CELEBRITY NEWS

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So you ever had an ex that just kept coming back and coming back? This older, not aging, but good looking B list actress on a hit network show (years wise but maybe not popularity wise) has just that problem. Who knows why she was with the guy (actor/jackass/whiner) in the first place, but it was a long time ago. Over the years he has been back for money and favors. Money mostly. She really did not start getting BIG money until a few years ago. When she got her show, here came the ex. He always needed money for something. Always had a new project in the works and would pay her back. They had no baby connection or anything to keep them in touch but he did. Even when he was in a relationship, he would always be there and always making promises. Well recently, our actress ran into some money problems of our own and called her ex. He had a new thing going now and this should be payback time. When she called he told her to never call again and that he had nothing to say. He said the money she gave him was a gift and if she thought it was a loan, then she was even more stupid than he remembered. Now he was back on top and was going to stay there while she would go right back to the bottom where she belonged.

Touching isn’t it?

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Return of the Mack

You better believe that when the opportunity to drop a Mark Morrison line presents itself I always take advantage.

Uncle Russell put some sweet moves on a mystery woman at his private party at Lima Lounge in Washington, DC. I know there are a few ladies out there reading this with the look of disappointment written across their face. Don’t fret, there is enough of Russell to go around.

Can you tell it’s a slow news day yet?

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Chuck Palahniuk’s latest book, Rant: An Oral Biography of Buster Casey, is out in bookstores today. And this is me telling y’all you ought to be reading Mr. Palahniuk’s work, if ya ain’t already. Moriarty at AICN gave Rant a smashing good review, saying:

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Gisele Bundchen has parted ways with Victoria’s Secret and will no longer be the lead angel after contract negotiations broke down. Allegedly, Gisele’s demands were too outrageous.

The Brazilian mannequin is giving up her wings as lead angel for the lingerie giant because it wouldn’t up her $5 million-a-year salary. Her sister, Patricia Bundchen, confirmed to Brazilian Web site Glamurana that contract talks had broken off. “Her demands were outrageous. She got a new lawyer who was unrealistic,” said a source. “Victoria’s Secret doesn’t care. They have five new hotter, younger girls debuting next year. And they won’t have to deal with any craziness.”

$5 million a year to walk up and down a runway seems a little ridiculous. Give me $2 million and I’ll walk it myself. Just give me a diamond studded thong and I’ll give you the greatest show ever. A little pelvic thrust here, a little pelvic thrust there and a mighty pelvic thrust right there will leave the audience cheering for more. I suggest you bolt the chairs to the ground because I promise you people will be blown away. There will even be that lady in a mink coat clutching a cigarette holder who’ll put her hand to her head and faint dramatically.

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Coachella was stupendous. Let’s start off with two tickets and no friends. Went through my entire phonebook, careful to make each prospect think they were the first and only person I’d invited. I knew they would find out the truth, but I feel warm and safe in my blanket of lies.

Finally found someone who cancelled her whole weekend but had to pick her up in Pasadena so we got on the road at about three on Friday and were resigned to our fate.

Traffic was booking at about two to fifteen miles an hour giving us plenty of time to listen to the two cd’s I’d brought, (my brand new ipod still boxed in the trunk,) and take in-focus pictures of interesting motorists. The first was this:

Oh yeah, Buddy, we want to be just like you, cool car, stuffed animals, the whole package.

The second was a pickup truck with a message on the gate: “This falls open,” so of course we had to tempt fate and tailgate him until he foiled us with his evasive genius.

Got there eight hours later, went to the celeb suite to pick up the tickets, and arrived in time to miss Interpol completely. Bjork was terrific, however. I’d never seen her live before and not only does her”Sank you!” sound like she’s sneezing, I thought she sang to synthetic dance music but she had an entire orchestra and had this dance that looked like her body was making all the sounds.

We met up with a friend who said he didn’t have any accommodations either. “Yeah, where are WE staying?” my friend asked. OOOOOOooooh yeah. Minor detail. So we piled into my convertible- both my guests standing on the one seat belting Paula Abdul’s “Straight Up,” and cut off about two hours of disgruntled drivers in our escape. It was shitty, but not half so shitty as the time I drooled in a wheelchair with a chicken hat on so I didn’t have to wait in lines at 6 Flags Great America. I know, I’m going straight to hell, do not pass go, but I was a kid, so it was funny.

My friend ended up calling her mom who hooked us up at Desert Hot Springs where she used to run a nudist colony. The receptionist was a stressed out heavy breather who yelled at me twice to MOVE MY PURSE OFF THE COUNTER! I thought he was going to have a heart attack right there. My guy friend took the nudist thing seriously and stripped upon entry, but he has a nice body so it was okay.

I think the caveman from those Geico commercials was in the jacuzzi but I couldn’t get a picture of him either because it was dark and I couldn’t use flash accidentally on someone that strange, and there was no way I was getting in there with his cooties.

The next day we went back to the celeb suite to pick up our passes and I did an interview of rainbows and sunshine praising Coachella and the people sponsoring the celeb suite and blah blah blah. As soon as I’m done, the PR girl says, “Oh. We didn’t think you were coming back. We don’t have any passes for you today, but we can probably get some for tomorrow.” I just stared at her for about five seconds trying to keep calm. I had just shelled out mad cash to the heavy breather for the caveman hotel merely to see my favorite band Travis, who was performing in 20 minutes.

“So,” I said, choosing my words carefully, “When your boss told me I had passes for all three days,” Oh fuck it. “She WAS LYING?!” “Well, we’ll try to find some passes for you. Why don’t you just relax and have a drink?”"I’ll wait right here.” I was kind of blocking the entrance with my black, seething energy, but she found one pass and I strung it on my FRIEND’S wrist. (This is key. They definitely would have told my friend to wait for me back at the Caveman.) It was shocking, however, how fast they were able to produce another pass. Was not fast enough, only saw Travis’ last song, but it was golden honey and a friend got me tickets to see them in San Francisco if the logistics are not too complicated. I was going to stay in Sacramento and make a weekend of it, but that truck driver who demolished the bridge really pissed on my parade.

We saw Kings of Leon, great plus the singer’s a babe, and Red Hot Chili Peppers, epic.

We went back to the celeb suite and met two very nice guys who were impressed with the pile of pork ribs I was putting away. I don’t think my eating is really that spectacular, but enough people have commented on it this week, I really must be a goop. I went in the pool because I had my bathing suit in my purse and how could I not, but mid-dive, changed my mind to save the hair and doused the whole party. On our way out, one of the hosts told us, “Drive safe.”"Oh. I will. I’m sober.”He winked, “Yeah right.”

We started to drive and my car almost careened into a row of parked cars, it was listing so hard to the left. When I got out, wouldn’t you know, I had a flat tire. At the service station when we were putting air into it, that tell tale hiss told us we were toast, but when I started freaking, “I just bought these motherfucking things, they’re fucking brand fucking, fucking new,” these two guys came up and asked if they could help. I said, “Sorry for that temper tantrum but I JUST FUCKING BOUGHT THE MOTHERFUCKERS!” I kicked the tire and hurt my toe but then pulled it together and thanked them sweetly for their help.

Next day, drove around Desert Hot Springs to five repair shops that had been closed for ten years and finally found one with my guardian angel who fixed it for free on the hot pavement in 105 degree weather.

Came back Sunday and saw Air, and all five songs were amazing. They were a little late. Wish I had known they would be ’cause I would’ve planned the hour I spent in the port-a-potties accordingly, but we met these super nice Mobile Alabamans and took awesome pictures with them.

When we were watching Rage Against the Machine, there were two burly dudes who asked this will o’ the wisp to go up on their shoulders. My friend said, “I’ll go,” and was hoisted up. She somehow missed the piggyback style and was sitting ON his one shoulder straddling his head. When he jumped around, she humped his face and her pants fell down and I kept putting things in her butt crack ’til she mooned me. Then on the dismount, something happened and the burly guy accidentally punched her in the face and she got a bloody nose. We don’t like angry music anyway so we traded e-mails with the Alabamans and missed traffic.

So yesterday, I got fitted for a pregnancy suit and went bed shopping because I think I lost my virginity on the one I have now, and I bought it secondhand in Chinatown and someone else probably did too. Today I’m going to a lunch with a producer to play a flight attendant in an airplane comedy. Wish me luck!

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Scarlett Johansson appeared onstage at Coachella with the reunited Jesus and Mary Chain and lent her sultry pipes to “Just Like Honey”.

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