The man in slush-dirtied Kenneth Cole knock-offs trudged through the industrial park. The Cup O’ Noodles clutched in his angry, defeated, ashamed, rueful hand followed. Or something to that Stephen King’s The Gunslinger series effect.
Archive for the ‘But You Have No Idea’ Category
So the next chapter in the Twilight…you aren’t really wanting me to type “saga” are you…just kick me in the nuts, then…premieres in LA on Thursday. It is now 10:22 pm Eastern time on Tuesday. Guess who’s camping out down at LA’s LA Live complex with cardboard cutouts of Robert Pattinson, tearful declarations that they would have his baby if only he would look at them and SEE THEIR EXTREME LOVE, and shitty panties (there is no way Ashley is getting out of line to use the bathroom at the taco place on the corner because he might show up and look at Jenn instead and Ashley got Robert’s face tattooed on her upper lip because he is vampire majesty who stalks her dreams and she will run Jenn over with her parent’s Honda Element if Robert ever dared look at Jenn and not her)? Yeah, Twihards. (more…)
Sergeant Steve Douglas, from Palm Springs Police Department, told RadarOnline.com the kidnapper forcibly took London — who played Griffin Holbrook on the hit FOX series Party of Five and Chandler Hampton on 7th Heaven — and drove him around in his own vehicle, while terrorizing him at gun point.
The suspect had a small hand gun, police said.
London told the po po that he was trying to change a flat tire outside the Bahama Hotel & Apartments on North Palm Canyon Drive on June 10 (someone celebrated my birthday by kidnapping and terrorizing a druggy actor) when suspect Brandon Adams stopped and offered to help. This “help” reportedly involved driving Jeremy around for five hours in his own car (so they fixed the flat first?), making him smoke crack and having him buy drinks for everyone down in the hood aka “a gang area of Palm Springs,” say the cops. London says he managed to escape around 3 AM.
Again, I am feeling the following was referenced in someone’s head (*cough* Jeremy’s *cough*) before this tomfoolery broke out (warning, this is the sequence that caused a lot of people to quit the show):
Adams was arrested and booked but watch out for the potholes in this story. London has had some issues with drugs in the past, and this sounds like some sort of bitch didn’t pay his bill incident. Having to act on 7th Heaven would make anyone take a lighter to the pipe. I still want to know why they were all white and the youngest daughter was Puerto Rican and there was no sort of adoption storyline. Suspect.
And whattayaknow? Radar now sez that there’s a bench warrant out for London’s arrest for driving without a license. He was already on probation for a DUI in aught four. “I was forced to smoke crack cocaine, officer.” Hmmph.
Preface – I ripped this photo off from Dlisted, and it’s a Splash photo which means I will probably be asked to cut the shit and take it down and then beaten by a minor cast member of The City. Which I totally will.
But first, people need to see some real love. And when I say real love, I mean a photo of Dustin Hoffman and Jason Bateman getting some Harold & Maude romantic shit done in the stands at last night’s Celtics game in Los Angeles.
Now I know in reality this was to bag on the paparazzi or maybe gross out Kevin Garnett or Dustin’s in the Arrested Development movie and they are laying some comedic marketing pipe. But I would rather see it as like Luke and Obi One finally putting down their sabers after a tough day of training and talking about how well they could kill womp rats with their land speeder’s lasers and their eyes meeting and then…bliss. And around them, a stadium bursts into cheers.
I was always hot for Tootsie, too, Jason.
Contest! Seeing as I will be asked to take this pic down, I ask readers to submit their own representations of Jason Bateman and Dustin Hoffman making out in the bleachers! Whether it’s digital art, or a crayon drawing or in blood! The winner will be added to this post for posterity (in place of my stolen picture,) and will receive a special prize from yours truly, J. Harvey! Judging will begin by a panel of experts (meaning, me, and I might ask Scotty his opinion) on Friday morning! DO IT!
As you may have heard by now, Sandra Bullock has passed on attending the international premieres of her Oscar-winning (I’m trying to get over that one, although I’m happy Sandy won that jam, she’s Sandy and you can’t not like her despite some of her shitty movie choices…) flick The Blind Side. And you know the reason why, too. Her husband, West Coast Choppers reality dude Jesse James, has been fucking everyone under the sun including Nazis (no joke) and various stripper freaks. Why you gotta do Sandy like that, Jess?
Sandy Bullock is one of those celebrities who I can’t help liking. I don’t know, she just never triggered my celebrity gag reflex. She seems like your cool aunt or the chick at work that you can go for a pint with and tell her about the time the plumber caught you whacking off. She’s been in several thousand middle of the road movies (God, I could watch 28 Days every weekend for the rest of my life…it’s that bad/good, like a cinematic Hershey’s kiss, plus I think I want to be Jasper when I grow up despite him being a total wanker – “I’m sorry I make it so hard to love me!” WAH!) and just made America feel content. She’s attractive but non-threatening. Angelina seems like the kind of girl who you would find having sex with your hot mom, Nicole Kidman looks like candle wax, Jennifer Aniston is completely boring and pathetic and no one’s sure why she keeps making movie after movie because no one goes to them but Sandy is just..nice. She does her job and lives her life.
When she ended up married to the scary (but sorta hot before he ended up being a prick fiend) Jesse James, it was kind of a huh? But hey, stranger things have happened (did ya see Britanny Murphy’s husband? Tell me drugs didn’t kill her ass.) A Beauty and the Beast sitch, one can see Jesse wiping grease off his mitts on his jeans as Sandy brings a couple of beers out to the garage and he sweeps her in her arms and she laughs and hey..cool relationship.
Then THIS strumpet with the Nazi fetish and this other slattern came forward to snatch that cash with tales of Jesse lubing up his crank shaft and inserting it into their retread caverns. Sigh. That’s a real downer. Best Actress Oscar curse aside (Kate Winslet took awhile to dump her hubby, btw, so not sure it’s a curse up there with the cast of Poltergeist dying horribly), it really puts a damper on this non-Hollywoodish Hollywood couple love story.
I feel for Sandy. The girl showed up to collect her Razzie in person the same week she won the Oscar. She’s a class act. So she makes movies about FBI agents who become beauty queens, and stalkers who comedically fall down wells. She’s nice. Sandy, if you need a friend, you know how to find me.
Alright, alright, I was gone for way too long. And I got some (3) awfully sweet requests (ok, 2) to start blogging again about ridiculous things that only really I care about. Who are these people? Are they in iron lungs? Are they wafting about a lakeside home, staring at the placid water, and feeling the emptiness inside that comes when J. Harvey‘s lazy ass hasn’t gone to WordPress since November? I think I love them and what am I so afraid of? There were a couple of things that kept me from sharing my vapid thoughts and ill-researched opinions. Jump the hell over and hear me whine and find out fun facts about J. Harvey’s personal life that you never knew before! (That rest stop arrest was just a misunderstanding, there is more than one J. Harvey that operates his own glory hole ya know!)
Don’t eat your bagel just yet this morning, I’ve got some nasty news that is going to make you wish you skipped this link on Facebook. Mackenzie Phillips is the druggish 70s TV star who played the older sis on One Day At A Time, and is the daughter of 60s rock star John Phillips of the Mamas and the Papas. Well get this – Mackenzie claims in her new book that she was sleeping with her Dad. Yeah, I just took any Mamas and Papas songs off my iTunes, too. Cuz, gross. I’m gonna miss “I Saw Her Again Last Night.” Mama Cass just re-choked on her ham sandwich in Big Girl Rock Star Heaven.
In her new memoir, High On Arrival, Phillips says that her Dad dropped a taboo off a very tall building when she woke up with him on top of her right before her wedding to her first husband in 1979.
“I had tons of pills, and Dad had tons of everything too. Eventually I passed out on Dad’s bed. My father was not a man with boundaries. He was full of love, and he was sick with drugs. I woke up that night from a blackout to find myself having sex with my own father. Had this happened before? I didn’t know. All I can say is it was the first time I was aware of it. For a moment I was in my body, in that horrible truth, and then I slid back into a blackout.”
I blame Valerie Bertinelli. This is some serious shit. This is a big accusation. And John Phillips is dead, so homeincest can neither confirm nor deny. And it gets…I was actually going to say better…I meant worse. Apparently their relationship wasn’t a one time thing. John reportedly wanted them to retire to Incest Island together.
“I was a fragment of a person, and my secret isolated me. One night Dad said, ‘We could just run away to a country where no one would look down on us. There are countries where this is an accepted practice. Maybe Fiji.’ He was completely delusional. No, I thought, we’re going to hell for this.”
Mackenize is one of the better known living examples of how drugs can throw your career in the wood chipper. She got fired from her show back in the day and is basically an example of a drug casualty.
If this is a true story – egads.
If not – she can’t ever unpull the trigger on this one.
What is someone’s motive for coming forward with this? Is she hoping her story can help others? Personal exorcism? To sell books? Christina Crawford just gave Mackenize the side-eye.
So Marissa Cooper lost her damn mind. Us is reporting that her new CW series, The Beautiful Life, has been put on hold due to her flipping her shit last week.
Blame it on the co-co-co-co-co-co-co-coke-a-hol!
Us reports that Mischa Barton was “removed” from her West Hollywood home on Wednesday by the police people. No 911 call was received, according to a source.
“We responded to her home last night on a medical issue,” Officer April Harding tells Us. “We assisted with it. She was removed from her home.”
Harding tells Us no 911 call was received, and that she was not sure if Barton, 23, was in distress. When asked if the actress was cooperative, she tells Us: “I guess.”
Great spokeswoman. Way to vague it up, Officer April.
The former The OC starlet, long the subject of cocaine nosejob rumors and who has done little to nothing since she left that show except for jetting between London and LA to meet dudes and get trashed (fun), was held on a 5150 (which is an involuntary psychiatric hold) and then transferred to Cedars-Sinai where she is still reportedly residing.
Someone took an extended vacation at the ski slope if you know what I’m sayin’. Too much of that shit and you are cranking up “Jesse’s Girl” in a Speedo while your underage Thai ladyboy companion is setting off firecrackers. You know what I’m referencing.
To Mischa’s credit, she still had an awesome death scene. Why did Marissa Cooper have to die for Mischa finally to be able to show some acting ability?
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Thanks, Theresa. This shit here. Everyone’s flogging this New Jersey realness from the early 90s today, but I’ll give the credit to D-Listed because that guy is brilliant.
These are the highlights from a documentary that I obviously missed out on the first go-round because I would have remembered this stirring experience. Wildwood, NJ depicted the lives and loves of outspoken NJ teens growing up in Wildwood, NJ in 1994. I have watched this three times so far and I’m probably going to watch it three more before the day is done. The hard rock chick in the beginning refers to her vagine as “the check to cash.” Hold me.
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I’m also partial to the “it’s different” crispy-haired chick who is basically telling that guy that “it’s different, and whatever happens happens” because as soon as he shoots, he’s being sent back to the gas station and she’s going to meet the next available penis on the ride behind her.
Oh and the chicks who love to fight! It’s like they’re Ultimate Fighting Aqua Net Warriors! Five girls? Boyfriend is preventing her? You put someone in the hospital? What happened? She sprayed me in the eyes with Mace! Listen, I’ve been Maced before so her makeup must be cast-iron if she was able to get up after that and school a bitch!
God, the bare shoulders with sleeves! She’s killed people! Gun to her back? This Amy Fisherette is a damn liar! Let’s go to Jersey. I need to see if she’s still hanging out by the payphone, telling lies!
This gentleman and his lawyer have “a statement.” Read that quick, bitch, and get out my spotlight!
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How does Joe Jackson fix his mouth to talk that way? Here’s Michael Jackson‘s old-ass and money-sucking father on the red carpet of the BET Awards the other night. Joe showed incredible poise and grace by using the red carpet to PLUG HIS NEW RECORD LABEL whilst the rest of the world was thinking about how his kid just died.
(And horribly. The autopsy revealed all MJ ate for breakfast, lunch and dinner were pills and pain injections. And he was bald. The Fates didn’t like him shacking up with kids.)
Anyway, Joe would like you to step over his son’s body (well, the little bastard went and took the ATM with him) and experience the revolutionary “Blu-Ray technology” of his latest venture.
You know how in every film adaption of the life of a superstar there’s someone in their inner-circle who is almost comicbooky in the evil way they suck the life out of the performer? That’s this dude.
He is ancient, so I’m hoping this is just dementia talking. He does seem a little out of it. Anyway. This Joe Jackson is so much hotter:
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