FIVE STAGES OF GRIEF

Twitterers Mourn The Death of 'CWalken,' Pray For A Resurrection

LIKE ANY UNEXPECTED DEATH, 'CWalken's sudden demise on Twitter is evoking myriad reactions from his grief-stricken fans.

"I continue my no ice cream silent protest of the @cwalken suspension," writes bitchmobile. "I miss ice cream. My quality of life is being affected."

On more than 100 pages of commentary -- a virtual visitor's book at a wake, if you will -- fans of the 'CWalken' tweeter lament in classic reactions the loss of their daily dose of droll.

There is denial: "Cwalken wasn't real?," asks Derek_Barnes. "I'm so sad!!!"

There is anger: "Hates that dumb skank whose investigation caused twitter to take down the cwalken tweet[s]," vents Feenomite. "I hope she gets ass herpes." (For the record, Crabby is unclear as to the identity of "that dumb skank.")

There is bargaining: "People, rally the troops, saddle up, do what you can," commands BringBackCWalken.

There is depression: "After finding out the cwalken profile was fake -- nothing else matters," bemoans someonesaveus.

And, for a few, there is acceptance: "Faretheewell, @cwalken," writes carondele. "You were a strange and entertaining read while it lasted."

And for those who believe in miracles, Crabby reminds us that Easter approaches with its promise of resurrection: Surely 'cwalken' will live once again on a Saturday Night Live skit? At the very least, we can be sure we will hear from him again in book form compliments of a New York publisher.

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March 31, 2009

ENTITLED

Somebody Give Gisele Lessons On What Not To Say

TOM BRADY'S NEW BRIDE GISELE BUNDCHEN is interviewed in the upcoming Vanity Fair during which she reveals that she feels like her hubby's son is her own child.

"I understand that he has a mom, and I respect that, but to me, it's not like because somebody else delivered him, that's not my child -- I feel it is, 100 percent," she reportedly says.

What a dotty-headed thing to say! That does not sound like respect to me.

Could she want to alienate her hubby's ex-beau any more than she already has? She stole the prize. Now she's claiming her son?

Now none of us will be surprised when further custody battles ensue for John, with whom the NFL quarterback had with actress Bridget Moynahan. The couple share custody of the boy conceived shortly before Moynahan and Brady broke up.

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March 30, 2009

FILLING THE VOID

Malawi Asks: Is Madonna A Fit Mom For Our 'Mercy?'

AFTER A QUICKIE DIVORCE FROM GUY RITCHIE (and a quickie relationship with A Rod and another one with model Jesus Luz), Madonna is apparently looking for something else to fill the hole in her soul -- the chance to adopt a second child from Malawi.

Madge arrived in Malawi on Sunday to begin the adoption process for a little girl named Chifundo Mercy James, reported to be anywhere from 18 months to 4 years old, who lives in the same orphanage as David previously did. The pop icon appeared in court this morning for a hearing on the adoption of a little girl called "Mercy," but the hearing was adjourned until the end of the week.

Madonna's quest has prompted the charity group
Save The Childrento publicly ask Madonna to reconsider her decision because of concerns that adopting children internationally encourages poor families to abandon their youth, and feeds the motivations of unsavory child traffickers.

The little girl's
family at first was reluctant to get the little girl go -- "It is stealing. I won't let her go,"' the girl's grandmother said last week -- but have since surrendered to "extensive lobbying" from orphanage officials.

Underneath the initial goodwill Madge's move seems to project, it's clear that she's thinking of only herself right now. Seriously, she's just put her other three kids (Lourdes, Rocco and David Banda) through a separation from their father, started seeing some dude who's closer in age to them than their mother, and now their
lives will change again.

I really do wonder how much influence Angelina Jolie's popularity prompts this decision -- because we all know how much the Material Girl loves her spotlight. It seems Madge is looking to stay front and center for a while, and since her latest album pretty much sucked, she's going the Britney route and playing shit up for the tabs.

The idea is such a boner move, and not a great way to "role model" for her kids. I suggest packing it in, Madonna, packing up, and heading home.

Miz J, is a frequent contributor to Crabby Golightly. Check out Miz J's blog at Miz J.

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CHAPTER FOUR

Something In The Way

BOBBY IS CHANGING OUT OF HIS OIL-STAINED DICKIES AND into some jeans when the phone rings.

"Cyn? Honey? Can you get that?" he calls down the hallway to my always-frazzled daughter-in-law.

There's a mess of dishes in the kitchen, the baby is covered in strained carrots, and Cynthia is fielding questions from Debbie about… well, everything. Deb's at that age now. Kindergarten. Why, why, why, she's constantly asking.

"Deb, honey, now is not the time. Let's talk about this later, okay? Can you wipe your brother's face while I get the phone?"

I see Deb give her mother a little sideways glance and I think, "Better nip that in the bud."

"Hello…whoa, Beth, hang on. Slow down. Deep breaths. Where are you?"

Deb stops wiping Michael's face and looks up at her mother. Bobby bounds down the stairs, refreshed and ready to head over to Sandy's. He strolls into the kitchen, pats Deb’s head and stops short when he sees Cynthia motion to him.


"Hang on, I've got Bobby for you." She hands him the phone, rolling her eyes. "This shit needs to stop."

She looks down at Deb. "Yes, this was an occasion where an adult would use that word. It does not mean you can use it. Go play. I’ll take care of your brother now."

Oh, Cynthia. You’ll never be able to get between Beth and Bobby. Thick as thieves, those two. And now with baby Michael occupying more of Bobby's time, Beth's clock is ticking away, counting off the days without a baby. She was entertaining the idea of adoption last week, but the paperwork has only been briefly shuffled through, and is lying on the floor in her bedroom. Her dog is actually piddling on it right now, something she'll perceive as a sign that it wasn't meant to happen. If I could, I’d tell her that it's simply a sign that she needs to housebreak her dog, and that if she can't do that, then she's not ready for a baby. What? It’s true, yes? Beth has always had a hard time prioritizing things. She lives in the moment. The adoption thing will probably pass.

"Beth? Where are you…why? Okay, calm down. I’ll be there."

He looks at Cynthia. "Can you take the kids to Sandy's? I’ll meet you there." Running upstairs, he decides to change back into the Dickies, grab a few tools and go back home to two eleven North Campbell.

Cynthia rolls her eyes, heaves a deep sigh, and says to herself, "I don’t think so."


Miz J, is a frequent contributor to Crabby Golightly. Signs From Above commemorates the loss of her grandmother, who recently died after a long struggle with cancer. Many people asked her to send signs after her death, to which she scoffed, "That's not how it works." Or does it?

Check out Miz J's blog at Miz J

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March 29, 2009

EXPECTING

A Heart Beats, A Space Grows

I ONLY ATE ONE PIECE OF CINNAMON TOAST, WITH SPLENDA, if that helps your mental image.

The scales at the doctor's office are not forgiving, and I didn't want my recently consumed breakfast to mess anything up.

With one pound gained, we, Mama, Papa, and current baby, waited for almost an hour to hear the newest one's heartbeat. Talking with your spouse while only the quiet child is in the room is never a bad thing, but he had to leave for office hours before the doctor came in.

Of course, as is the way these things work, not two minutes later my OB walked in. She was confident of the child growing in my womb, but the anticipation as she pushed against my gooped up tummy trying to find said being is always hard.

I watched her face as she concentrated, and my boy while he listened for a sound he once made.

Finally, it was there, that fast "bum bum bum bum" that I longed for.

Is it magic that I can love someone that is only 3 inches long?

It was after that appointment that I realized I was ready to end a sacred relationship I have with my 2-year-old. Although he has only been nursing to go to sleep for sometime, it is time for us to move forward. My heart is breaking, yes, but I feel strong enough to do this
now.

How do I finish something that has been my peace and my comfort, along with his, for two and a half years?

The books don't help, this is between me and my marvelous boy. This precious love who,
through this partnership, has come to know me better than anyone else.

He knows when I'm sad before the others notice, he whispers "I love you" in my ear when I need it most, and he holds my neck tight when he hugs me because we have to be that close, always.

He is so excited to be a big brother, he says the words reverently and holds himself while he dreams of it.

Both of our hearts are big enough, but his place will never be filled.

(Can anyone guess the song that coaxed my muse out of bed this morning?)



Mz Ell is a stay-at-home mom who writes, reads, knits, and tries to maintain
sanity on a regular basis. You can read her blog at
Cookiemonks.

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March 27, 2009

UNPLUGGED

The 'CWalken' Twitter Account Has Been Deactivated. Mosey Along Now, Nothing To See Here

ALAS, 'CWALKEN' IS DEAD.

The Internet has been all atwitter about the ironic actor's alleged tweets on Twitter, the popular social networking site.

The post that got everyone twatting (I have been dying to use that in a sentence, thanks Stephen Colbert!) and linking back to the cwalken account was posted on March 18th:

"There's a kid on a Pogo stick in front of my house. It's nearly midnight so let's assume he's been drinking. This should end well for him."

It certainly sounds like something Christopher Walken might say, doesn't it? Well it's not, and when Twitter confirmed it, it unplugged the account that had more 73,000 followers. Sorry Crabby but the "cwalken" account was an experiment set up by Deron Bauman, a member of ClusterFlock, a "group blog dedicated to pretty much everything, by people you would like to meet at a party."

Mr. Bauman has published the password to the cwalken Twitter account (morecowbell) and invited pretty much everyone on the planet to tweet something as Walken. His only rule regarding post content is "Don’t be an idiot."

It looks like the account has been twittering along since October of 2008 and there are a good number of tweets posted. Some of them almost wax poetic, like this one from December 6th:

The neighbor's cat is back at the window looking in at me. I wonder how he would describe this to other cats. If he wanted to, I mean.

Other post dig at celebrities:

Malkovich is doing the Saturday Night show this week. Keep an eye on him. He's not a menace or anything like that. But he takes stuff.

I'm not sure if it's funnier to think of John Malkovich as a petty thief or to think that Christopher Walken doesn't know the name of the show he's hosted memorably more than five times.

At least one tweeter, with no sense of humor, busted the lid off of this charade in a December 9th posting: Of course I'm not the Walken you're thinking of. I would never be on Twitter if I were that guy. I've got better things to do. Or I would.

What other Walken is there I ask you? And why should we presume he's too busy to Twitter? People Twitter on the can these days, there's always time for Twitter! That’s the point of Twitter!

Deron Bauman can't seem to help but do a little twelf-promoting (that would be self-promoting on Twitter, thank you) when cwalken links to
elimae, Bauman's electronic literary magazine in a few posts. But how can you blame him? I’' take a Walken endorsement for crabbygolightly.com any day! (Now I know better.)

Of course, I'd rather have the real Christopher Walken send people to this site but since I
don't know him maybe I’ll just make a new Twitter account for him. So far there are two tweeters claiming to be The Deerhunter actor. cwalken is pretty active but walken hasn't posted since May of last year, and that post was about hot dogs. How many Christopher Walken Twitter accounts can the site handle? Maybe we should ask
chriswalken, who tweeted once in November of last year to let the world know he's part of a vigilante gang. One can raise an eyebrow at the idea of the sixty-six-year-old actor being part of a vigilante group but its more suspect that he would actually announce it. If Christopher Walken is breaking knee-caps in the name of justice I doubt he'd announce it to the world. He seems the time who prefers his violence back-alley and on the DL.

This preponderance of Walkens on Twitter leads to just one question. Will the real Christopher Walken please stand up?

Vegas is a gambler who always loses money on craps. She spends her time in Chicago with her husband, two cats and various artistic endeavors which are beginning to take up way too much space in her house and hard drive. Visit her blog at
jensaysanything.blogspot.com.

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REAL TALK

Deconstructing R. Kelly's Career

Awriting professor opines: "To write well, you must be completely obsessed with your subject." This week, I am obsessed with R. Kelly.

Though his spotlight is dimming, I am fascinated with the progression of his career, which has spanned close to 20 years.
Exhibit A --I feel so freaky to-niiiight! Robert Kelly used to sing songs like Sex Me, a breathy ballad from 1993 which employs phrases like "have no fear, 'cuz ecstasy is near," "unexpected positions, bring it on," and "any secret fantasy?"

And that's just in the first verse. (Hope he lasts longer in real life.)

In keeping true to the early 1990s era, the girls in the video are clad in high-waisted frayed denim shorts with
metal chain belts, midriff-baring tops, and white socks peeking out from lace-up boots. R. Kelly himself sports the most nauseatingly stupendous spandex tank top.

But (disappointingly?) in the later half of the decade, R. Kelly cleaned it up. My theory is that the 1996 song
I Believe I Can Fly was pre-emptive counter-evidence to the
child pornography scandal Kelly got caught in. How can you not trust a man who sings I Believe I Can Fly!

The song serves as a buffer between the public and Kelly's hyper-sexualized singles, and was also a defense after Aaliyah's suspicious 1994 hit
Age Ain’t Nothing but a Number, which Kelly wrote and produced. (It was also rumored that the two were married, but the marriage was annulled after she revealed herself to be a minor.) The blatant fact is R. Kelly likes 'em young, and ever since he was caught (though but not convicted), he's gotten goofier and goofier.

During his show's first season on TV, Dave Chappelle released Piss on You, a scathing mock remix of R. Kelly's work which highlights Kelly’s alleged affinity for the golden shower.

My recent obsession is prompted in part by re-runs of Chappelle's show, but mostly by R. Kelly's YouTube "Behind the Scenes" look at the song
Real Talk. He thinks it's a great song, despite the profanity, because it shows how "real" things get when "you arguin' wit yo girl."

First, a drink and a stogie. Then, a ruffle of his disheveled, half-braided hair and a flourish of his bejeweled sleeve. Finally, an R&B version of an argument with R. Kelly’s "bitch." Is this sheer genius, exploiting YouTube viewers' compulsion to see others do bizarre things? Or is this absolute lunacy: "Real talk?" "The next time yo ass get horny, go fuck onnnne of yo funky-ass friends!" "You gonna burn what? Bitch, I wish you would burn my motha-fuckin clothes!"

Upon his first viewing, my fiancé said, "Wow, he is really going off the deep end.
Real talk." But, in my eyes, Real Talk is just another stanza in the epic poem that is R. Kelly’s life. You make love it, you may hate it, but you're forced to pay attention.


Sophia Ulmer, a creative writing major at Columbia College in Chicago, writes about YouTube for CrabbyGolightly. She enjoys drinking copious amounts of wine, riding her vintage bike, and snuggling with her kitty-cat named Gretta. You can check out her cooking blog at feckinfranchtoast.blogspot.com

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TAKE-HOME LESSON: DON'T BEG

America Votes: Michael Sarver Packs For Home

MICHAEL SARVER wasn't too proud to beg for salvation after scoring at the bottom with Matt Giraud. Sorry Michael, begging won't get you saved on this show.

Michael was eliminated last night and Simon wasn't going to sugar coat it. As he sang for the option to be saved, Paula and Kara danced along and Simon and Randy talked intensely behind them.

After his performance everyone waited while the judges huddled. I was nervously thinking they would save him to secretly spite me, but thankfully Simon told Michael he was going home.

With the judges' save included in this season's mix, I'm dying to see who it will be used on. With the competition down to nine people, I can guess who's going to go home. But I haven't a clue who's going to win it!

Nicki R. is a Southern girl living in the big city of Chicago. She loves quiet evenings a home watching horror films with her dogs Jezebelle and Zombie. She can be reached at nickiret@hotmail.com.

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COUNTDOWN

And Then There Were 10: 'American Idol' Recap

Adam, Allison, Dominate On 'Motown' Night

IIT'S MOTOWN WEEK ON American Idol and there are only ten hopeful contestants left. How did they do this with Smokey Robinson as their guide? Here's the recap.

Matt Giraud sings Let's Get it On. The judges thought he was over all good. Paula loved his "sexy cool vibe" and Simon states that he's a "front runner." I really enjoyed Matt's performance and I don't think he is going anywhere this week.

Kris Allen sings How Sweet It Is To Be Loved By You. Kara felt like he hit his mark and did everything right. Paula felt like he was growing by the week. I thought he was good, and I would like to see what else he brings to the show in the following weeks.

Scott MacIntyre sings You Can't Hurry Love. Paula seemed to be the only person who was pleased with his performance. Simon said it was terrible and cheap, Randy compared it to a hotel performance and Kara loved the tempo but said his execution was off. I didn't think he stood out but he was not the worst person of the night so my guess is he gets another chance.


Megan Joy butchers For Once In My Life. None of the judges thought she was good. Randy said she was a train wreck and Simon said she was horrible. During her practice with Smokey, I could see the pain in his face while telling her she was good. She was not. I think Megan is going to be up for elimination and no one is going to save her.

Anoop Desai sings Ooh Baby Baby and sings it well. The judges all think he did a good job. Simon said he looked half asleep but he had great vocals. His performance was one of my favorites of the night so my bet he's not going anywhere.

Michael Sarver's singing Ain't Too Proud To Beg, yet he should to stay another week. Paula said it was "Las Vegas Loungy" and Simon couldn't wait for it to end. I thought this guy was going to go home last week but he hung on for another unmemorable performance. His time may be up.

Lil Rounds sings Heat Wave. The judges like her but not her doing this song. I didn't think she was so great but she'll be around for at least another week.

Adam Lambert covers Smokey's The Tracks of my Tears. Kara says it's one of the best performances of the night and Simon corrects her by saying it was THE best performance. I was blown away and Adam has nothing to worry about during this week's elimination round.

Danny Gokey sings Get Ready. Paula was the only one who thought it was a "first class performance" while Simon thought it was "clumsy and amateurish." Randy said he had a "dope voice" but it was not his best performance. I thought 'ok,' but nothing great. He's going to be ok this week.

Last up, Allison Iraheta rocks out Papa Was A Rolling Stone." This week, they certainly saved the best for last. Kara said it right with "American vote for her!" During her practice she had trouble remembering some of the words but she did a great job closing the show.

Tune in to see who's tossed.


Nicki R. is a Southern girl living in the big city of Chicago. She loves quiet evenings a home watching horror films with her dogs Jezebelle and Zombie. She can be reached at nickiret@hotmail.com.

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March 25, 2009

TWITTER BACKLASH

Mutiny On Board! Staff Writer, Still Peeved About Ma Bell's Break-Up, Won't Tweet

NO CRABBY, I WILL NOT TWITTER!

I also won't Myspace, Facebook and I'm not LinkedIn.

For chrissakes, I'm still upset about the breakup of Ma Bell.

If I sound crochtey, I am. So many means of communication, but life has turned into just a tower of babel.

We hear each other's phone conversation, we read each others intimate thoughts. We feed on a relentless stream of self-promotion. We worry about who's following who (whom?).

And such lemming-like behavior usually ends badly.

Talk, talk, talk, talk, talk, 24 hours a day. Never out of reach…I remember saying, "I don’t need a cell phone." Then the phone booths disappeared and they took all the pay phones away. And I ran out of gas on Route 1 at 11 p.m. on a Tuesday. So I'm forced into complicity.

I barely check my home phone messages anymore. Give me a holler on the cell. We'll have a quick chat because nobody has a conversation anymore. In fact, some don't converse at all, they con-ver-sate. WTF!

Type, type, type, type, type.

Trillions of words flowing every second, millions talking loud and saying nothing.

I really try to be a private person. Unlike people who say they're a private person ON THEIR BLOGs. I used to try to keep up. I really gave it a go. Even worked for awhile in an IT department.

I'm still trying. Just not as hard.

No Crabby, I will not Twitter!

SexyChattyCatty comments at CrabbyGolightly.com on TV, America's favorite snack food.

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TWITTERIFIC?

Stars We Want To Twitter

YESTERDAY WE LOOKED AT THE TOP STARS OF TWITTER. Peeking into their worlds got us thinking about which celebrities we'd really liked to hear from. Here's Crabby's top 10 list of celebs we most want to tweet.

10. Steve Martin. The funny man isn't so funny in person. I encountered him once while I worked in TV, and frankly, he was The Jerk. But everyone around him excused his behavior because he has just gone through a divorce. Still, he has a reputation as being smart, and he's literate. Now he's remarried, to a New Yorker writer no less, and I envy the erudite conversations the two must share over breakfast together. I bet they could spice up their marriage by competing over who could write the most amusing 140 character sentences.

9. Samuel L. Jackson. In addition to just being a bad-assed actor, Jackson's indirect path to fame includes serving as an usher at Martin Luther King's funeral, dabbling in the 60s' Black Power movement, and fighting a cocaine addiction. Jackson, who shot to fame as the psychopath Jules Winnfield in Quentin Tarantino's Pulp Fiction, is listed in the 2009 edition of The Guiness World Records as the world's highest grossing actor, having earned $7.42 billion in 68 films. And just last month, Jackson signed a 9-picture deal with Marvel. Have I convinced you that he's got something to say? Mr. Jackson actually has a Twit account, but hasn't quite got the hang of it yet. Get busy, sir!

8. Pink. Born Alecia Beth Moore, this Doylestown, Pa. native writes and performs music with such emotional honesty that I imagine her crawling into a ball and crying after every performance. She's a PETA activist, wrote a letter to Prince William complaining about his fox-hunting, and even had the courage to diss Beyonce for wearing fur. Someone so honest surely would be able to spit out truisms 140 characters at a time?

7. Ali Hewson. Okay, she's not a celebrity in her own right. But Bono's partner of 34 years surely must have a lot going on upstairs to keep one of the world's most earnest megalomaniacs grounded. The couple began dating in 1975, and Ali took care of Paul Hewson emotionally after his mother died. Together the couple have four children. Whenever I read any interviews of her, she seems to know she really holds the power. I wouldn't mind a regular glimpse into such a self-possessed soul.


6. Paul Rudd. Entertainment Weekly’s Dave Karger captures the wide appeal of everybody's favorite everyman. Among some choice quotes from a recent feature of I Love You, Man! star: "I've always felt like I'm the kind of actor that some people might recognize, but they probably don't know my name." And, "I don't have a big drive to be 'the guy.'" And, "I always thought I'd be a really good gay guy. I love American Idol." As EW exclaims, "He's not beggin' for love, so we wanna give it to him even more." He’s a star and all, but he's not rubbing it in your face. How can we not like that?


5. Jon Malkovich. By many accounts unpredictable both on and off stage. When once asked the odd question of whom he'd most like to "fight to the death," Malkovich responded that he’d "rather just shoot" Tom Cruise, along with one particular journalist and a British MP. According to Wikipedia, Malkovich is a self-described libertarian who once said, "I'm a Christopher Hitchens fan myself, but no one has thinner skins than journalists, in my experience, and I come from a family of them… They can dish it out but they can't take it.” I say he sounds Twitterific, clearly able to spew in 140-character bites.


4. Christopher Walken. But, of course, you are saying smugly that he is already on Twitter. You are correct, an oversight I felt compelled to apologize for on Twitter this very morning. Because Christopher Walken is a bonafide actor who belonged in yesterday's story, not some phoney baloney from La La Land. (Okay, maybe he is, but in my mind he isn't.) Notoriously disdainful of blood and dark movies, Crabby went to see Deer Hunter three times in her youth, in part because of its mesmerizing performances; in part because the story takes places in my beloved rusted Pennsylvania. But that was only the beginning for Walken, and we soon all learned that he was capable of anything: tap dancing, comedy, producing music videos. Now Mr. Walken entertains us via droll witticisms on Twitter. "An associate told me that he'd been cheating on his wife. He asked me not to talk about it and I probably won't. Unless it comes up somehow,” he muses. And another: "Secretary of Ironic Scarves." I don't know if Obama read my letter but I hope so. Ashton Kutcher deserves this. So does California." Gems, every one.


3. Whoopi Goldberg. There is no pretense about Whoopi; what you see is what you get. You got a problem with her dreadlocks? That's your problem. Her clothes? Keep it to yourself. That's what TV Guide writer Ingela Ratledge recently learned when she dissed Whoopi's Oscar outfit as looking like she was "ready to make a run to (discount store) Costco." Ouch! But Whoopi's got a bigger stage, and on last week’s View, she pointedly said, "My style, who I am, is not about my clothing. If I came out in a bag, I would still and always will be me, so you can kiss my ass." And to another critic, she said, "I don't need you to take me seriously. I am myself, I've always been myself, and you don't judge me by what I wear, you judge me by what I say." Just what Twitter needs: more straight talk for a non-bullshitter.


2. Joaquin Phoenix. I don't know about you, but I'd love to be able to read Joaquin's mind, particularly as he morphs his public persona from A-list actor to hip-hop artist-turned-national-joke. If the career switch is not a gimmick, then any tweets from him might shed light on his true state of mind. And if it's all a big gimmick, then Twitter would be the ideal tool with which to perpetuate his scheme. I can imagine him RTing back and forth with iamdiddy, throwing verbal punches over who's got more street cred and the benefits of autotune. Joaquin, are you ready to tweet?


1. Robert Downey Jr. This man has lived six or seven lifetimes over the last 20 years and looks better than ever. He never appears to be "acting," except during his last big wink in Tropic Thunder. And I guess when you've rolled in the deep muck you lose any sense of entitlement, and Downey seems to have none. In this year's Newsweek Oscar roundtable, while Brad Pitt puffed that he never googles himself, Downey on the contrary said, "I just love it. Because it’s a hoot. Some people overstate their support. They fell like they know you. Other people …just say some despicable character assassination [in] which I honestly I actually think they nailed it. I do have that shortcoming. It’s fun." And, seriously, don't you wish more celebrities didn't think their shit smelled?

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CELEBRITY IDLE

The Shiniest Stars In Twitter's Galaxy

ASHTON KUTCHER FORGOT FOR A MOMENT THAT he isn't producing Punk'd any longer and posted a shot of his wife's pantied derriere on Twitter. Thank you Ashton!

I'm sure both she and you are very proud. I would be too if I had that butt. (And what better time to remind the world of your love -- and that rump -- than on the weekend when Demi's ex ties the knot to another dark-haired beauty. We learned this week that Bruce Willis has a "type.")

Ashton's prank, or pride, or generosity, or…whatever you want to call it…gives perfect entree to the subject of celebrities on Twitter, and I won't waste my time talking down to those who need explaining what Twitter is. (Feel that tsunami sucking you inward and down?)

It's because of this latest -- and most absorbing -- darling of the "social media" networks that ordinary schleps like me and you get to peek at Demi Moore's rump.

"watching my wife steam my suit while wearing a bikini," Kutcher writes moments before he throws up the pic. "shhh don't tell wifey. http://twitpic.com/2bj58.

But Ashton isn't alone among celebrities sharing their minds' flotsam and jetsam to the masses through "tweets."

There is Sean Combs, aka, Puffy, aka. P. Diddy, aka iamdiddy, who routinely leads the virtual party for his 248,000 followers with a "question of the day."

"What's your definition of 'A FRIEND?'"!!!" "What the best HANGOVER remedy?" "What's your favorite song to make love too?????" are among his recent invitations to chat him up.

And only last weekend the Bad Boy himself "invited" his ethereal fans to a virtual party he was hosting in NYC. (Interestingly, Mr. Diddy has only "favored" one tweet and it's from aplusk, aka Kutcher.

Then there is Ellen DeGeneres, with a fanbase of 335,000, who likes to crack wise.

"I'm so glad Diddy told me about Twitter…Diddy tell you?" Haha. A real knee-slapper, Ellen. Sounds like one of my jokes.

And another: "This is my first video on twitter.…it's a twiddeo!"

True story about a Twitter "hook up": Ellen and MC Hammer exchanged tweets – leading Ellen to invite MC to her show. "I just told my audience I want you on the show. Tweet me back."

And just like that, MC is skedded for Ellen's show today.

Of course, Lindsay Lohan has her own Twitter stage, but hers
warrants its own story.

And then there is Britney, but it's no secret that she has some Harvard whiz kid handling all her social media. (Proof positive that the elite are in cahoots?) Let's be real: this is a girl who
isn't allowed her own cell phone; do you think daddy's gonna let her tweet an S.O.S. to the world?


Here's one more for the road: John Mayer, musician and ex boy toy of Jen Aniston, routinely tweets to 326,000 followers insights like, "Life is like walking through a funhouse. It's dark, people are pushing, and you can't turn around. You just follow the cracks of light."

John, that is so 140 characters deep.

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March 23, 2009

BODY BLATHER

Tabloid Trash Talk

This Week Choices: Truth Or Bare? Who's Really Pregnant? Who's Hot In A Bikini? And Who Is Better Off Staying Dressed?

AHHHH, SPRING IS IN THE AIR, explaining why bathing suit bodies and baby rumors are flooding the tabloids.

OK! promises The Truth About Which Stars Are Really Pregnant. The truth is none of them are.

Well, Katie Holmes might be. Her new hair extensions and her dewey, glossy look at the Tokyo premiere of Valkyrie hint that she's expecting.

Staragrees and sites "then" and "now" photos of Katie as evidence.

In a shot taken February 28th she looks gaunt and ill without makeup or her hair styled. Her cheekbones make her look frighteningly like Skeletorand she's got a crazy-old-lady shine in her eyes. But in her March 11th photo in Tokyo she's all done up, rockin' some hot hair extensions so she looks like a normal 30 year old.

That is a rarity for Katie, often photographed looking strung out or dazed, fueling rumors of Scientology "cleansing programs" run amok and earning her the nickname Katie-Bot."

Well it looks like she's had an upgrade. OK! says that their family and close friends already know she's pregnant but they're just waiting a while to go public.

OK! also covers the dream of future Brangelina babies, both biological and adopted.

According to the magazine the A-List couple is trying for the land speed record of babymaking by simultaneously getting Angelina pregnant and adopting an African baby!

Wow, what an awful life Brad Pitt has. All he's got is the world’s hottest woman as a de facto wife, the world's (other) hottest man as his best buddy and the world’s hottest children following him around all day. Poor guy.

The last of OK''s maybe baby celebrity coverage is a story about how, despite losing yet another man, Jen Aniston is still keeping her baby dreams alive.

Yep, she and John Mayer are off again, and the mag says being single might not prevent Jen from becoming a mom. But mostly it just wants to talk about the breakup and how Jon just ain't a marryin' man.

US! breaks it down further, explaining that Jen is primed and ready to get hitched and make a baby but John is really more interested in his career right now. Which, you know, the irony could knock you over on this one. Rumors at the time of her split from Brad Pitt was that she didn't want to make babies yet and that's what stalled their marriage.

Uhh, and possibly working with Angelina might have had something to do with it also. But anyway, Jen's old words are coming back to haunt her on this one and all of the hot, young studs in Hollywood better watch out. Jen’s going to be on the prowl with her ovaries as her chauffer.

Star's coverage of the split is way more salacious, with rumors of Mayer shopping around a tell-all book about their relationship and all of Jen's little quirks. Like her six-hour exercise and beauty routine and her alleged obsession with her ex. Apparently she called out his name in bed once too! (Though how did they find out? Was John Twittering again?) Whoops, that's embarrassing.

But beside all of the stories that Jon has been keeping notes, there's also allegedly pictures! Of Jen sleeping! With no makeup on! And also shots of her drunk at a party in Mexico. Tisk tisk, so many starlets fall into the same trap of sleeping and having a good time on vacation. It's almost as if they are asking for someone to take embarrassing photos of them!

We're also officially on Nicole Richie Baby Bump Watch.

US gives us a front page story on her "boho-chic" maternity wear. I’m sure her look will be all the rage with upwardly mobile, anorexic mothers-to-be this spring.

According to Star, she and rocker beau Joel Madden are expecting twins, and
they're hoping for boys. Twins are so 2008 though. Don't they know that multiple births are super hot right now? If they want to steal headlines they're going to have to do something outrageous! Nine babies! Ten! Hell, give us a baker's dozen and you'll have free stuff just handed to you.

It worked for Nadya Suleman. According to Us, Nadya took her other kids out to amusement parks while volunteers were retro-fitting her new house with baby safety devices and giving it an "industrial medical cleaning." She also had all sorts of baby equipment delivered, and there's a hand painted mural in the new nursery where the octuplets will be sleeping, two to a crib. I guess she got a government bailout too!

Last, but not least, the National Enquirer put some of this year's ugliest beach bodies on their cover. Look, I got a lot of respect for Beth Ditto but I don’t need to see all 210 pounds of her on my coffee table.

The good beach bodies are perennials: Julia Roberts still makes the list, Hilary Swank is looking good in a gold bikini.

And there are the "then" and "now" shots of Nicole Richie looking like a zombie at a beach party in 2006, and a more recent shot of her wearing more meat on her bones in a two-piece.

The other is of Britney Spears at, ohmygodthehorror, 120 pounds last year and now with a more svelte, less frito pie enhanced, beach bod.

Other non-surprises on the best of beach list are Charlize Theron and Salma Hayek's breasts in a blue one piece.

The "worst" bodies are also familiar: Star Jones and Queen Latifah are here with Anjelica Huston's sagging belly and Eva Longoria Parker's cheesy ass.

To evenly distribute the scorn and ridicule, NE also gives us a spread of men's beach bodies. The worst they could find though is hardly bad. Gary Dourdan (formerly of CSI) looks like he's been partaking in too many unemployment beers but he squeezed himself into a teeny-tiny speedo anyway.

They've also reprinted the photo of President Obama on the beach that raised blood pressure earlier this year. Not bad Mr. President, all of that basketball really does you a world of good, I don't care how bad a bowler you are!


Vegas is a gambler who always loses money on craps. She spends her time in Chicago with her husband, two cats and various artistic endeavors which are beginning to take up way too much space in her house and hard drive. Visit her blog at
jensaysanything.blogspot.com.

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March 22, 2009

CHAPTER THREE

No Place Like Home

BETH IS DRIVING DOWN THE HIGHWAY, and detours off near Western Ave., by our old house. There's something about this house that keeps all of us coming back from time to time, perhaps just the fact that, at one glorious moment, all five of us lived there, together and happy.

But time marches on -- with or without us. Beth turns up the radio a little and I watch her cry from inside her car. That damn cat -- it's still alive after all this time -- peers at her menacingly from across the street.

"Stupid fucking cat," Beth says bitterly. I’ve never known her to be so angry. Tonight, there's something different about my youngest daughter. As she puts the car into gear, I see the cat's hind legs spring up in anticipation. It's going to pounce in front of her.

The green eyes, wide and surprised, scare Beth into skidding down Campbell Street. The neighbors snap to attention, peeling themselves off their trendy leather furniture and peeking out of picture windows into the crisp fall night.

Leaves crumple under her tires and so does part of the cat -- the left hind leg. Beth leaps from her car to the wounded animal, who hisses at her violently. The man -- Greg, I think is his name -- dashes out from our old home with a blanket and a cell phone.

"Are you okay, Miss?" His gray eyes widen when he glimpses the cat.

"Oh…we’d better find its owner…do you live around here?" He begins dialing for help.

Shaken, Beth asks what she already knows. "Do you live at the end of the block?"

"Yes. Two-one-one."

Even in this inappropriate moment, we both cringe, thinking, "It’s TWO ELEVEN."



Miz J, is a frequent contributor to Crabby Golightly. Signs From Above commemorates the loss of her grandmother, who recently died after a long struggle with cancer. Many people asked her to send signs after her death, to which she scoffed, "That's not how it works." Or does it?

Check out Miz J's blog at Miz J.

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THE MIND'S MYSTERY

Psychiatry Can't Explain Hanz Fritzl's Heinous Horrors

APSYCHIATRIST TESTIFIED THAT JOSEF FRITZL IMPRISONED AND RAPED HIS DAUGHTER ELISABETH BECAUSE OF a loveless and anxiety-ridden childhood he spent with his mother.

According to the Guardian, the psychiatrist testifed that Fritzl's "behaviour had its roots in his troubled childhood, describing a mother who did not love him, who left him to cry when he was in pain, who regularly beat him and left him on his own for hours at a time."

The deviant Austrian told the psychiatrist that he was "born to rape," that he choose is daughter Elisabeth "because she was most like me, as strong as me, as stubborn as me."

Fritzl spoke of his own basement nightmares, "when his mother Maria left him in a bunker [alone] during 1943 air raids over Amstetten when he was eight. He was abandoned for hours on end."

Now that Fritzl has pleaded guilty to all of the crimes for which he was charged, more details of the horrors of both his and Elisabeth's hardships will be revealed. And all the deviancy and dysfuntion will surely make for fascinating study.

But no many how many books are written or details uncovered, the entirety of reason for Fritzl's depravity can't
ever truly be explained.

Just doing a quick Google search of the literature on victims of childhood abuse will deliver conclusions like this one from
the National Institute of Justice:

"Researchers …acknowledge that studies of the impact of childhood abuse (including sexual abuse) find substantially large groups of individuals who appear to have
experienced little or no long-term negative consequences. There are a number of possible explanations, among them inadequate measurement techniques on the part of the researchers. It is also possible that some factors or characteristics of the abuse incident … or some characteristics of the child… or the child's environment (having a close relationship with a supportive person, for example) may have served as a buffer from the long-term consequences. Protective factors in the lives of abused and neglected children need to be uncovered.

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March 21, 2009

RAMSEY VS. RAMSEY

Chef Scold Gordon Ramsey Inspires Frightening Pint-Sized Imitator

I'M NOT A BIG REALITY TV WATCHER, BUT I DO LOVE SEEING PEOPLE GET THEIR SHIT HANDED TO THEM. And I love food.

Thus, Gordon Ramsey is the guy for me. He conveniently combines both sadism and gastronomy in one tasty sitting.

For those of you not privy to the big blonde British bastard, let me introduce you to him here. This comes from an episode of Kitchen Nightmares, a show that attempts to "turn restaurants around."

This particular episode features a belligerent French chef in California who rejects every bit of Ramsay's direction. (Though Ramsay nixes the fried onions on top of a filet, which sounds diabetically DELICIOUS to me.)

The chef's pantry was a shit-hole, covered in dust and hosting a flourishing collection of mold. The funniest part about this clip, which captures Ramsay's boiling point, is when the flustered chef refuses to clean it!

And inevitably, of course, the Brit's bellowing ballistics inspire a YouTube parody.

Caterer.com -- "The place for jobs in hospitality," -- reimagines Gordon Ramsey as a child!

The tagline reads "Little Gordon’s on a personal mission to rid the world of rubbish food and pathetic service. So no excuses, yeah?"

when the real Gordon Ramsey found out about the mimicking pip sqeak, whose real name is Felix Hickey, he hired him to terrorize contestants on Hell's Kitchen! This is how convincing little Felix is!

The Little Gordon series comes in three parts, and I found them conveniently on one
single clip.

In Part 1, Mom packs Little Gordon lunch—a ham and cheese sandwich, PFS (pretty fuckin' standard), right? Wrong.

When he sees the offerings, Gordon is exasperated.

"Fucking unbelievable," he sighs. He then berates his poor mum
for using the wrong bread, says it's "fucking embarrassing," and makes her cry.

"Here come the waterworks!" Gordon shouts after her as she flees the scene, "That’s gonna help!"

In Part 2, Little Gordon is at a restaurant—which I can only assume is based on The Secret Garden from the aforementioned Kitchen Nightmares episode -- for his mum and dad's anniversary dinner. "Let’s hope it doesn't disappoint," he says.

After 40 minutes without appetizers, Gordon insists that he see the manager. "Grow some fucking balls!" Gordon screams at him. At near an hour without any chicken, Gordon could "only presume that [the manager was] waiting for the eggs to hatch."

The end of this clip is my favorite part. As Gordon leaves the restaurant, he walks between his parents down the sidewalk and they each take one of his hands and
swing him. After all the foul language and mature expectations, we are reminded that Little Gordon is a kid, which makes the skit even funnier.

In Part 3,
Little Gordon is in his school cafeteria. "I’ve been coming here for over two years now," he announces, and complains that the quality of the food has gone downhill. "No wonder the kids are bringing packed lunches," he muses. When his mashed potatoes and sausage is not up to par, he gags, then picks the sausage link up gingerly between two fingers, making his approach toward the kitchen.

"I've got one word for you," he screams at the lunch ladies. "Un-fucking-believable!!"

He demands to know the meat content in the sausages, scolding the ladies for serving something that tastes like "hydrogenated dog shit."

We predict that Little Gordon will get his own TV show one day. I just feel sorry for whoever breaks it to him that there's not enough room in the kitchen for two big blonde British bastards.

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NEW SUSPECT

Bernie Madoff Being Questioned In Montauk Murder Mystery; Police Say 'Disaster Girl' Cleared Of Crime

NEWS BULLETIN!

The devilishly diabolical "Disaster Girl" was cleared of any suspicion in the death of the Montauk Monster after news accounts revealed that the ''worst Jew ever" Bernie Madoff owns an oceanfront estate in the New York seaside community.

Police are questioning Madoff about his whereabouts in July 2009 when the freakishly decomposed corpse was found.

Investigators speculate that the Monster may have threatened to expose the billionaire's financial crimes.

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March 20, 2009

WHERE NEEDS ARE MET

Hurry! Free Sex With Coupon! No Purchase Required

IT'S THE ULTIMATE TEASE: SEX WITHOUT EXPECTATION.

So of course the cartoonish ad with a smiling man and woman in a bed certainly caught my eye.

There it was, on Page 73 yesterday of the Chicago Reader: "THIS COUPON ENTITLES YOU TO ONE FREE AFFAIR. AshleyMadison.com."

And then in smaller letters: As Seen on: Larry King, Dr. Phil, 20/20.

Surely, this was some sort of hoax?

But Google quickly disproved that notion and I learned that AshleyMadison.com is a real site much touted by Howard Stern that helps the sexually hungry discreetly hook-up with someone to meet their…unmet needs.

How very practical!

If boredom, revulsion or estrangement threatens your marriage, why not step out for a little action? Why not go ahead and singe that last little thread holding the marriage together?

And I've met at least a half dozen women in my life who could separate casual sex from, you know, like. I"m guessing all six of them must be signed up with AshleyMorgan.

One divorced blogger has made it his mission to
to sample lots of them, aiming to get laid by a 100 different girls in a year by regularly sampling AM's wares. (A marketing ploy?)

Of one girl he wrote last June 5th, "She was up for anything. I had my tongue in her ass before I even kissed her, and she was squealing. Pretty soon I was showing her how to hold her head so she could deep throat me without gagging too much." And so it went.

The AM sex exchange has been helping hook-ups since 2001, according to Noel Biderman, a lawyer and former sports agent who is the company's president and CEO.

In an interview with
OnMilwaukee.com, Biderman says business is -- where else -- up.

"It took us almost six years to get our first 1 million users. Then, we added 2.4 million in the last year and a half."

That's what getting shot down for the SuperBowl will do for you: the website's ad was rejected by
NBC, but it did find a sympathetic station to air it somewhere in Texas.

But our society has not become so blase about adultery that we ignore it.

Last week, a National Review columnist wrote: "Given its high profile, even among center-right cable TV viewers, I would have expected some criticism or at least an acknowledgement of the damage AshleyMadison.com is doing and the horrible example it sets."

I'm sympathetic to his argument.

But in these days of declining housing values, decimated 401Ks and the potential for catastrophic financial loss in a health crisis, free sex may be the only thing left to hope for.

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March 19, 2009

BRITNEY BEAT

Restraining Order Against Brit's Pap Beau Extended to 2012

A judge agreed yesterday with the rest of the freaking world that Adnan Ghalib poses a threat to Britney Spears and her pseudo-sanity, and extended a restraining order against the beguiling paparrazzo into 2012.

At that point, Britney will be in her thirties, and maybe then she'll be ready to face the results of all her twenty-something antics.

We've all done crazy shit in our early twenties, dated losers. But since something like a high Visa bill will never really be a problem for Spears, here's hoping that her 'ex' mistakes don't haunt her future.

Spears' father, Jamie, who has conservatorship over his famous daughter's affairs, asked for the restraining order three months ago. Ghalib did not file an objection to the request.

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SUDDEN LOSS

Natasha Richardson, A 'Real' Actor, Dies Tragically

IKNEW LITTLE OF THE DYNASTIC ACTING FAMILY FROM WHICH ACTRESS NATASHA RICHARDSON CAME, had no idea she was the wife of actor Liam Neeson, knew scant about her work except her luminous appearance as the estranged ex-wife "Liz" in Disney's remade The Parent Trap. I remember wondering 'who is this person' while watching that film; she seemed so out-of-place from the rest of the cast.

Richardson's sudden death resulting from a freak ski accident at the Mont Tremblant ski resort in Quebec brought all these details to my attention And by every account I've read, she was as down-to-earth as any actor could be.

Of her famous family, which included her mother actress Vanessa Redgrave, who was abandoned by her father director Tony Richardson, she said, "We've all been through it in one way or another and so we've had to be strong. Also we embrace life. We are not cynical about life."

She met her husband, the famous Irish actor Liam Neeson, in 1993 and married him a year later. The couple has two sons.

Of her husband, she told The Independent in 2003, "He's more laid back, happy to see what happens, whereas I'm a doer and I plan ahead. The differences sometimes get in the way but they can be the very things that feed a marriage, too."

In that very same interview, speaking of a serious accident in which Neeson broke his pelvis after hitting a deer on his motorcycle, Richardson said, "I wake up every morning feeling lucky -- which is driven by fear, no doubt, since I know it could all go away."

Here are links to stories about her life and death:

The Associated Press reports, "Natasha Richardson dies after ski fall."

The Los Angeles Times has "Natasha Richardson: An Appreciation."

Entertainment Weekly has "Natasha Richardson: A Critical Appreciation."

FoxNews.com gets it right with "Natasha Richardson: One Of The Good Guys.".

Finally, the New York Daily News carries "Natasha Richardson and Liam Neeson's magical marriage takes tragic turn."

Funeral arrangements are being planned in New York.

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HYPNOTIZED

Advertiser Issues Command To Oprah's Audience

AS WE ALL KNOW, THERE IS NO BETTER AUDIENCE THAN OPRAH'S TO FEED THE BOTTOM LINE.

And as we see here, subtlety is not a prerequisite for pitching to her fan base.

But one question: Does Oprah know that some weight-loss product called Purity 12 is being sold in her name?

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March 17, 2009

SHORT RIFT

Model Behavior? 'Short Girls' Set New Low For Tyra Banks' Show

WHO KNEW SHORT CHICKS WERE SO FEISTY?

They're probably not that short to you or me, but Tyra Banks looks down on them, literally.

So instead of talking about how short a certain contestant is, Tyra deemed that they be rounded up together for America's Next Top Model where this season's affliction is Model Munchkinism, or wannabes who stand no taller than 5 feet 7 inches.

And they came, 10,000 of them.

Some slept outside on the sidewalk overnight for a chance at beauty. There were barricades around them, and rumor has it that if you stepped out, you were out for good. Bathroom access had to be a problem.

No one really knows why the melee erupted. The New York Post reports "the massive crowd of hopefuls…got spooked when people started screaming about a car that for some reason they thought
was about to explode."

What a way to stress yourself out. Somebody had to get an attitude.


So somebody beefed somebody else, some pushing and shoving, thousands of high-strung women who think they're beautiful, a car fire that turns into a bomb, a scream and the stampede is on. Six would-be contestants are injured and three people are arrested. It's
news.

Tyra issues a statement and everything.

The casting manager tells the press "we've never had this many girls before" and deduces it's the result of the relaxed height rules. The entire production is shut down immediately.

And, as always, there was a …a camera.

The YouTube video is not as riotous as expected, but I wouldn't want to be in the middle of a brawl with 10,000 New Yorkers.

Wanna bet every one of those Munchinks returns when the show resumes?


SexyChattyCatty comments at CrabbyGolightly.com on TV, America's favorite snack food.

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THE THRILLER'S GONE

Tabloid Trash Talk

Memba Them?! Madonna, King of Pop and Other Stars of the 80s Get Face Time In This Week's Mags

WE'RE FEELIN' AN 80s FLASHBACK VIBE HERE at Tabloid Trash Talk.

Some of our favorite stars of that most decadent decade are getting a lot of face time in this week's mags. One of US Weekly's first features is an oversized photo of an oversized Janet Jackson.

Nothing says "The 80s" like Fat Janet. She's been trim and toned down to a superstar sized 120 pounds over the last couple of decades. But she was the chubby, cute girl of rock back in the 80s and now, well they call it a weight battle. But it looks like the battle is over and the weight has won. Even celebrity can't fight middle-age spread.

US also has a totally rad and totally random photo of Sara Gilbert on a play date with her toddler daughter, Sawyer. Being a lesbian mommy must keep her busy, because aside from a couple of guest spots on The Big Bang Theory, we haven't seen her on TV in a while. Maybe it's time to throw Roseanne on the reboot wagon and get Sara and The First Becky some work.

Kevin Bacon is also in here, looking pretty close to the same age he was when he starred in 1984's Footloose. How does he manage to look so young? I like this music career he's got going on. It makes the Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon game far more interesting. And I'm happy to see that he's still relevant.

Here's hoping his career will outlast pretty boy, tween heartthrob Zac Efon.

Zac is reprising the role Kevin made famous in Footloose in a new version of the film. I don't think anyone will be able to make Kenny Logins as sexy as Kevin did though.

The Other Jackson made the front pages of Star. And by "other" I mean of possible alien origin. Wacko Jacko is back, yo!

Earlier this month the 80s' King of Pop announced a comeback tour. He still hasn't told us what planet he's coming back from. Or what he thinks he's coming back to. He's barely recognizable, (remember when he was black?!). And while fans are flocking to snatch up concert tickets, at this point he's more a media freak show than
pop star. He looks like bits and pieces might fall off of him if the choreography gets too strenuous.


And who can have an 80s flashback without Madonna.

The Material Girl has found religion in her new boy-toy, Jesus Luz.

Star's source refers to her as "the ultimate cougar," and she totally chewed up and spit A-Rod right the hell out after last year's extra-marital shenanigans. Madge has moved on to a hot model who doesn't even speak English. Who needs words when you're speaking the universal language of love.

No matter how hard she tries though, Madonna will never be able to reestablish her former 80s glory. This is nothing compared to the ruckus she raised when she and Sean Penn split back in '89.


OK! works to keep Tom Cruise alive, despite dismal film releases and all of that, you know,
Elron stuff. But the most newsworthy thing he's done since Rainman has been making the perfect baby with his Stepford wife, Katie Holmes. Every time Suri looks sideways at a paparazzo, Tom Cruise gets a photo in the magazines. His latest bid at self-promotion involves orchestrating a play date for Suri
with A-list toddlers Shiloh and Zahara Jolie-Pitt, who surely need some socialization skills.

It sounds like the apple hasn't fallen far from the tree in the Cruise family. Daddy is infamous for exerting his Thetan-powered will on everyone he works with and Suri is already picking out outfits for Shiloh to wear when she comes to play. I wonder if Tom tells his friends what to wear when they hang out?


The always classy National Enquirer has all but declared 80s sex symbol Patrick Swayze dead. Swayze has spoken out publicly against their coverage of his battle with cancer, but he's definitely not in dirty dancing shape anymore.

There's a little bit of brighter news for another 80s icon. Michael J Fox has gone from the poster of boy of 80s excess as Alex P. Keaton on Family Ties to the poster boy for biomedical research. And the NE is reporting that there's been a possible breakthrough in Parkinson's research at a Cambridge, Mass., facility. Although they are still years away from any sort of cure, we should all keep hoping for the best: that Fox finds the strength to appear in Teen Wolf Three – Back in the Pack.

I totally made that movie up, but if anyone is interested in a spec script I just happen to have a treatment on my desk.


Vegas is a gambler who always loses money on craps. She spends her time in Chicago with her husband, two cats and various artistic endeavors which are beginning to take up way too much space in her house and hard drive. She blogs at jensaysanything.blogspot.com.

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March 16, 2009

CHAPTER TWO

Things With Meaning

THE LAST OF MY THINGS ARE WITH SANDY, AND she is sitting on the bed with my beautiful little granddaughters, showing them my watch and my wedding ring. I can smell the perfume in the air and hear the clunk-clunk of too-big shoes on the floor. The girls are playing dress up again.

"Someday, Emily, you can wear this watch. It was your Nana's favorite." Emily bends sideways across her mother's lap to take a look. "It's very old, sweetie. Be careful." A short, pudgy finger strokes the watch face for a second. "Can we go play Princess for a while, Mom?" she asks.

Sandy chokes back tears when she hears this. Emily doesn't understand what her mother is feeling -- she's only four, after all. "Yes, go play Princess." Emily bounds out of the room with her sister Kathleen wobbling behind her. My Sandy. Such a good girl, and so strong! I am glad that Anthony is here, with her.

"Dad? Hi, Dad." I hear Sandy's voice as she wanders into his room and sits down on the bed, raising her father up with the remote. He grunts in response, trying to tell her about the dreams he's been having about me. He's just too weak today, though. Maybe tomorrow, he thinks, but I know better. That's why I'm at Sandy's today, and not nosing through my children's business or snooping on our old house like I normally do.

The oxygen machine whirrs and ka-chunks next to the bed while Sandy holds his hand for a quiet minute or two.

"It's been kinda hectic around here with the girls today, so I'm sorry I haven't had time to sit with you."

Whirr, ka-chunk. Whirr, ka-chunk.

Sandy still has my watch, and she starts fiddling with it nervously. Her breathing gets heavier and a tear falls down her face. "Dad…I just wanted to tell you that I love you."

Anthony smiles that bright smile like he does, and sort of squeezes her hand back. Maybe he knows, maybe he doesn't. "Everyone’s coming over for dinner later. Do you think we can put you in the wheelchair for a while tonight?"

Whirr, ka-chunk. Whirr, ka-chunk.

Anthony closes his eyes as if to surrender to the throbbing tumor in his chest. It seems to grow bigger by the minute, the way he continually winces. Sandy has a hard time watching her Papa go through this, wondering when all his suffering will be over, and being terrified for that day to come.

Whirr, ka-chunk. Whirr, ka-chunk.

Anthony gasps in air, lips dry and cracking. Sandy applies some salve and kisses his head. "Get some rest, Dad. It’s going to be a long night tonight."

Sandy had no idea how right she’d be about that.


Miz J, is a frequent contributor to Crabby Golightly. Signs From Above commemorates the loss of her grandmother, who recently died after a long struggle with cancer. Many people asked her to send signs after her death, to which she scoffed, "That's not how it works." Or does it?

Check out Miz J's blog at Miz J.

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March 14, 2009

EXPECTING

Something's Fishy: Of Vitamins And Turtle Dreams

THEY CHANGED THE VITAMINS. The ones I should have technically been taking for the last 4 years. Stopping when Wednesday was about 9 months old seemed all right, though.

So at my most recent appointment my doctor informs me they added DHA to the pre-natals. This sounds great! More health for my baby without having to eat foods that my tummy doesn't love anymore!

But that night, I realize my mistake. Please Lord, can I have my old vitamins back? The new and improved version smell so bad, that just opening the lid knocks me over.

As someone who has cooked a few Thai dishes at home, I recognize the taste of these whopper-sized meds immediately: FISH SAUCE.

The vitamins taste like FISH SAUCE!!

And it takes all of two minutes for the burping of the fish sauce to commence. So while I'm trying my hardest to read children's literature to my boys, or you know,
SkippyJon I am fighting the fish. I'm struggling with the guppies in my gullet, trying to convince them to stay in my swishy pond.

I defeat that sea creature only to have another fill my mind. Most people realize that pregnancy ups the crazy dream count, and my most recent pregnancy dream does not dissapoint.

In a half-dream state, with Wednesday in my lap, he began his sleepytime routine of kneeing me in the bladder.


Unconsciously, my stomach slowly filled with turtles. Small ones; after all, I'm only 5 feet tall. Everytime Wednesday would poke me with his caps, a turtle would bubble up and try to escape.

I"m not sure how long the turtles planned their revenge, but by the time I finally woke up, I couldn"t even spare the time to put the kid in the bed!

What will ambush me next? Octopi and starfish?

But maybe Sebastian is right, I am certainly in luck to be in the midst of all this lovely muck.


Mz Ell is a stay-at-home mom who writes, reads, knits, and tries to maintain sanity on a regular basis. You can read her blog at Cookiemonks.

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March 13, 2009

YouTube

Pots O' Gold Or Found Misfortune? YouTube Leprechauns

MARCH IS MY LEAST FAVORITE MONTH, always has been.

I hate it when Spring leans across the bar and bats its eyelashes at you, but then relinquishes flirtation and reveals its true identity as "evil prude."

Meanwhile, fat middle-aged Winter, which has conveniently forgotten to apply deodorant, has been waiting in the wings and swoops down to try to buy you Jagerbombs.

March is the big bitch bartender who watches over this whole ordeal and laughs at you.

But suddenly, one day, March 17th to be exact, the month becomes infinitely more appealing. This is the day that the big bitch bartender pours me a pint of dark beer. Guinness and Bell's Porter will do that to a girl: convince her that her least favorite month isn't so bad after all.

Of course, I have Saint Patrick's Day to thank for the demystification of my now coveted brew, and, duh, leprechauns to thank for Saint Patrick's Day (right?). Okay, so while I know I'm totally wrong about the origins of the Irish holiday, I still have memorialized the glory of those magically delicious creatures with a few choice YouTube videos.

First , and foremost, allow yourself to be transported to Mobile, Ala., the site of perhaps the most recent leprechaun visit. There was, apparently, a leprechaun a tree, a sight which drew a crowd of real characters. A guy about 28 seconds into the clip, incites more brouhaha by yelling, "Who else
seen the leprechaun say yeeeeeeeeeeeahhhh!"

Another, at 1:40, is concerned only about the possibility of wealth, using the word "gold" four times in four seconds, remarkably encased in five complete sentences. Coincidently, shining a light on the leprechaun "makes it disappear."

But, thankfully, there were a few skeptics. One long-fingernailed man shared his sound theory, and a woman driving past in a car said that she believed that the so-called leprechaun was nothing but a
"crackhead that got hold to the wrong stuff and it told him to get up in the tree and play a leprechaun." There is also a man who "just came to help out," armed with his special leprechaun flute to ward off spells. This bullshit news cast even includes an "amateur sketch," which looks like the half-assed scrawl of a 5-year-old. Naturally, in typical Youtube fashion, there are plenty of remixes, my favorite being the Leprechaun Remix Screwed & Chopped.

My next favorite leprechaun-related clip is from Wayne's World 2, where Wayne is taunting Garth with his impression of
The Leprechaun. The nostalgic viewing of this classic SNL-derived film prompted me to find a trailer for The Leprechaun, which features horrible, monotone acting and Jennifer Aniston with her pre-Friends' nose.

Back when Austin Powers was under-produced and still funny, there was a character named Patty O’Brien, an ex-Irish assassin (He used to be Irish or used to be an assassin?) who leaves a charm from his bracelet on each of his victims. O’Brien then laments the fact that everyone is "always after his lucky charms."

Finally, I found Crank Dat Leprechaun. And I can't decide if I love it or if it makes me want to vomit, or maybe both. I would have assumed that all the Soulja Boy remixes and parodies would have deadened me to this particular one, but there is just something about douchey high school boys with a MacBook that makes me smile. But, then again, not quite as widely as a big, tall, frosty pint of beer. Drink up, and Happy Saint Patrick's Day!


Sophia Ulmer is a creative writing major at Columbia College in Chicago. She
enjoys drinking copious amounts of wine, riding her vintage bike, and snuggling with her
kitty-cat, Gretta. You can check out her cooking blog at
feckinfranchtoast.blogspot.com.

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SHOE MADNESS

Stalking A Stranger To Catch A Glimpse Of Her $7,000 Shoes

I GAVE UP HIGH HEELED SHOES YEARS AGO after I found myself, on a hot June afternoon, sitting on someone's stoop in severe pain.

My only 3" heels were killing me, hurting so bad I just took them off and walked the dirty, filthy streets barefoot.

It was not pretty, although the shoes were.

And, to seal my determination, my most stylish friend fell flat on her face while wearing 6" platforms sandals (we warned her!), cracking her nose in the process.

Louboutins was when Jessica Seinfeld gave 21 pairs to Oprah and everyone ooo'd and ahhh'd about the expensive gift.

I also found out that the shoes have distinctive red soles and really high heels.

I cringed at the height but was still fascinated by them. They are really beautiful shoes.

From then on I noticed them on the feet of many celebrities and the really rich - during Fashion Week and on various red carpets. So I felt almost giddy when I finally spotted a pair in person, on an actual person's feet!

There they were - the distinctive RED SOLE.

She was a tall, fit blonde, beautifully dressed and on her cell, thank goodness. That way she didn't notice me stalk, ah, following her down the block. Her Louboutins were taupe suede with tiny little tassels near the pinky toe that bounced as she walked. I followed her, not too close, for about 2 blocks, to note every detail.

Why? Who the hell knows.

I was going home from work so, why not follow someone you don't know just to look at her shoes? (I know, I know: Get a life!) Now I know they are expensive and gorgeous shoes. But in a recent LA Times article I found out just how expensive.

How about a pair for, ta dah - $7,000!

Designer Christian Louboutin has created a special edition shoe and named it the Marie Antoinette! How fitting - economy in the toilet, let them suck on shoes!

Described as an open-toe platform (ugh) high heel in satin, embroidered with colorful beads by the House of Jean-Francois Lesage, edged with a ruffling of chiffon and velvet, they include a porcelain doll face with a profuse wig on the strap.

Whew, that was a mouthful! They really are a gorgeous pair of shoes, drool-worthy doll face and all. Also noted in the Times article is that few of Louboutin's clients won't wear them under 4 or 5 inches!

Only 36 pairs have been made, girls, so get your orders in!

As for me? I’ll be ordering sneakers from Zappos.


SexyChattyCatty comments periodically at CrabbyGolightly.com on TV, America's favorite snack food.

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March 12, 2009

MEDIA MANIPULATION

Jon Stewart Delivers Comeuppance To Wall Street's Collusionary CNBC

NO TIME THIS MORNING TO REVIEW AMERICAN IDOL'S cast of wannabes who all frankly sound same as it ever was.

I'm taking the easy way today and presenting you with a clip from The Jon Stewart Show that is worth its weight in gold, or at least deserves some sort of whistleblowing award. Doesn't the government have some program where those who uncover criminal collusion reap the reward? Jon Stewart deserves some of that loot.

At the very least he deserves our gratitude for aiming point blank at media that is part of this country's problem and not the solution.

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March 11, 2009

BULLY PULPIT

Oprah Hits The Truth On the Head: Rihanna, He'll Do It Again

WHERE'S THE DEBATE?

All over the web, apparently.

The question is being asked: Is Oprah out of line warning Rihanna that "if a man hits you once, he will hit you again."

The skepticism might be the result of earlier suspicions that Oprah was playing "both sides" in the Chris Brown/Rihanna drama because, allegedly, Oprah's initial reaction to charges against Brown was less than bristling.

Celeb bloggers were quick to point out that the crooner Brown had helped promote O's South African school for girls.

According to the National Enquirer, "skeptics blast the talk queen’s call as
nothing more than a brazen attempt to secure an interview, and as one Web site said, 'lay the groundwork for an eventual on-air exclusive.' On her Feb. 20 show, Oprah created even more controversy by discussing a post-incident photo of a bruised Rihanna. …Gushing about Brown, Oprah called him “lovely…a wonderful, kind, generous guy."

But by Friday, after Brown's courtroom appearance and the gruesome details of the
assault were released, O was taking a different tact.

"The truth is guys, both Chris Brown and Rihanna, if I were your friend, I would call you up and I would say 'Give it some time, get yourself some counseling, take care of yourself, heal yourself first.' And also, 'Love doesn’t hurt.' I’ve been saying this to women for years - love doesn’t hurt. And if a man hits you once, he will hit you again. He will hit you again."

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March 10, 2009

RIHANNA YADA YADA

Tabloid Trash Talk

Rihanna's Beating Proves There's No Such Thing As Bad Publicity. Plus, Jen's Finally Preggers? And Oprah Seethes Over First Lady's Diss

OK I DON'T GET IT. WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH RIHANNA?

I really didn't care about her at all before this whole Ike and Tina act she and Chris Brown have started. But I figured since you're on the cover of every damn magazine in the rack these days I should check out your music. I found a few videos and, you know what? You're pretty but bland and overproduced, and you have that whole Take A Bow song about ditching the cheating bastard and you set fire to his shit and look all tough in your black tank top against a dark background like you're gonna knock someone out.

Remember when you sang, "You look so dumb right now. Standing outside my house. Trying to apologize. …And don't tell me you're sorry cause you're not. Baby when I know you're only sorry you got caught. But you put on quite a show."

But then I turn on the news and you're taking this kind of shit from a punk like Chris Brown? Please.

I'll give you that you’re only 21 and, despite your hyper-sexualized image, are still young enough to believe that the drama and the passion behind the screaming arguments and the dependency are the same thing as love. But they're not.

Real love is so fucking boring that once a celebrity finds themselves in love they drop off the radar completely. That's how boring love is.

Real love is hard to deal with when you're 21 and rollin' with big dawgs like Jay-Z and his whole East Coast crew, living in the fishbowl of celebrity. And you expect to put up with a measure of stupid shenanigans from a 19-year old boy, even when he does dress as sharp as CB.

But if all of the accounts that have been leaked to the press are true, you are just straight-up a dumbass.

There are not enough diamond bracelets in the world to make up for the fact that your battered and bruised face has been all over the media.

Your father is telling everyone with a mic and tape recorders that you dropped off the face of the earth, changed your numbers, and haven't been in touch with your family or your friends. But on Thursday your lawyer requested that Chris NOT be prohibited from contacting you while he waits for his arraignment to happen next month.

Rihanna, maybe it's time your manager explained some of the lyrics they have you singing. Or maybe you should change your tune to be more on key with this taking back your abuser message your real life is promoting.

Whew, I feel a little bit better.


There's nothing like adorable, well dressed babies to cleanse the palate. So now, on to celebrity baby news!


Rumors are fertile that Jen Aniston's expecting! Life & Style's reporting that Jen's been visiting Beverly Hills infertility specialist Dr. Mary Kerr to help her hatch a chickling with beau Jon Mayer. The doc even allegedly attended Jen's 40th birthday party in February. We know Jen has enough sense not to go for the Octo Mom act of Nadya and Angelina. Go, Jen, go!

And, less excitingly, Us Weekly reports Tori Spelling is potty training her son. I am so sure he's going to thank her later in life to know that this made magazines. Hope she's saving up to pay therapy bills. They also report that Jenna Elfman is doing her part to propagate the next generation of Scientologists by planning for a second baby. Hooray! Long live Xenu! Or, uh L. Ron! Oh, I always forget which one is which.

Speaking of babies, Octo Mom is still delivering headlines. Her second publicist has dumped her. "This woman is nuts," Victor Munoz tells Us Weekly.

Apparently Nadya Suleman needs a social worker to tell her that raising 14 kids as a single mom on food stamps isn't going to work out so well. But, she's obviously very serious about her commitment to her children. You can tell because she went on Dr. Phil, and you're only as serious as our talk show host-cum-shrink edits your interviews to be.


In further celebrity over-population projects InTouch reports that Jon & Kate, of
Plus Eight "fame," are headed toward divorce. I can’t imagine why. I’ve only seen what Talk Soup gives me of that show but gawd, she acts like a Type A bitch, doesn’t she? Jon has been spotted partying with college co-eds and they all think he’s "cool." This should prove once again what poor judgment skills college kids have.


To cover all of the baby bases, there's also a story on how Angelina and Brad’s sexy image are suffering now that they have this pint sized entourage with them. Angie has traded her leather dresses and leopard printed jackets in for draped dresses and oversized ski coats. I don't know how they can claim that either of them are "less hot" today than they were "then" especially when "then" involves Brad’s bleach blond Ken doll look or Angie's I'm-Crazy-And-Wear-Blood-In-A-Vial-On-A-Chain look. Also? Everyone is better looking with a baby.

The National Enquirer has a whole different standard for celebrity offspring reporting. Celine Dion's 8-year-old has been getting gambling tips from his dad. He's been getting grooming tips from his mom though; this kid looks like Sebastian Bach -– the one from Skid Row, not the German composer one. Get him a haircut before he finds a guitar and a drug addiction.


Talk about babies, NE has a story about Oprah’s ire at having to play second fiddle to the country’s newest Big O, the Obamas. It sounds like Michelle is pretty much done with Oprah laying claims to her husband and the White House. And after all she's done for them! Why, just this month she graciously agreed to share the cover of her magazine with the First Lady. And she’s never shared the cover before! Well, except for that time she had her dogs in the photo. But Michelle is the first HUMAN to make it onto the cover of O.

I guess the First Lady of the country needs to start showing the First Lady of Television the respect she deserves, who knows what will happen to their gallup poll ratings if they wind up on Oprah's Least Favorite Things List.


Vegas is a gambler who always loses money on craps. She spends her time in Chicago with her husband, two cats and various artistic endeavors which are beginning to take up way too much space in her house and hard drive. She blogs at jensaysanything.blogspot.com.

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March 08, 2009

CHAPTER ONE

All Is Quiet Here

YOU SHOULD HEAR THE WAY THESE PEOPLE SAY the address. "Two-one-one North Campbell. That's right, two-one-one." They must be from the East Coast or some place, because they don't have that Chi-caa-go accent. Their voices are pinched somehow.

All this family does is run around—soccer practice, band rehearsal, tap-dancing class and PTO meetings. Meanwhile, things stay quiet in the street. Garbage cans stay on the curb. Mrs. Olson's cat crawls along the yard undeterred. The neighbors all stay tucked cozily away in their cavernous living rooms, staring into their flat screen TVs.

And then there's Two Eleven, sitting, waiting, in need of some repairs and a family to love it instead of driving past it, pretending it's not theirs. Pretending the situation isn’t as dire as it is. Pretending they belong on this otherwise picturesque street. At least we knew the score. We were here first, before the Whole Foods, the mall, the movie theater, and we wanted so much to stay and keep the neighborhood somewhat as it was.

We had good intentions, despite the messes piling up in the den and Anthony's increasing inability to climb the stairs. Picking up the tipped-over trash outside just wasn't possible -- if only our new, Starbucks-guzzling neighbors understood, or at least reached out to see if they could help. But, before we knew it, the neighborhood had changed and left us behind.

The dog went first. When he attacked Mrs. Olson's cat, we knew it was the beginning of the end. The day they made us put Smokey down was one of the saddest in my life.

He was such a great dog, except when it came to that damn cat. One time it got hold of the squirrel in our yard and Smokey ripped part of the front door off with his teeth to try and protect it. That old door was made of solid oak, and he just tore through it. And then the neighbors started calling the cops about the vicious dog, like they ever get involved with anything in this neighborhood in the first place. They'd just sit inside all day with their laptops and coffee like nothing else matters, and then they decided, somehow, that this was the last straw, and to come after Smokey. Maybe Sandy will let the girls get a dog and they"ll teach it to fetch and sit and all the other things that Smokey did.

There's no lingering garlic smell from the pastas and sauces I used to make. In fact, I bet these people don't even know how to cook anything without using the microwave. No wonder the kids are hyperactive. Always with the jumping and yelling, as if tap dancing, band rehearsals and soccer aren't enough to wear them down. Beautiful noise, these two keep telling themselves, but the walls are decorated with Crayolas instead of the fine coats of carefully applied paint we used to touch up every year. How beautiful can that BE? They say they're gonna update and fix things, but they certainly don't have the money for that, let alone this new mortgage. Keeping up appearances is difficult, you know.

He's a banker of some high order, but he knows something everyone else doesn't. Keeps talking about the market busting up, and how everyone's mortgages are in trouble. That's ridiculous -- the most stable things in the world are the four walls around you. Especially if you build'em right. Hell, we spent forty-two years here. He tells his wife when they lay in bed at night worrying that it’s all a big scam, and that they're lucky he walked away with some of the chump change when he did.


He's not working right now. Got out before it was too late, he says to his wife. She's not happy and you can tell. They've lived here six months with no smiles. The moonlight that peers in from their window just right, like it did when we lay there, doesn't inspire romance, it just keeps them awake -- arguing, worrying and waiting.


Our son Bobby drives by once in a while, stopping at the curb to take a quick look. Sometimes our granddaughter is with him, and he points to the window on the side to tell her that that was his room, and he and Aunt Beth used to pretend they lived in a castle, and the thick tree branches that extended toward the pane were a bridge he had to cross, and that one time, he fell and broke his leg. How he wailed for me!


The tree's tentacle-like branches finally extended up with the rest of it into some power lines, and it was cut down last month. Bobby cried just a little when he saw, turning his head away from the babies in the backseat. He called Beth right away to tell her the news. It was sweet that they planted some of the tree at my stone. It's grown a bit this year, and the grandbabies leave pictures and things under it for me and wonder if I will ever see
them. I wonder if they'll begin to understand soon that I see everything.


Miz J is a frequent contributor to Crabby Golightly. Signs From Above commemorates the loss of her grandmother, who recently passed after a long struggle with cancer. Many people asked her to send signs upon her death, to which she scoffed, "That's not how it works." Or does it?


You can check out Miz J's blog at Miz J.

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March 07, 2009

NOTHING TO FEAR BUT...

Hope On The Horizon! Shrinks Insinuate Fear Could Deliver Us From Economic Downturn

GREAT NEWS!

This is just what the death-anxiety, materialistic among us were waiting to hear. This is the permission we needed to …SPEND!

Psychologists at two U.S. universities have released a study concluding that the combination of "death anxiety" and materialism leads people to become strongly attached to brands.

That sounds so bleak, so depressing! But wait! The studies' authors suggest there is a the silver lining:

"Materialistic consumers with anxiety about their existence are especially in need of the symbolic security that brand connections provide…Given the recent rise in materialistic tendencies, along with the media's heightened focus on existential threats, the number of consumers who display this combination of values and motives should increase in the near future."

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EXPECTING

Coming Around Again

I KNEW.

We knew, my husband and I both, but we almost pretended we couldn't hear that small little voice making it's presence known.

Creation came just days before the first should have made us three. Unknown hormones plus painful memories made me crazy.

Three days late I bought a test.

With "the baby" in the playpen I went with my trusty cup and wondered if I would pass.


The directions open in front of me, I watched my "self" move across the window. "Wait a minute, I thought the test line was on the right?"

I called my husband, who was advising a student in his office and said, "Well, I can tell you now or wait until you get home.


"I'm pregnant!"


So now we're going at it all again… Some things are so much the same, it seems eery.

Is there large furniture waiting to be put together? Yes. Did I spend the first two months feeling dizzy, sick, and tired all morning? Yes. Am I already having the kind of pains that aren't supposed to come for months? Yes.


But there is significantly less anxiety this time. Before this zygote wiggled it's way into my heart, the only way I felt at peace with my future was with three kids in it. There was always one missing; one that got away.


The boys call this one "Tummy Baby," and Winston insists it's either a girl, or that there are two babies in my belly. Whoever this may be has an official arrival date of October 3, 2009.


Mz Ell is a stay-at-home mom who writes, reads, knits, and tries to maintain
sanity on a regular basis. You can read her blog at href="http://www.cookiemonk.blogspot.com/">Cookiemonks.

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HIGH INTEREST, LOW READERS

The Story of 'Chris And Rihanna' For Beginner Readers

OH, OH!' SAID RIHANNA.


"Let's play!,'' Rihanna said.

'Yes, let's play!,'' said Chris Brown.

'Uh oh!' said Rihanna. 'Uh oh. Oh no!'

'Look, look!,' Mr. Policeman. 'Look! look! look!'

'I see,' said Mr. Policeman.

'My hand slipped,' said Chris Brown. 'It was an accident.'

Rihanna is sad. Sad, sad Rihanna.

'Watch!,' said Chris. 'Watch me play!'

'Look at me!,' Chris exclaimed. 'Look, look, look!'

'See! I can swim! I can sun! I can ski!'

'Uh, oh,'' said Mr. Policeman. 'You're under arrest.'

'Oh, no!,' cried Chris. 'No, no, no!'

Poor Rihanna.

Run, Rihanna! Run, run, run!

Run as fast as you can!

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March 05, 2009

MY TWEET HEART

Paris Hilton's Following Me On Twitter! And I Didn't Think She Even Knew My Name!

MY HEART FLUTTERS, MY BLOOD RACES, AND MY BIG BROWN EYES OPEN WIDER WHEN I first see the message:

Paris_Hilton is following me on Twitter!

I'm just so…flabbergasted! Flattered! Touched! I mean, I'm just a little ol' blogger from the Great Lakes and I can't think of any one thing I ever did to get one of Hollywood's prima Princesses to notice me!

I thought the Hilton heiress would be through with the Internet after her cellphone was hacked and the numbers of all her celebrity friends' were set loose on the web.

Maybe she heard about me through Nicole? I mean, I did once work with her uncle, but that was ages ago, and frankly, I don't think he'd want to admit it. I was the one who outed him in the office when the BMW dealer called and said his ride was ready. Up until then, he kept us all thinking he just drove this modest mini-truck, if memory serves. When asked why he didn't want to cash in on his
connection, he called Hollywood "unreal." I loved him for that.


Why, I don't even think Paris has been mentioned once in Crabby Golightly, though that could be considered a favor in Bloggerland. She can't say the same for those poison pens spilling virtual ink over at TMZ and Gawker. To be honest, I haven't always been impressed with her, especially when she was keeping company with Firecrotch douser Brandon Davis. That cad invented new obscenities to toss at LiLo before she was a lesbian all awhile TMZ's cameras were rolling. Paris, seriously, didn't your mother warn you about hanging out with such boys? Benji
was a much better choice, albeit the tattoos, too bad that didn't work out.

So anyhoo, thanks again for keeping me on your radar. I promise I'll be nicer now, maybe even mention when you have some new perfume or clothing line coming out.

Here's my only question: how do I really know it's really you?

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March 04, 2009

GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH

Britney's Back Again, Bitches! (But Don't Bother Calling, She Doesn't Have A Cellphone)

YEA, YEA, SHE'S BACK. America's Top Tart opened a 32-date tour yesterday in New Orleans, and critics are serving up sentences with words like "sexy" and "tightly choreographed" and "eye-popping."

But DOES this life still make Brit happy anymore? That's the ten million dollar question. People mag published that "there was a decided lack of joy in her performance, which felt labored at times."

Brit's taught us all that even fame and fortune can't buy you happiness, a good lawyer or even
a cellphone!


Yet the new Circus tour is reported to be visually stunning: Britney commanding
center stage in a hot new body and ringmaster getup, accented by fire and lights.


Some critics are
claiming BritBrit's relying too much on the lip sync. But this is BRITNEY we’re talking about -- we all know she’s not exactly a vocal powerhouse. Much like Madonna, the songs are secondary to the stage theatrics.

Or, in Britney's case, what she does OFF the stage.


It would be great if she did a tour so amazing that we forgot all about the past few years
where things fell apart for our girl. But the fact is, no matter how incredible she is on
stage, fans are always going to wonder and worry once the show’s over.

Because as we've all seen before, once the lights dim, that’s when the real spectacle begins.



Miz J, who works in advertising, has tons of opinions and a big mouth to broadcast them across the globe; however, the Internet saves her the trouble of yelling.
Check out her blog at Miz J.

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THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE

In The Chris Brown-Rihanna Drama, Facts Remain Elusive

JUST LIKE WHITNEY STAYED WITH BOBBY, Rihanna will stay with Chris Brown.When the news broke that Brown was arrested for battery, wildfire gossip spread that he had assaulted his long-time girl-companion.

The pictures of a battered Rhianna surfaced and Brown's endorsements were pulled, just about as quickly as Michael Phelps were after the shot of him drinking the last bit of water out the bong and blowing smoke circles from his ears (okay,slight exaggeration) surfaced.

Celebrities who've come to his defense retracted their statements based on their previous ignorance and the severity of the situation.

Radio stations held their morning talk section of the shows based on whether a woman could provoke a man to hit her;
MTV
ran an hour long special on Brown & Rhianna's relationship. Rhianna's father, whoever that is, chimed in saying that he supported his daughter in her decision to reunite with the hip crooner.

And apparently financially deprived "relatives" granted interviews stating they don't want to see a reconcilation. For the moment, Brown & Rhianna are the main attraction of the media's circus.

The problem is, we don't know shit about Rhianna and Chris Brown's relationship. Nada. Nothing. The couple is notoriously private and have never, up until Rihanna's recent
declaration of love and support for her sparring partner, disclosed details of or admitted to being in a relationship.


The whole world is weighing in on it. Usher slams Chris for playing water sports while Rihanna's still in hiding.


Diddy suggests we give Brown a break. The swaggerific Don may have a point. We really don't know what happened.

The media is turning what could be a very private, hurtful event into a cash cow and the public is eating up every cock and bull story and ordering a chocolate mousse for dessert to top it off. It's ridiculous.

If the bird-chested, mezzo soprano, Michael Jackson-impersonating , not-a-boy, not-yet-a man, Brown is an abuser, then hopefully his cajones will split and catch fire the
next time he does a backflip, sommersault into a full layout on stage.

Then I hope that girl who spit on New York on Flavor of Love come and douses the fire with a lougie, summoned from the bottom of her soul while K Fed raps about being able to love a beautiful, successful, independent woman without feeling emasculated. That'll teach him!

However, if details are never revealed and the public never knows what happens then I wish the couple the best. For the photographer that captures the oh-so-elusive photo of the couple canoodling, post-dysfunction, take to me to Spain with you using the $100, 000 you'll catch for the photo.

But until we know the truth, it's time to discern fact from fiction, ignore idiot-based rumors and though the media refuses, try to stay neutral. Enjoy the soap opera and hope for the best.

I'll still be singing Run It! when I pretend to be a prebuscent boy for Halloween while twirling in the rain with a island-infused umbrella-ella-ella, hey, hey, hey, eh.


Shakenya Jackson boasts she is among Chicago's finest writers. She enjoys long walks in the park and dirty dishes.

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HOLDING

Does God Return Calls? Netherlands Man Opens Phone Line to the Man Upstairs

HAVEN'T WE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR THIS?

Isn't this just what we'd expect in the era of instant gratification and in-your-face manners?

Obviously skilled in the ways of marketing, Dutch artist Johan van der Dong has set up a Netherlands telephone number where you can leave messages for God.

van der Dong told Reuters that he set up the line "to give people an opportunity to take pause and contemplate life. Like praying, leaving a voicemail message is a way to organize your thoughts," he said. "It's a perfect combination for some contemplation."

Beginning March 7th, callers dialing 06-4424-4901 (or +316-4424-4901 if calling from
outside the Netherlands) will hear, "Hi, you are speaking to God. I'm not in right now so
leave a message after the beep."


Now's your chance to pour out your soul, cry for salvation, repent, or just demand an
explanation of why you can't have babies, your body is decaying, and/ or how you're
supposed to retire now that your 401K is down the toilet?


We, of course, recognize there are even more serious questions we could ask God, like why
is there war, hunger, violence against women and children, greed, injustice -- you name it,
I want the answer.

I've spent a lifetime frustrated by the "he only gives you what
challenges you can carry," and the "pain is to make life more meaningful" platitudes.



But here's my first question: By calling 'God,' am I giving Johan van Der Dong the
perpetual rights to my thoughts?

My guess: we'll find out when the book comes out.

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March 03, 2009

YouTube

YouTube's Ronald Jenkees Plays Techno Without The Pretense

LAST SATURDAY, I WENT TO EXCALIBUR -- a sordid Chicago nightclub -- to listen to a couple of my roommate's favorite DJs.

After sifting through throngs of douchebags, blowing $6 on a bottle of water, and drunkenly being flopped around by a mass of dudes scolding me for calling the "trance" music "techno," a condescending bimbo leaned in and whispered/yelled into my ear "Umm, honey, your fly is down!"

That was it. I decided I hated electronic music and all of its followers. I was determined to be a dirty acoustic-loving hippie for the rest of my days. Until… I remembered Ronald Jenkees, a self-taught keyboard fiend who got his start on YouTube.

His fingers are swift, and his "beats" are sweet.


At best, Jenkees is what you would call eccentric. "Before you ask," he writes on
his YouTube homepage, "I’m a perfectly normal and healthy guy, just a little geeky and
different—but that’s a good thing, not a bad thing."

He states this so early-on because it is not outside the realm of possibility that this dude has some chromosomal abnormality—be it one that debilitates or gives super-human powers (or both).


Geeky is the word to describe Ronald, as displayed in his non-musical video
How to Snap Your Finger the Cool Way. His glasses, gaping wide mouth, and goofy giggle are the epitome of dweeb. And I love it.


Evidently lots of other people do, too, because to date almost 100,000 have subscribed. Many of his videos have more than a million views, and most have over 1,000 comments apiece.


This guy is infectious, and not in a bad way like a disease.


He begins each video with an up-the-nose shot, squinty eyed, squeaking "Hey YouTubes!" and then usually describes the "weird beat" to which we, the viewers, are about to have our faces melted off.


My personal favorite is A Fun Beat From Outer Space.


I will never tire of his facial expressions, ranging from intent concentration to sheer glee, as he plays. It’s so sweet at the end of this video when he encourages everyone to keep playing music, and if it doesn’t turn out well, to "keep on playing…I’ve got a bunch of beats I don’t show anybody. Some are terrible!" Doubtful, Ronald.


But Jenkees is not always having Disorganized Fun with his music. He can also bring it down a notch, creating tunes such as "Slow Jams, for real this time." Lay me down, Ronald, lay me down.

Because of this guy, I can forgive the rest of the tech crowd all its wrongdoings, and even entertain taking his advice to Stay Crunchy, whatever that means.


Sophia Ulmer is a creative writing major at Columbia College in Chicago. She enjoys drinking copious amounts of wine, riding her vintage bike, and snuggling with her kitty-cat named Gretta. You can check out her cooking blog at
feckinfranchtoast.blogspot.com.

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March 02, 2009

CAN'T GET ENOUGH

Tabloid Trash Talk

More Octo-Mom Chronicles! Plus! Jen Aniston Slays Her Demons By Facing Them

THAT BASTION OF UNVARNISHED JOURNALISM The National Enquirer is still keeping Nadya ''OCTO-MOM'' Suleman in the spotlight.

For lack of any more pertinent information, the Enquirer focuses on speculation that she might, someday, possibly have more children…maybe.

The spat between Nadya and her mother is well publicized and now Angela says she fears the only thing that may stop Nadya from having more children is getting her tubes tied.

The secrecy with which Nadya underwent previous in vitro treatments has Octo-Granny worried that she might someday have more babies on her hands that her daughter is unprepared to take care of.

With a family website up and running for donations, the talk show circuit under her belt and Vivid Entertainment making her $1 million film offers, Nadya's pretty much milked these babies even before getting them home!

Meanwhile, the rest of the world was watching the Oscars. And, while some people think it’s all about the awards, or even the fashions, OK!, US Weekly and Star are in agreement that the 81st Annual Academy Awards was all about Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie and Jennifer Aniston being in the same camera frame together.

OK! cuts through the crap and lays the obvious comparisons on the table for us. Angie vamped in her drapey black number and emeralds while Jen was a vision of virtuousness in shimmering white. While Angie played the role of confident Ice Queen in her first row seat, Jen was obviously nervous during her presentation of animation awards. All of OK’s body language experts agree that Jen’s main focus was Pitt.

Poor animators, they thought the moment was going to be about them! Producers know how to butter their bread, though, and heightened the "drama" with cutaways to Brangelina’s expressions during Jen’s scripted speech.


Star seems to think that the world’s sexiest good will ambassador was faking her Oscar good will. A "source" says that despite the camera-ready smiles Angelina put on during the show, she refused to speak to Aniston when asked by Pitt to join him in a chat with his A-List ex. What could she say? Sorry I stole your husband?

What’s more is that the Oscar nominated duo ditched out on Vanity Fair’s post Oscar party to avoid Jen and rocker beau, John Mayer. It sounds like Jen had a good time anyway, taking the opportunity to introduce Mayer to La La Land's elite as her “boyfriend.”


US Weekly goes deep into awards show's workings to explain how these two high-profile couples actually managed to not have any face time together on the red carpet or in the auditorium itself.

Producers claim that they ushered Jen and John through a side door to maintain an element of surprise. But it’s not like anyone didn’t know Jen was a presenter. John Mayer had been blogging and twittering about going to the Oscars for weeks, why else would he be tuxing it up for the evening? The rest of the evening sounds like a game of hide-and-go-seek between Brangelina and…do we have a nickname for Jen and John yet? JeJohn? Animayer?

It sounds like Brad and Angie won the night though, and Jen and John only left for the Vaniety Fair party after the “coast was clear” and the Jolie-Pitts had gone home without Oscars' company.


I wonder if this is the type of hype Nadya Suleman really wants for herself and her children: Every move and smile analyzed; every statement and posture pondered for a deeper, more dramatic meaning.

Suleman and her children have enough obstacles ahead of them without the media circus that Nadya seems to crave.

This love affair the tabloids have with the Pitt/Jolie/Aniston love triangle feels like it’s never going to end though so it might be a welcome reprieve when Suleman knocks them off the front pages with her future antics –teaming up with Jon & Kate (of Plus Eight infamy) in a reality parenting show, moving her children into the Scientology Celebrity Center.

We'll all be watching should Nadya ever get her brood of 14 together under one roof.


Vegas is a gambler who always loses money on craps. She spends her time in Chicago with her husband, two cats and various artistic endeavors which are beginning to take up way too much space in her house and hard drive. She blogs at jensaysanything.blogspot.com.

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March 01, 2009