Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie's handlers can go through the public charade of booking the couple into separate hotels until Mr. and Mrs. Smith opens, but they can't stop the couple from indiscreetly ordering room service to replenish their energy levels for another round of filthy, furniture-rattling hotel porking. Says Page Six:
In an effort to focus on their upcoming movie and diffuse some of the tabloid heat generated by their recent African sex safari and Moroccan sex-bazaar quickies, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie's handlers have booked them in separate hotels (such is the power of their sexual attraction that Pitt would drill a glory-hole in the wall with his genitals if they were housed in adjoining rooms) during a New York jaunt for some TV appearances. And just so everyone knows their people aren't fucking around about playing coy with the couple's relationship, Pitt's publicist broke the glass on her Emergency Flack Kit :
We noticed this raging debate on the tabloid racks while buying our Sunday morning bottle of Mad Dog.
Why does US Weekly insist on tearing asunder what In Touch and Oprah are trying so hard to build?
· Scarlett Johansson says she's not Woody Allen's new muse. Perhaps she's afraid that Allen will steal away their adopted daughter and enter into a taboo sexual relationship with her. Hey, there are crazier things to be afraid of.
· Renny Harlin, by the numbers. And the numbers ain't pretty.
· Brad Pitt totally says stuff about women whom have had his penis inside them.
· Crash, Crash, Kicking and Screaming, and Kicking & Screaming: it only seems like there are only two movie titles left.
Lost in all the excitement over Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie's public sex tour through the jungles of Africa and Moroccan bazaars is the psychological effect a single mother's relationship can have on a child, especially one who's been saved from a Cambodian orphanage and transported to the fast-paced world of Hollywood. If young Maddox doesn't one day wind up clutching a sniper rifle atop the Paramount water tower, consider it a miracle.
Fresh off their hot, African safari of sexual sex-making that inspired locals to fear a lion-mauling took place in their bungalow, new Hollywood golden couple (sorry, Cruise-Holmes!) Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie embarked on an erotic thrill-ride through Morocco, where Pitt is starting to shoot Babel. Rush and Molloy say People will say:
Not surpisingly, Brad Pitt and Angelina's Sexy African Beach Romp of Sexual Sex was not comprised entirely of chaste sand-castle construction and the babysitting of Cambodian adoptees. There was fucking involved. Oh, was there fucking! The kind of fucking that has guards scrambling for their machetes, ready to dispatch whatever animal was loudly mauling a guest at their resort. Star magazine gets the goods:
According to a People magazine poll (typing those words just shook loose a blood vessel in our brain), the public has drooled its assent for the sexual conjoining of Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie by voting them the Most Beautiful of all the 50 Most Totally Beautifulest Peoples In All The World. Jolie's already telling adorable stories about her lovah in the rag:
In a shocking turn of events that nobody possibly could have seen coming, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie were photographed together while on a Shocking! Sex-tryst! In! Africa! (So alarmingly carnal was their sexual safari that Maddox Jolie was along to chaperone.) Photos of the couple's bumpy Jeep ride through the sweat-drenched jungles of passion appeared in the British Sun and are headed to US Weekly (rumored pricetag: five kajillion dollars and a dozen poached elephant tusks), but are already streaming through the internets. Don't stare too long on the bronzed bodies of the two sand-encrusted lovers, lest your retinas be seared by their smoldering genitals.
· Not content to revel in Britney Spears' impending motherhood? Maybe you'd enjoy the baby talk more if these other celebrities got themselves knocked up.
· Orlando Bloom cries on Brad Pitt's shoulder, and a million mental guy-on-guy pornos are born.
· Director Todd Solondz doesn't appreciate being called a misanthrope. He's a sensitive type at heart.
· The Fug girls finally drive frequent fug punching bag Courtney Peldon to cutting.
· Not even house arrest can stop Martha Stewart from winning awards.
A couple of stories of note from the weekend, which were not nearly compelling enough to halt our three-day Easter egg hunt:
April Florio, the Maxim girl who was photographed with Brad Pitt in Greece, is clearly confused about the standard Hollywood "obscure model has sex with A-list movie star in exchange for fleeting notoriety" transaction:
· Tonight's utterly manufactured must-see TV moment: Stealthily gay Bachelorette contestant Fabrice, outed by TVGasm weeks ago, will reveal his "big secret" on the show tonight. Oooh, whatever could it be? Did he kill a guy?
· Dying to know exactly what's going to crawl across the screen at the beginning of this summer's new Star Wars movie? We know you are. [via BoingBoing]
· Hey, what happened to the "I Stole Brad" t-shirt site? Mysterious...
· This just in: Actors seeking new and exciting ways to throw away their money love them some poker.
· A dummy at CNN provides tabloids with easy "no respect" jokes.
Some might say that the internet exists solely to streamline the distribution of porn and t-shirts that capitalize on the celebrity scandal du jour. Submitted for your approval: The "I Stole Brad" t-shirt, available for purchase before Jennifer Aniston has even unpacked a box at her hairdresser's house, and soon to appear by the dozens at a nightclub near you. The line also includes "The New Mrs. Pitt" and the wordier, far less effective "Brad Left Jen For Me." We won't be happy until the corresponding male shirt is availaible: "Of COURSE I fucked Angelina!"
With so much rumor and innuendo swirling around in the wake of Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston's celebrity-marriage-paradigm-shifting break-up, there's only one place we can turn for reliable information: Jennifer Aniston's MySpace blog. While the couple has refrained from talking to the media, virtual Jen (449 friends in her network, a celebrity even in cyberspace) is candid about the dissolution of their relationship and their plans for the future:
· In about three weeks, the home video rights for Alexander will probably sell for less than its soundtrack promo at Amoeba.
· Behold, another strange intersection of Jeffrey Katzenberg and the porn industry.
· We're almost ready to officially recognize the Curse of the Entertainment Weekly Must List
· If you haven't seen this by now, you haven't been properly utilizing the power of the interweb.
· It's a cliché to use this formulation, and we've never been afraid of beating a dead horse, so here goes: Slate's Movie Club is for pussies. Bloggers do it better at The Conversation
· Should we be offended that Brad will only talk about his life with the Japanese?
· Based on this one segment alone, it seems that there's no way that the new season of Ali G will be less than amazing.
