Well, if Katie Holmes Cruise haulin' out by her lonesome and Hollywood bad boys turning normally good girls bitchy ain’t enough, we got that always cantankerous, cutup snarkfest, i.e., the mail bag, to get to! Read it and raunchy reap!
“She said no personal questions. If anyone asks relationship questions, she’ll stop the interview.”
—Publicist at the Stride Gum holiday party at Goa, briefing reporters on what we could and could not ask. No, not Barbra Streisand or Madonna or even Katherine Heigl, but friggin’ Kristen Bell
My, my, how quickly the Veronica Mars gal has gone all Angelina Jolie-esque on the press lately. Wonder if it has anything to do with the fact that she’s been spending time with infamous bedding boy Dax Shepard? Why suddenly so coy, Krissy? Afraid we might ask about his reported randy Romeo ways?
Eh, since Santa’s coming soon, we decided to be on our best behavior and heed the gal’s wishes (i.e., demands). Instead, we queried Kristen about Dave Annable, her cutie cohost with the most. Too darling, right? They were doing interviews together and had quite a rapport going. Old BFFs or something?
“We actually go way back...to last month,” Dave joked. “We met through a friend.”
“It’s a very small city...” Kristen added. “Especially when I’m in her bushes across from her apartment! Very small,” Dave interjected. Dave, already taking alternative courting classes from Mr. Shepard? How very odd, indeed.
Annable continued: “It becomes a lot smaller of a city when I see her everyday. She might not see me, but I see her.” Whatev. Any New Year's plans, perhaps?
“Something low-key,” Kristen chimed in. “I haven’t decided yet, but something very low-key.”
With Dax, one assumes. Drink lotso bubbly, g-f (you'll need it).
“I’m going for something very big-key,” Dave quipped. Behind a very big shrub, we’re certain.
And hiding behind every friggin’ topiary they could find at Hell-Ay’s Grove shopping mall last weekend were staring tourist eyes galore. Everybody in the overhyped joint was doing their bestest to pretend they weren't hypersalivating over Katie Holmes Cruise walking her Suri around like they were a coupla ordinary suburban cuties from Ohio.
K donned skinny jeans, hot black boots and a darling, oversize cowl-neck beige sweater that certainly could have been hiding something, and we don’t mean Tom.
No security guards. Lovely. Angelina and brood they are most definitely not.
Don’t you think the recent Ryan Phillippe and Abbie Cornish pictures with his kids put a new angle to the reason why Reese created the showmance with Jake? She wanted to be perceived as the one who moved on first and didn’t want to be seen as the victim.
New York City
Dear Nice Try:
Southern sasser (privately, never publicly) Reese is far from a passive victim in all of these postdivorce doings, we assure you. General Witherspoon is more like it. And we suspect it’s not for the strategic reasons you propose, Mare, but good effort, fer sure!
Heather Mills isn't (or shouldn't be!) addressed as Lady Heather—either now or after her divorce. According to peerage rules, she is Lady McCartney and would only be addressed as Lady Heather if she had a title of her own, not just a husband with one. Just thought you'd like to clear that completely inconsequential matter up!
Albany, New York
Dear Royal Bone:
As I would, babe-poo. Thanks ever so.
Did Diddy design your new Website motif? I felt like I needed to slip in a fake gold tooth and wear oversize gold chains while visiting it. Whiffs of a middle-aged person wearing a low-rise miniskirt and boots with dangling pom-poms?
Albany, New York
Dear Pom-Pom Police:
Two things, hon: (1) What’s my newest installment of randy readers, i.e., Desk Albany? (2) Does the site read Tedcasablanca.com? No. These are not my decisions.
When I saw that photo of Paris in the Dec. 5 column, at first (and second) I thought it was Ellen Barkin. Do you think Paris or Ellen would be more insulted by my mistake?
Dear Puffed Up:
Neither. Kathy Hilton’s who you’ll have to answer to, sweets, so sorry.
Paris and Nicole are Princess Di-esque, as you say? Ohmigod. Don't say that too seriously, luv. Princess Di was a class act and loved by many. Hilton is, at best, an extremely cheap imitation who's just looking for publicity and is disliked by just as many.
Dear Don't Be So Sure:
Conniving Di wasn’t exactly beloved all the way round, either, hon-pie—and we’re not referring to just the damning Royal clan.
I have a request. Is there any way, maybe once per month, you could feature a Toothy Tile Thursday in which you choose about 10 questions from readers and answer those questions in one comprehensive, albeit coded, retort? By the way, I found a common thread among Shia LaBeouf, The Rock and Steven Weber.
Dear Baiting for Toothy:
I’ll think about, hon, not a bad idea at all. And what’s the common thread, dying to know?
Thank you for shedding light on the animal-rights double standard in La-La Land. As a dog lover, I was very pleased with your take.
Grosse Pointe, Michigan
Dear Critter Cheerer:
Thanks, very much appreciated.
I bet Dimply Pimply from last week’s Mini Blind is Donovan Patton from Blues Clues. Am I right?
Dear Young Pickin':
Nope, but you’re so close, your clues are red-hot!
Pricey Dicey from One Keep-On-Truckin’ Blind Vice? Is he Hugh Jackman, 2004 Emmy winner and star of short-lived crazy series Viva Laughlin?
Dear Flush and Bust:
Although Pricey does have a regular gig on the small screen, he’s not as well-known as Hugh-stuff.
Just saw a pic of Katie Holmes' new haircut. How much Prozac is that girl on? She used to look so cute, now she looks like Vampira!
Harbor City, California
Darling, you sure you’re not popping pills? Katie’s never looked better.
I'm guessing Pricey Dicey is Jimmy Smits. He has über-Emmy wins and nods. His show is doing only okay, and if I saw him on the streets, I'd probably be just as vague: "Isn't that that guy from TV?"
New York City
Dear NYPD Untrue:
Afraid you’re way off, child. Jimmy’s more known for the drama type TV stuff, while Pricey Dicey does less serious fare.
Would Mr. Pricey Dicey be Jeremy Piven?
Dear Pointin' at Pivs:
No, but they both do have one very distinctive thing in common.
Popeye Paris has been absent from your column for a while, for which I AM ETERNALLY GRATEFUL TO YOU. It was a blessed relief not to have to read about her. I was suffering severe P.H. fatigue (PHatigue, in medical lingo). Where was she? Asia? Can't she go back and stay there?
Dear UPPERCASE Case:
Please accept our condolences upon her recent return.
Pricey Dicey has to be Howie Mandel. Kinda cute, always funny and his show is a gamble! I will know it is true if you don't print this!
Dear No Deal:
Since when is Howie Mandel cute? Wrong!
Okay, what's up with all the starlets lately and their ginormous lips?
Dear Jolie Jumper:
Bitch, bitch, bitch. You’d prefer their boobs? And where’s the penis-implant patrol, already? Can we at least start examining a celeb bod part that isn’t so been there, dissed that?