Four items for you this morning, featuring your usual cavalcade of closeted gents and obsessive ladies, plus an 'Old Hollywood' blind item for you nostalgia-prone folk out there. Enjoy, after the jump.
So just to recap, the consensus seemed to be that the relapsed actor from yesterday's blind items was Robert Downey Jr. Which is sad! I hope it's not him and just some other recently sober and successful movie star who everyone's talking about... Sigh. It's totally him. Ah well, on to the next. A cocaine-crazed Hollywood actress and an actor who let his masseur get very friendly with him are after the jump.
I woke up this morning to both my cat and my dog standing on my bed pawing at my face. I guess they were hungry. I didn't mind though. I haven't been touched while in bed since the Carter administration! Oh, hi there. Sorry. Was just practicing my Catskills routine. I'm thinking of starting a new life up there. Yup. Just me and some old ladies. Oh, and some blind items of course. Always blind items. Today we have a relapsed movie star, a guy with a mullet, and a request for special toilet paper, all after the jump.
It's 1986 again! I feel like listening to "Hip to Be Square" or "Lady In Red," or going to see Aliens or Farrah Fawcett in that grim dud Extremities. Oh, and I suppose they also had blind items in 1986. Let's hope because I have six, count 'em six, waiting for you after the jump. Overprotective moms, seductive publicists, and banana-hammocks all await you. Rock me, Amadeus!
Hello from cloudy Boston. I'll be reporting live from the hub of the universe all week, as I attend the first annual Dog Sit For Your Parents While They're in Vancouver Convention. Blind items are, of course, universal so I will still be posting them for your enjoyment. After the jump we've got one of Crazy Days and Nights' long tone poems about tweens, and an item that's probably some British lady you've never heard of. But we'll soldier on anyway. Even though I seem to have caught a cold. I doubt drinking for 12 hours in the pouring rain on Saturday had anything to do with that. (If it does, I blame on John Ehlers.) Go Celtics!
Naturally we couldn't ignore a blind item involving our favorite celebrity trend of the season, lesbian chic, that appeared in yesterday's NY Daily News. Especially when the item not only involves a starlet who dabbles in Lohan/Ronson-inspired games with the same sex, but also outs her bad boy boyfriend for helping her appear as straight as possible in the public eye. As the News asks today:
Happy belated Father's Day to all of you dads out there, especially to my own who went to go buy some eggs twenty-four years ago and never returned. I believe he's somewhere in the Yukon, riding the rails. A pity, because I could have used some fatherly advice over the years. For example, I never did learn how to shave. Though maybe the "hairy lothario," who woos women with the internet, could teach me. And maybe the celebrity chef, the secret lesbian, and the couple in the May-December romances, who all lie after the jump, could teach me something too.
Remember that episode of The Simpsons in which Mr. Burns builds the casino and becomes this crazy Howard Hughes-esque germaphobe and shut-in, letting his toe and fingernails grow long, keeping jars of urine and building the Spruce Moose ("I said [gun click] Hop. In.")? It's classic. Well the Entertainment Lawyer at Crazy Days and Nights has dug up some information on a celebrity couple that is a slightly tamer, modern day version of that terrible/hilarious character. The strange story is after the jump, as well as a bit about a newly Celibate Celebrity.
Friday is upon us once again! A giddy sense of possibility fills me, as I anticipate how I'll spend two spring days in New York City. Drinking without consequence! (Sort of! Not at all actually!) Gays in Astoria! Lunch in midtown! Museums! Though, realistically, I'll be in my underpants, on my couch, shamefully watching here! on demand. So that's kind of depressing. At least I have some blind items, after the jump, to keep my mind whirring with possibility over the next two lonely days.
Wouldn't it be funny if a celebrity read a blind item and didn't recognize that it was about themselves? And they wandered around all day, slightly musing about who it could be, trying to think if it could be any of their famous friends, maybe that TV actress they met at that dinner party the week before. She seems like the type. And then, all of a sudden, they're sitting at the Ivy ordering an iced tea and it dawns on them. "Wait a minute. What if I'm 'B-list'???" It would be interesting to watch. Three items are after the jump.
So I'm going to go see the Sex and the City movie tonight with a bunch of ladies and I'm a little embarrassed about it. I mean, look, I don't watch football or read Maxim, but even I've got a line. And Girl Power 3000 dates to the Lady Business movie seem a bit across that line. But, oh well, it's with good friends so it should be fun. In preparation I'm just going to spend today eating like two steaks and drinking some Bud and lifting heavy things and—oh fuck it—blind items!! Yay!! Bitchy!!!
Drugs and sex. Sex and drugs. And drinking. That's all it's ever about, and today is no exception. Shitfaced actors, coke-fueled father/son duos, and cheating spouses all abound in today's blind items. And it's enough to make one depressed about the state of American celebrity. They must be miserable! But then one remembers that these people are filthy stinking rich and any empathy one has disappears and one begins to feel like these people deserve all of their stupid problems because they have so much stupid money and can afford to have stupid problems and be stupid the rest of their lives. One may have just paid his rent.
There's a nifty collection of work gathering over at The Hollywood Temp Diaries, a new-ish blog that is pretty much exactly what it says it is. And while it's not quite the instant party promised by loathetastic blogging neophyte Peter Bart, we've taken to anticipating author "Temp X"'s weekly blind-item quizzes — the best of which has us furiously parsing out the TV exec dumb enough to give away ignorance about one of his/her own network's biggest hits. We hate to give away the real blind item from the writer's multiple-choice query, but curiosity wins out 10 times out of 10; follow the jump and place your bets:
New York mag's Daily Intel unfortunately publishes the Sex Diaries of various New Yorkers, which are usually nauseating and packed with way too much information. This week is no different, and everybody's trying to guess who the writer is: "Jewish Carrie: 32, single, Gramercy, editor and blogger, single-as-fuck, straight." Jewish Carrie/blogger leads a strange life: she's seeing someone called "Band Dude" and blogs about sex; her friend accuses her of "turning into Julia Allison."
I know, I can't concentrate either. The sure-to-be mind blowing, fanfuckingtastic season finale of Lost is only eleven short hours away and it's really just all I can think about. So you'll excuse me if I make this brief so I can go obsess some more. Today's blind items tell tales of escort services, possible gays, blowjobs, and British people who probably none of us have ever heard of. England! It's like some weird, mystical island where crazy things happen... See! There I go again.
Wednesday already! That's the great thing about a short week. Suddenly it's nearly over before it began. Though, it does me a bit anxious because I have one less day to do all the things I planned on doing before the weekend. Like, um... Uh. Catching... up on... Battlestar Galactica. And... [microphone feedback] OK! So I'm not that busy, but whatever. I could be busy. That's the point. In the end, though, I'm grateful for the short week and am looking forward to the last weekend (!) in May. Enjoy your Wednesday blind items, after the jump, even though they feel like Tuesday items.
Who doesn’t adore blind items? True, many are snoozy (“Which unmarried local newscaster is totally making out with his assistant!?!”), but when the sneaky item involves “rotund actresses,” “cocaine-fueled romps,” and name-calling on the level of “this beast,” we are all over it. In today’s NY Daily News, those lovable married gossips Rush & Molloy serve up one of the juiciest Just Askings we’ve seen in some time:
Shortest long weekend ever! Let's make every weekend three days (or, heck, four) so we can spend as much time as possible this summer walking on the beach or reading in a patch of sun or crying softly on the back porch while your sister stirs the lemonade in the kitchen angrily, pretending not to notice you. That way we'll have fewer days to deal with pesky blind items about celebrity pity sex and cocaine problems. Just like the two waiting for you after the jump.
Hello friends! It's a short day for us here at Gawker HQ (i.e. my bed), but we've still got time for some blind items. Who's a drug addict? Who's secretly a geigh? Who's cheating on his wife? It sounds like we're at a ten year high school reunion, but we are, in fact, talking about celebrities. Those rich rarefied types who hang out at weird places like the Chateau Marmont and Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf and handbag stores. Bizarro! Read about three celebrity antics (plus a snippet of one of Ted Casablanca's strange Aramaic incantations) after the jump.
