The Kids Are Alright

There's nothing I like better than a full on celebrity meltdown, and child stars do it best!  From Britney's shaved head to Amanda's cheap wigs to the last ten years of Lindsay's life, falling apart while having it all is a look that never gets old.  (What can I say?  Haters gonna hate!)  While there are at least three heading toward a 5150 hold at any given time, a few do manage to make it out of Hollywood alive and (relatively) sane.  Assholes!

Jason Bateman was in town recently to promote Bad Words, and interesting looking film I didn't get to watch on my ten hour flight from Athens thanks to the screaming three year old having an exorcism behind me, and it was everything I could do not to turn around after the first hour and a half and punch that little bitch in the face and shut her up real fast.  Seriously, some parents should be sterilized!

Sean Astin was in town to promote something that wasn't the thirty year anniversary of The Goonies.  His father played Gomez Addams, (which kinda makes him Pugsly?) and that's more interesting than whatever he was promoting.

Ben Savage was promoting Girl Meets World, the reboot of Boy Meets World that we've all (read: nobody) been waiting for, and if Hollywood has run out of original ideas and turned to Nick at Night for inspiration let me start a kickstarter campaign to bring back It's A Living right now!  More Ann Jillian please!!!

After hitting the wall pretty hard, Jason Priestley milked the last few seconds of his fifteen minutes with a memoir revealing that Brad Pitt doesn't shower (yawn) and Tori Spelling sold his wedding invitation in her yard sale, which kinda pissed me off because I didn't know she was having a yard sale and who wouldn't want a souvenir from her classic TV movie Mother May I Sleep With Danger?

Speaking of Tori, she teamed up with that bland tramp harlot whore Kelly Taylor for a new TV series Mystery Girls, about former co-stars reuniting to solve mysteries, and there is nothing in the world that can prepare you for the exquisite beauty of Tori Spelling at 8AM, looking like a constipated Admiral Akbar trying to push out a turd.  The real mystery: why didn't she name the show Charlie's Angels and call Shannen Doherty so it would actually get ratings?

Even Donny Osmond, the patron saint of child stars who made it out alive, put in a NY appearance to reminisce about the fifty year cheesefest he and Marie have subjected us to.  The one thing I remember about their cornball TV show was the balloons dropping from the ceiling every time they said goodnight, and I always felt a little gyped as a kid when I said goodnight and there was nothing.  No ballons.  No applause.  No one announcing me out over the credits.  Nothing!  My parents set me up for YEARS of disappointment at a young age!