Magic Matt

Is it possible for your entire body to get a boner?  Because I'm pretty sure mine did today as Matt Bomer rubbed my back while this photo was taken.  Rubbed my back.  No lie.  Magic Mike XXL doesn't come out for another eight days, but it's already my favorite movie of the summer thanks to the G-rated boyfriend experience that left me breathless on West 48th street today, and I don't think it's too early to start thinking of Matt as an Oscar contender.

The Gospel According to Jackie

When I was a sophomore in high school I somehow got my hands on a copy of Jackie Collins' novel Hollywood Wives and read the book from cover to cover on a flight to San Juan with my school's Spanish club.  I didn't learn much Spanish on that trip, but damn did that book become my instruction manual on life!  Jackie Collins is life's wisest sage, and when she gifts the world with her diamond encrusted wisdom I adjust my life accordingly.  Jackie Collins is the truth.

Pretty Is Smarter Than You Think

We have become a society of instant gratification pussies, unwilling to work HARD for our accomplishments.  Newsflash: life in the real world is a bitch, and you don't get a participation award just for showing up.  Not everyone who sucks cock on film is a porn star.  Some are just sluts.  And not every pretty girl is a model, no matter what their parents tell them.  It's reality and it sucks, I know.

Now, when someone really busts their ass to become successful they should be celebrated.  Take three time Sports Illustrated swimsuit covergirl turned Christian lampshade designer Kathy Ireland, who turned a sock line at K-Mart into a billion dollar home furnishings empire and landed a spot on Forbes magazine's list of America's richest self-made women.  Along with her gripping portrayal of Brittany Maddocks on four episodes of Melrose Place, that's an accomplishment worth celebrating!

Took My Passion and Made It Happen

I finally got around to watching Flashdance recently (late to the party is my middle name) and wow was it bad!  Sure the music was great and Jennifer Beals' stand in nailed the dance sequences, but girlfriend did a better job taking off her bra without removing her sweatshirt than she did acting, and it was ALL done much better by Chlamydia Liverpool during the talent competition of the Missed America drag pageant in Atlantic City in 1997.  Jennifer is notoriously difficult with fans, avoiding autographs and photos as much as possible, so this photo is a miracle, proving Flashdance's central moral: that if you dream big (or stand in the right place at the right time and don't take no for an answer) anything can happen.

The Boys Are Back In Town

Finally worked up the energy to see Entourage: The Movie last night, and what can I say besides "meh"?  The reclining leather seats were comfortable?  The popcorn wasn't stale?  The theater had diet Dr. Pepper?  I was a huge fan of the show in it's original run, probably because I lived in LA at the time and that kind of shit was happening all around me, so I was REALLY looking forward to this film, but like everything else in my life these days it didn't live up to the hype, proving that vapid douchebaggery should be limited to 30 minute installments once a week and that I should stay home and watch Dynasty reruns on Pop TV instead.

Rapper's Delight, or Something Like That

Let's face it, I am not the target demographic for rap music, and with the exception of one Nicki Minaj song and the verse in Blondie's Rapture you won't find it on my iPod, so taking this photo with T.I. is no big deal to me.  Sure he did a song with Rihanna, but I was actually waiting to photograph Rita Moreno (because GAY) when he showed up, and since old people take forever and I had to leave for work before she arrived, there's this instead.

While we're on the subject of rap, let's two birds/one stone this shit with 50 Cent in Rockefeller Plaza Wednesday filming Access Hollywood before we go back to writing about things I'm familiar with, like Real Housewives and soap opera stars. 

The Fool He Pities

T. is for tough, and it was tough getting this photo with Mr. T. this week.  Motherfucker was shot out of a cannon, signing autographs, posing with cops and spouting all sorts of insanity as he made the rounds in NYC to promote Fuze iced tea ("How you gonna sell iced tea without Mr. T?  That's like goin' to dinner without no food!") and some new home improvement TV show I won't bother looking up because you won't watch it and neither will I, and Fuze iced tea must not be decaf because he could not stand still!

T. is also for truth, which I wasn't telling when I said his very special episode of Diff'rent Strokes inspired me as a child to never do drugs, prompting him to jibber jabber on about always wanting to be a role model for 'the kids' and being grateful that he made a difference in my life.  And T. is for terrible, which is how I should feel about lying to Mr. T.

Strangers No More

Remember Tamia, the slightly irregular outlet mall version of Debra Cox who hit the top of the dance charts in 2001 with Stranger In My House and followed it up with.....nothing?  Well, 14 years later she's back with a new album, and made the rounds this week to promote it.  Yeah, I don't care either.

Woke Up This Morning (for this?)

Nothing sucks more than having a celebrity you’ve always admired and wanted to meet to yourself and not having anyone willing or able to take your photo.  Except when your selfie game is weak and you wind up looking like a gargoyle and have to crop yourself out of the photo.  I’m talking top of Notre Dame gargoyle, not some Disney Pixar bullshit, which is why you don’t see me in this photo ‘with’ Edie Falco.  Not even Nurse Jackie could fix this shit.

Bipolar Spice?

Last night was the first time I've seen Victoria Beckham in person since I discovered where the bad seats at the Staples Center are during the Spice Girls 2007 reunion tour (hint: everywhere!), and I can't quite tell if she's a robot or suffers from split personality disorder.  In conversation with Fern Mallis as part of the 92Y's Fashion Icons series, she was all smiles (really!), and self deprecation, with a wicked sense of humor, like someone plugged her in and turned the personality switch on.*  But arriving for and leaving the event, bitch couldn't even be bothered to acknowledge the crowd, scowling like someone stole her Birkin bag or told her she had to eat something other than ice chips with a wedge of lemon.  I didn't expect her to sign autographs or take photos with fans, but she could have at least busted out one of her usual seductive corpse poses.  Spice up your fucking life bitch!

 * The 92Y does not allow picture taking during events, under strict penalty of an usher shaking a flashlight at you until you put your camera down in shame, which is why there are no photos inside the event.

But Can She Cook?

If you're looking to hire a maid in Beverly Hills, do yourself a favor and steer clear of Carmen Luna.  She sleeps with her coworkers, won't dust or vacuum, will quit your ass without notice in the unlikely event she gets a record deal, and all her previous employers wind up getting shot at.  She may be beautiful, but trust me on this one.