During my blogging hiatus this past week and the on-and-off schedule of the week before that, there was a lot going on in the celebrity world that I was unable to cover. I received messages from some of you requesting that I opine on these things when I got back, and I am of course only too happy to oblige.
Since these stories are getting stale, I figured merely recapping them would be pointless. Instead, I have decided to relay my thoughts on this decorous and tainted industry with a decidedly quaint and simple format: nursery rhymes.
First up would have to be Mel Gibson, who was recently revealed to be under the influence of both alcohol and Third Reich ideology. Unfortunately for Mel, the latter is one of two or three things that are actually still unacceptable even for celebrities; as a result, Gibson's public image is even more broken than a certain eggtastic nursery rhyme-con (yes, that's a nursery rhyme icon). So, please read this one to the tune of 'Humpty Dumpty:'
Mr. Mel Gibson got in his car
He was wasted as hell, so he didn't get far
Now all of the publicists and all the yes men
Can't put Mel's image together again.
Fun! OK, in other news, Lance Bass announced he was gay and surprised nobody. Closets are kind of like cupboards, so this one goes to the tune of "Old Mother Hubbard:"
An ex-boy-bander came out of the closet
To try and revive his career
So he told the whole world, and the world told him back:
"We already knew you were queer."
There has also been some controversy regarding Lindsay Lohan and another sketchy hospital trip, plus rumors of slacking off on her movie set, plus rumors about her being too much of a partier, etc. etc. The usual Lohan news. So here we go:
Peas Porridge Hot,
Peas Porridge Cold,
She's clearly on drugs,
Let's not waste my time here.
I mean, come on. Why should I put any effort into my rhyme when she can't be bothered to use a better excuse than "dehydration and exhaustion?"
. . . Moving on. You probably heard abut8 how Tori Spelling's mom is only giving her $00,000 of her Dad's $150+ million fortune. That's gotta sting. To make matters worse, Tori is pregnant too. I can only imagine she will be singing her newborn this lullaby in a few months:
Rock-a-bye baby, while I tell you the sitch,
Your onesie should be Prada,
But your Grandma's a bitch.
When that hag croaks, we better get paid,
Or you're getting potty
Trained on her grave.
Don't worry little baby, if Mommy does back-to-back VH1 reality shows for the rest of her life, you may just eke by yet!
Finally, it seems that Pam Anderson and Kid Rock have wisely opted to take the quiet, low-key route with their recent marriage. Just kidding! They've planned about five ceremonies. This one goes like Jack and Jill:
Pam and Kid Rock, have tied the knot
On a boat and in a courthouse
There'll be a few more, cuz Pam wants to be sure
She's Mrs. Bawitdaba
OK, I think we're all caught up at this point. And thank God, because I have been to way too many nursery rhyme websites today.
Message from Kelly:
Hickory Dickory Dock I don't feel like trying to format this anymore.
p.s. Lauren told me it was okay to quit
p.p.s. Lauren told me to write that
p.p.p.s. She spent the entirety of "Barefoot Contessa" (approx. 30 minutes) dictating how to format this over the phone and, in the process, used almost all her cell phone minutes.
Update from Lauren:
I could no longer stand the twitching, so I went in and reformatted everything, but thanks to Kelly for posting this up while I had no Internet. You're the best.