PrivacyWatch celebrity sightings are submitted by our readers, and are posted several times a week, so send them in often. Submit yours to tips[AT]defamer.com (please put "sighting" or "PrivacyWatch" in the subject line) and tell everyone about how you're still recovering from catching a glimpse of Courtney Love's midriff on a Hollywood sidewalk.
Recovering perfection addict Courtney Love (who recently combined forces with one of the world's most talented airbrush artists for this NSFW nude portfolio in Pop Magazine) has told the music website Spinner.com she's tired of holding on to Kurt Cobain's mildew-gathering collection of grungy sweaters, flannel shirts, novelty sunglasses, and the like, and has decided to put the entire collection up for auction at Christie's:
We all know that perpetually embattled songstress-natureforce Courtney Love has shed a few pounds recently by some means or other. ("No doctor would do gastric bypass, even if I begged. No lipo, no gastric, no tummy tuck. I can't believe how cynical people are," she told Us Weekly. Us neither!) Now, she's shedding her old large stuff, like this pair of size 8 Marc Jacobs pink and black pinstripe pants, via eBay. Sure, $99 seems like a lot to pay for a pair of slacks that have contained Courtney Love, but all proceeds go to the Chrysalis Organization, an organization that helps homeless people and ex-cons find jobs. It turns out that Courtney Love is a big humanitarian! Well, not as big as she used to be.
· Apprentice firee Kristin Lefebvre is headed to Playboy. We were kind of hoping they'd get Heidi, but we suppose this will do for now.
· Chuck Woolery has no choice but to drop the f-bomb. [via BWE]
· L.A.'s Dopest Attorney gets a development deal. Happy 420 Day!
· Courtney Love shakes a debilitating perfection addiction.
· You can say all the mean things you like about Tara Reid, but you can never take away the dignity that comes with trying to cram a pair of mammoth, surgically enhanced breasts into a too-small bikini top.
· Also: Looks like Reid lent Courtney Love her old stomach.
· Hilary Swank fondly recalls the time she got out of a speeding ticket because she was a Good Samaritan, not because the officer in question was a starfucker.
· Starbucks cups revealed to be an excellent place to stash your drugs without detection.
· The KITT up for auction's not street legal, but it's still a total pussy wagon if you can lure an aging Knight Rider fan back to your garage.
· Bravo decides it's still too soon for old Anna Nicole jokes.
· Can't someone do a good horse-fucking movie without getting all socially responsible about it?
When a judge sent Courtney Love to rehab in the summer of 2005 after violating her probation with various drug and assault pleas, she chose Newport Beach's Beau Monde Programs, where she spent three months being pampered back to sobriety through a full immersion into its rigorous 12-step program. ("Step 1: Slip into this luxurious robe. Step 2: Choose Shiatsu or traditional Swedish..." etc.) Beau Monde is still waiting on payment for her $181,286 bill, and filed a complaint March 1, available for your perusal, in addition to a copy of her signed admission agreement, at The Smoking Gun. Addressed to Love's criminal lawyer, Howard Weitzman, and Warren Boyd, her "personal addiction counselor," it's now up to her overworked team to figure out the best way to settle this unpleasantness, short of forcing her to sell off the rights to "Rape Me" to Progressive Auto Insurance for their edgy new "Don't get raped. Choose Progressive." TV and print campaign.
In Court's own, uh, we guess we'll call them "words":
As much as we cherished the idea of Courtney Love perpetrating the first physical act of judge-on-contestant violence (excepting, of course, those moments when Ryan Seacrest gets handsy with the shoulders of inconsolable male contestants) as the newest member of the American Idol team, we knew deep in our hearts that a wave of denials about an alleged offer to join the show was in the offing. Idol mastermind Nigel Lythgoe's statement that he never made a recruitment pitch to Love has Us Weekly backing slowly away from yesterday's item, while Love herself, in her trademarked agrammatical fashion, rambles at length on her website about how Us molested her (we think; it's all so terribly confusing) in its quest for controversy [via Tabloid Whore] :
In a development that should shake the world of hugely popular televised karaoke competitions to its very, off-key-warbling, deluded-contestant-abusing core, Us Weekly reports that rocker-turned-general-use-famous-person Courtney Love has received The Call from American Idol's producers, inviting her to hold forth on the lack of musical ability on display at the planet's favorite talent show of the damned:
While we've made it a policy to never make New Year's resolutions, accepting that we will make the same mistakes over and over again and are powerless to change the self-destructive behavior that will eventually result in a grisly doom, we recognize that some people need the injection of soul-lifting positivity that compiling such an inventory of well-intentioned goals can provide. Today's Rush & Molloy column reprints a number of the 53 resolutions that Promises Malibu Platinum Club member Courtney Love posted to her website, which can serve as a blueprint for anyone wishing to improve themselves in the coming year through misspelled declarations of self-empowerment:
What a remarkable coincidence! That's the exact same resolution we made! Well, not really; ours, as you know, had to do with not making any more bullet-pointed lists. Courtney Love's resolutions, all 53 of which were posted on her website, MoonWashedRose.com (Stevie Nicks already had the CrushedVelvetPentagram domain, damn her) are in the form of just such a list. They're pretty reasonable, if a little Lohanny in the spelling department:
If you've thrilled to the cultural tipping point known as Courtney Love's book Dirty Blonde, then you'll be chilled to see the long-awaited nude author photos finally surfacing in a "fashion" shoot for Britmag Pop. We hate to present this as the first item of the day, but really, if you click through and look, don't expect any sympathy from us. Super-duper NSFW.
· The arrival of these photos has been threatened for a while, but Courtney Love finally shows off the new girls.
O.J.'s book and TV special might be canceled, but at least we still have If I Did It! The Musical to satisfy all of our hypothetical murder explanation needs.
With all the chokings and inadvertent outings out of their system, the cast of Grey's Anatomy is once again a happy family.
"Daaaaad, shut up! The inflamed liver totally went away once I stopped drinking an entire bottle of Grey Goose in one sitting."
· Quite frankly, the C-list Serial Killer isn't working nearly fast enough.
Two early-30s New York Magazine contributing editors, two strikingly similar reviews of 'Dirty Blonde' — one in the mag, one in this weekend's NYT Book Review.
First, the confession of fandom:
Ariel Levy: "For this I love Courtney Love. Oh that's right, I sometimes think when I hear her, her music is actually really different, and really good."
Emily Nussbaum: "Her 1994 album "Live Through This" was the first rock I'd ever heard that really focused on women, with lyrics about breast-feeding and rape and competition, but done with humor and a nutsy aggression rare among female performers. I listened to it about 50 times."
But what's Love's big failing?
Put on your reading glasses, because it's time for another literary journey into the highbrow world of Courtney Love, via her "book," Dirty Blonde. Now, maybe you've seen the documentary and you think you know all there is to know about Kurt and Courtney's relationship. Well, do you know Courtney's innermost, most high-sounding and disjointed thoughts about it? Ok, maybe. Well, do you know what Frances Bean's first word was? Not unless you've traveled with us past the jump.
Ah, it's time again for our periodic exercise in fake erudition, made even faker this time by the fact that the book we're leafing through together is barely a book at all. No, it's Courtney Love's diary-thing, which, where it's legible, is fascinating in a perverse way. Lucky for you, we're good at deciphering Courtney Love's handwriting — it's one of our useless talents, right up there with being able to fit our entire fist into our mouth. Annnnyway. After the jump, C. Love engages in some J. Frey random Capitalization and we do our laughing at it thing.
