was cut from the movie.  Fuck you for taking my role Dice!  Go back to 1989 when you were relevant!

Just what IS Victoria's Secret?

The Victoria's Secret cult struck again last week, with distractingly hot models all over Times Square to promote Body by Victoria, another line in the never ending assault on female self esteem.  I swear this company is the leader in the Eastern European and South American sex trade industry.  They must go to impoverished countries, find these desperate teenage girls before they get into porn or kidnapped and shipped off for traditional prostitution, and take them away under contract for legal prostitution.  They work the fashion shows, catalogs and ad campaigns for years, giving teenage girls impossible dreams, teenage boys impossible expectations and married men with no internet or porn in the house a fantasy to jerk off to, until they eventually get too old and are replaced by younger girls from impoverished countries who have the same deal as they did.  Whatever, they're hot as hell, and if they're doing an in store appearance, whoring a product on a morning talk show or going to a Tupperware party, I'll be there with a camera to snap a pic.  Anyway, here's Karlie Kloss, Erin Heatherton and Behati Prinsloo doing what they were kidnapped to do, which is promote anything and everything Victoria's Secret, this time on Good Morning America

And here's Tyra Banks promoting another season of America's Next Top Model, which in a long overdue NO DUH! move, is now including men.  I am surprised this show is still on the air. Not one of the winners of this show has ever become a Top Model, leading me to believe that the whole thing is nothing but serious bullshit lies…you know a scam to make Tyra more money than she's already managed to make with her big tits pushed out to here on the Victoria's Secret runway because she was never haute couture runway model caliber and blamed it all on Naomi Campbell being threatened by another successful black model.  AS IF!

'Stars' of TV shows I don't watch

I confess, I was one of the ten people that watched Smash before it was cancelled.  The terrible acting, the weak storylines, the campy songs....what's not to love?  Think Showgirls on Broadway, Baywatch Manhattan, Sharknado on land.  It was a weekly guilty pleasure, and I happily indulged.  Krysta Rodriguez stole every scene she was in from Katherine McPhee, who's as wooden as the desk I'm sitting at.  Krysta's on Broadway now, starring in First Date with that cutie Zachary Levi, who used to be in Chuck, which I never watched but used to see billboards for all over LA.  I stumbled upon them at the stage door after a performance, so of course I had to take pictures.  Both were really nice to the fans, posing and signing right down the line for everyone.  Take note Cicely Tyson, Scarlett Johansson and Angela Lansbury, THIS is how it's done!

Another one putting in an appearance was Kathie Lee Gifford, who was at Barnes & Noble promoting the original cast recording of Scandalous: The Life and Trials of Aimee Semple McPherson, the musical she co-wrote which played on Broadway for exactly two weeks.  Seven months ago.  Talk about beating a dead horse!  Every other word out of Kathie Lee's mouth was faith or God, and it felt like I stumbled into a revival in Twin Peaks, except that the Log Lady was prettier than Kathie Lee is close up.  Clearly Jesus has a sense of humor when it comes to plastic surgery.  Hoda was there for moral support, but even she couldn't wait to get the hell out of there as soon as the lights came up.

Another show I don't watch is Royal Pains, but it's star Mark Feuerstein was at Fox and Friends doing some kind of superhero segment on the street outside the studio.  I didn't quite understand what was going on, and from the banter between he and the coanchors neither did they, but here's a picture anyway.