Paparazzi Leftovers

As the last few hours of the year creep by, I've stopped flipping through my friends' Facebook years in review and started deleting them as friends instead, so if you're reading this post right now you can consider yourself one of the lucky ones.  And consider yourself doubly lucky, because instead of posting my own year in review (Ice bucket challenges!  Kim K.'s ass!  My trip to Greece!  Oh joy!) I'm still scrambling to post the last few celebrity photos of 2014 so I can start the new year as fresh as a summer's eve.

Sure, I coulda come up with something witty about Cheers so I could post these photos of Ted Danson and Rhea Perlman.  But I didn't. 

And yes, I should have taken the time to write about Shark Tank, and how I accidentally stiffed Barbara Corcoran out of $2.00 for charity.  But again, I didn't.

I could talk about how great television was when I was a kid, and reminisce about Happy Days,

The Dukes of Hazzard,

Fame,

but that would be too much work.

I could tell you that Mario Lopez is even sexier in person,

that Ryan Phillipe is not,

and that while Fred Armisen and Emma Thompson are happy to sign autographs,

Bill Murray ignores everyone like he's autistic.

I could praise Andy Cohen for firing Aviva, or tear him apart for this season of The Real Housewives of New Jersey.

I could even go into detail about how Anna Camp didn't want to take this photo because she just took her shoes off (do YOU see shoes in this photo?),

or how perfectly cast the cold, slightly glazed over Madeleine Stowe is on Revenge,

but all of this would take time that I just don't have.

Instead, I'm gonna end this blog, and this year, on a positive note.  That's right you fucks, I'm gonna plaster a smile on my face like I do every day, pretend that life is great and I don't occasionally think about jumping in front of the subway train as it's pulling into the station, and grin like I mean it.  I learned it from Marie Osmond.

As You Wish

I've always been a fan of soap operas.  Daytime, nighttime, it doesn't matter.  The drama, the grandeur, the outrageous storylines, I love it all.  One of my all time favorites was Santa Barbara, and I remember racing home from school each day with my mom to watch Robin Wright as Kelly Capwell in one of her first acting roles.  When she was cast in The Princess Bride, Kelly went insane after killing Dylan Hartley and was locked in a mental institution until Pearl had himself committed, fell in love with Kelly and helped her escape to Switzerland until the Capwell family could convince Gina to hand over the videotape proving Kelly killed Dylan in self defense.  But this post is not about Robin Wright or Santa Barbara, it's about Cary Elwes, who was also in The Princess Bride but not nearly as interesting.

Blondes With Big Tits That Aren't Pamela Anderson

I love talentless, attention seeking whores who crave fame so badly that they'll take off their pants for Playboy or star in some Skinemax 'erotic thriller' until they can prostitute themselves to the rapper or actor they meet in the grotto, convincing themselves it's 'love' when the guy is all "She's got a vagina, she's got tits, she gives me anal, I'll put up with her shit for a little while 'cause I get to cum in her."

That's what makes these photos of Shannon Tweed and Coco Austin so great.  Delusion.

Half the Sex In The City

I had a hell of a cardio workout at the gym this morning, and by that I mean I spent an extra hour on the elliptical machine watching Sex and the City just to see Samantha's hot neighbor's cock Charlotte poughkeepsie her pants again.  There's talk of a third movie, in which they all retire to a three bedroom home in Miami and bemoan their terrible sex lives over cheesecake in the kitchen, but I feel like that's been done already, no?  Plus, with  Kim Jong-un running Hollywood it may be just talk.
Anyway, here are Kristin Davis and Kim Cattrall running around NYC promoting shit that isn't Sex and the City between hot flashes.

Could It Be Magic?

He's come a long way since the days of performing in gay bathhouses with Bette Midler, and this morning Barry Manilow was on the Today Show to promote his 30th studio album My Dream Duets, a compilation of duets with dead people.  No kidding.  Now, I'm not one of those middle aged Fanilows who's seen him a million times and still throws their panties up on stage like a teenager, but I am a fan and I really wanted a photo.  I've heard Barry doesn't like taking photos with fans (I've also heard he's into black men, but that's another story) so it's a miracle this even happened, and I'm not even a little upset that he looks better than me in it.

Cheap Thrills, Courtesy of Victoria

Every year I sit transfixed, watching the annual Victoria's Secret prerecorded infomercial for overpriced, cheaply manufactured underwear that I clearly have no use for and nobody to buy it for, scratching my head wondering why, and Tuesday night was no exception.  Maybe it's a deep seeded desire to watch a malnourished South American hooker teeter down a runway in heels and uncomfortable wings, trying to look elegant with a plastered on smile while silently praying she doesn't trip or have a tit pop out.  Does that make me a bad person? 

This year, Victoria amped up her game with TWO fantasy bras, worn by Alessandra Ambrosio and Adriana Lima, seen here promoting the show at Good Morning America

but the real highlight was when toddler diva Ariana Grande got smacked in the head by a model's giant wings.  CBS chose not to show it, but I'm happy to because it's the season of giving.

Peter Pan Live!

If you hated yourself enough to watch NBC's Christmas in Rockefeller Center last night, you'll probably tune in again tonight to see Allison Williams put on a busted wig to play the mischievous boy who never grows up in the live TV musical Peter Pan.  I'm not sure why they chose her to follow in the footsteps of JR Ewing's mama, a dilapidated gymnast and a wonky eyed shill for Nabisco Wheat Thins when there are so many grown women more suited for the role, like Pink and Justin Bieber, but what do I know?  I'll be watching Mob Wives anyway.


Here's Sandy Duncan and another Peter Pan at NBC to promote this mess.

Hello, I've Waited Here For You....Everlong

Rock & Roll Hall of Fame inductee, former Nirvana drummer, Courtney Love nemesis, head Foo Fighter and all around bad ass Dave Grohl was on the Howard Stern show this morning to promote the Foos' latest album Sonic Highways, their HBO series documenting the making of the album, and a surprise concert at Irving Plaza this Friday night that I won't be able to attend because tickets are only available at the box office, the line opens at 3PM Friday for a 5PM sale time, and I don't get out of work until 5:30, and I know you're all "Bitch, you have a job?" because you're probably thinking I just chase celebrities around all day but yes, I have a job, and I'm quite good at it.  I've seen the Foos rock small clubs, intimate theaters and large arenas, and this will be a great concert, so I'll just take consolation in these photos with Dave and Taylor Hawkins outside Sirius today.