Counter Culture

I Will Not Be A Celeb This Year

Mon, 5 Jan 2009 09:35:58 -0800

Now that your champagne headache's worn off and the mystery of your midnight kiss has been seemingly solved, it's about time the shame sets in. Three un-washable stamps stain your hand, there's a hundred outgoing calls on your cell, and you've got recollections of telling your cousin how hot he is. Never again, you vow. No more weekday happy hours, way more Pilates. Less mistake-making and more mistake-a-learnin'-from. And on that note, 52ish celebrity lessons circa 2008 read more...

Kiss Me, Not Kate

Mon, 22 Dec 2008 15:14:17 -0800

Besides the obvious – she’s an ex-accessories buyer, I buy accessories – it seems teeth-sinker slash princess-to-be Kate Middleton and I have a lot in common. Though she spent the last weekend waterskiing in the peasant-free island of Mustique, and I spent it locked in my peasant a-plenty village apartment, bitching about bitches who water ski, I nonetheless think an iron-mask-man switcheroo is in order (come back, Leonardo DiCaprio!). Here, a call to Wills to reconsider. read more...

Nightclub Before Christmas

Thu, 11 Dec 2008 16:40:12 -0800

T’was the night before Christmas, and all through LA
Every creature was blurring the words that they say;
The stockings were pleather and the cleavage was bare,
In hopes that Robert Pattinson might just be there.
The girls were all decked out and far from their beds,
Ativan-induced visions bounce ‘round in their heads
Of a chain-smoking Britney, with a babe on her lap,
And Leo settling down for a much-needed nightcap.
Angie’s too thin now and Jessica’s fatter,
Winona’s stealing wine glasses, but what does it matter? read more...

What is B Hiding Beneath Her Tree?

Thu, 27 Nov 2008 08:51:33 -0800

Hey Queen-Westers,

Seen: R, shamelessly hocking products in the name of B. Why? It's that time of year again: chestnuts roasting in your plasma wall-mounted fireplace; Jack Frost nipping at your penthouse elevator door. And just when you thought this season of giving couldn't give any more, this Gossip Girl stumbled on the personal wish list of Upper East Side queen bee Blair Waldorf. Love headbands more than your Mom? Girlhate your bestest for being prettier than you? Here's a little something special to bury your rich girl pain. read more...

Party like Paris, not Toronto

Wed, 5 Nov 2008 15:14:01 -0800

My sincere apologies, city-doers, for my slacking and your lacking of imperative celebrity gossip amidst something about an election. I assure you my absence and this tardy column is due to a series of spooky soirees and fabulous fashion galas, and not piles of (literal and figurative) wasted hours watching Paris Hilton find a new BFF. Either way, partying like Paris ensues. Finally using elementary school’s damn little Ws, a few party tips guaranteed to make you tipsy read more...

Double doubles, toils and troubles

Mon, 20 Oct 2008 14:21:59 -0700

Maybe it’s the orange mystery punch that makes your legs tingle, but there’s something spookily superb about Halloween. Just when nothing seemed scarier than your Thanksgiving leftover family rage, this wicked rules-free slutfest reminds us mere mortals how holidays should be: drug-fuelled, full-mooned (you know what I mean), novelty costume-clad and drenched in fake blood. And what’s even creepier than your Lindsay Lohan costume? This week’s 13 celebrity truths scarier than any spooky Halloween story… read more...

Who wants to be the VP?

Mon, 6 Oct 2008 08:10:19 -0700

Though I try to stick to jabs and stabs at my celebrity friends, never before has the line between politics and celebrity been as blurry as a Madonna covershoot. (I’ve saved you the pleasure of myself donning the pantsuit ensemble, but rest assured there’s a rifle in my pocket.) If the mere presence of bikini-clad gun-totin’ VP wannabe Sarah Palin makes you think Ashton Kutcher is hiding behind the podium, you’re not alone. If you believe Hilary is to Sarah as Nicole is to Paris, you’re halfway there. And if you dug this week’s debate way more than Wife Swap but a little less than America’s Next Top Model, you’re ready. read more...

Rock Me, Tina

Wed, 24 Sep 2008 08:35:42 -0700

Dear Ms. Fey,

Congrats on your sweet Golden Globe, SAG and now Emmy hat trick, a feat unheard of since last year’s Ugly Betty (though you did it without braces). Your razor wit and new-baby cleavage make you a true inspiration to glasses-wearing women everywhere. 30 Rock is an ironic postmodernist masterpiece that’s like way better than The Office. The only thing missing: Me. read more...

What if? at Tiff

Thu, 11 Sep 2008 15:24:35 -0700

Though I hate to be a hater (just kidding; I love it), I can't lie: I have a tiff with TIFF. Maybe it's a little love/hate, as the swag seems sweet and I did one year touch Matt Dillon's bulging bicep. But come the light of day, the swag's revealed as ten pounds of ads and one turd-like organic energy bar. I vaguely recall Matt refusing to sign a ripped pack of Belmonts (asshole). My head hurts from those damn little cans of champagne, and I know tonight is another long lineup of wannabe starfuckers and yet no starfucking. So here, some fantasy 'tude for thought while your feet bleed into your pumps. read more...

I'm Tired of Rumours Starting; I'm Sick of Being Followed

Fri, 29 Aug 2008 15:05:23 -0700

Maybe it’s my (and yours, don’t deny it) inner teen-girl sleuth. Maybe it was my impressionable age when the Richard Gere gerbil story scurried about Hollywood’s dirty minds. Maybe it’s because Michael and LaToya do look exactly the same when you’re not wearing your glasses. But seriously though, I heard from a chick that knows a dude that all celebrity rumours are true, effing awesome, and a surefire way to secure a spot in Hollywood history. Here, a guide to making n’ faking your own timeless tale in tinsel town.

Firstly, the gay rumour: so truly fabulous that it’s gay not to have one. Everyone who’s anyone has a persistent homo cloud – or is that a rainbow? – following them from casual chai tea outings to the bright lights of the Mamma Mia sing-a-long premiere. Leading closet crusaders include the omniscient Oprah Winfrey and her bat-shit crazy friend Tom Cruise (though I hear it’s not gay if it’s Scientology). Musicians are especially susceptible: Whitney Houston laughs off lesbo whispers with crack addiction (it’s whack, yo), Clay Aiken and Ricky Martin can hardly artificially inseminate a female gamete without eyes rolling, David Bowie and Mick Jagger can’t even have hot gay 70s sex without arousing suspicion backstage. (By suspicion, I mean arousal; and by backstage, I mean in my dream last night.) read more...