Ashley Olsen Lanced by Armstrong

File under C for cradle robbing, Page Six reports that everyone's formerly favorite biker boy Lance Armstrong was spotted at the Rose Bar at the Gramercy Park Hotel making out big time with the diminutive Ashley Olsen. I'm at a loss for words on this one- and that rarely happens.

There's so much ick factor that I don't quite know where to begin. It isn't the age thing actually, though it is amusing that as the only in his 30s Lance is considered ancient in his sport he begins exhibiting signs of dirty old man-ism by trading in the 40ish Tory Burch and 40more Sheryl Crowe for one half of an eerily well paid cruel joke of nature, it's more just the game of celebrity date swap. We know that they're vacuous, overpaid and for the most part interchangeable- we didn't realize though that they knew it as well.

(And yes, someday I will in fact pontificate in great depth about that *it* factor that women like Sheryl Crowe and Pattie Boyd may or may not possess, I think it's more a case of wanting to have what your other famous compadres have.)

Ain't Love Grand?

Always The Bridesmaid...

I had lunch earlier this week with the always wise, always wonderful K, who for once wasn't dressed bettter than I was. K makes me take a look at all the disfunctional relationships I've ever encountered and suspect that even I might someday be able to crack the code of happily ever after. Anyway, while I suspect that I'll never find a boyfriend as perfect as his, I might just find someone halfway decent- I'll keep you posted on that front.

It was one of those perfect autumn days, so I decided to walk as far down Fifth Avenue as my cruel shoes would allow. I passed one movie set that didn't really catch my interest. Yawn- what was that that Russell Crowe was saying about New Yorkers being unimpressed with movie sets? It's true. They're a fact of NYC life, and you get used to seeing and avoiding them- like fresh dog poo on the sidewalk. Anyway, an even bigger set in front of the 42nd Street Library made me stop to take notice. The crowd was giddy and mostly centered around a huge towncar. One particularly obnoxious junior errand person urged the crowd to walk by and 'pretend to be normal New Yorkers.' Well, normal New Yorkers don't take too kindly to being ushered off of their sidewalks on one of the most beautiful days of the year, nor do we particularly like being talked down to, so the crowd swelled to even greater proportions.

As I walked past said limo I peeked inside and saw Sex and the City gals Kim Catrall holding a lovely posie of flowers, Kristin Davis looking vaguely bewildered and that telltale aqua feather that gave away the presence of Sarah Jessica Parker in that hideous dress (the white blob in the center of the pic- I know, the paparazzi shots are so much better than cheapo cell phone pics)- and trust me, that getup is (butt) uglier in real life. In that nanosecond they emerged from the car and I unwillingly became an additional bridesmaid to everyone's most popular and conflicted celluloid old maid. As I walked down the street to get away from the hysteria, the crowd walked along with me and the frankly scary looking SJP, who just looked pained by the process.

Let me explain for a moment, I'm the person who hates attending weddings. Not because the act of marriage bugs me, but because of the hype and hysteria involved. How ironic then, to be thrust into one of the biggest manufactured nuptials of the day.

Ain't Love Grand?

So You Think You Can Sing?

Apparently, J.Lo(w record sales) is one demanding diva- No! I'd NEVER have guessed! But wait, apparently, the diva from Da Bronx "costs too much money and doesn’t sell enough,” (this from a source close to Epic Records and Epic’s parent company, Sony BMG).

So what constitutes too much?

“Her last album cover alone cost $60,000 in hair and makeup, lighting, photographers, re-touching, etc. The video budget was in the neighborhood of $300,000.”

And that’s just what it costs to get the album out the door. Lopez performed on “Good Morning America” earlier this month, and all the costs were absorbed by the label. “Epic had to eat the cost for that entire performance. From her makeup — which typically costs in the neighborhood of $8,000 per day — to the backup singers, to the rigging, lighting and sound,” says a source close to the Lopez camp. “The woman requires everything short of flying monkeys to get on a stage.”

See, but maybe the screeching flying monkeys would at least distract us from Lopez' voice.

While we're on the topic EIGHT THOUSAND DOLLARS?!??!?
PER DAY!??!?!
FOR MAKEUP!??!?!?
Now this is the woman rumoured to slather La Mer on her generous posterior, but for that amount of money I'd be expecting Piaf.

Onward Christian Dior Soldiers

No, As A Matter Of Fact I Won't Be Commenting on Seinfeld On Letterman

Thank you for all of the e-mails about how up in arms you were when Jerry trashed that other cookbook chick (Missy Chase Lapine the somewhat porny named author of “The Sneaky Chef") on Letterman last night.

We're all in unison on this one here, it's awkward if not completely tacky to pimp out your wife's cookbook just because you have enough money not only to buy her a reputation, but to slander someone else's at the same time (not to mention all of those shoes).

I used to find Jerry Seinfeld amusing, I even think that Seinfeld [the show] captured the zeitgeist of an era in a way that no one else did. In that regard I think that the Seinfelds have also captured the zeitgeist of our own celebrity obsessed/obsessive materialism/complete loss of soul/have/have not era in a way that suits their over the top lifestyle in a way that is depressing if not completely cautionary-- at best. Jerry Seinfeld as the new Gordon Gekko-(or Michael Bloomberg or Donald Trump) who knew?

As You Were....

Dead Celebrities Earn Mucho Dead Presidents

File this one under D for Depressing. While I futz about my day trying to scheme a scheme to finally pay me what what I'm worth (add another zero darling and I'll be a much less bitter old maid), celebrities who are long past their sell date are raking in the big bucks.

Forbes by way of MSNBC reports that from Elvis to Einstein (with a Warhol and Monroe thrown in for good measure) famous folks are frequently worth more dead than alive, with Mr. Presley's estate having generated $49 million dollars (that's a hell of a lot of peanut butter and banana sandwiches) in the last year alone (lucky Lisa Marie who owns a 15% stake in all this happiness).

And if you're wondering how Courtney Love can afford all of that new and improved nip and tuckage and peroxide (oh, gee, sorry. I meant health shakes) her departed former mate Kurt Cobain, (who one hopes has reached Nirvana) didn't appear on the list even though last year he had the dubious dead distinction of debuting in first place after the widow Love sold part of his song catalog for a reported $50 million. As if it isn't depressing enough to hear our fave tunes from the '80s selling everything from burgers to bras, in the near future we just might hear Smells like Teen Spirit on deodorant commercials.

As You Were....

Men Are From Lars - Scary Halloween Movie Alert!

Oh wait, silly me Lars and the Real Girl is supposed to be a sweet, romantic comedy in which the main character, traumatized by past life events falls in love with a woman (read sex doll) that he 'met' on the internet.*

That's not creepy at all.

Apparently the filmmakers took their inspiration from the celebrity arm candy of people like George Clooney and Matthew (put a damn shirt on already) Mcconaughey who seem to be dating their own Biancas.

Hey, just think about it for a second, with boob jobs and butt implants, collagen and Botox most of Hollywood is pretty close to being or finding their own silicone based true loves as well.

Ain't Love Grand?
* And no, I won't take cheap pot shots at internet dating. That's the way that we've met after all...

More Dumbledore

I know, I KNOW, you don't particularly care about the Harry Potter stuff, once toting around the latest tome no longer guarantees you so hip it hurts status.

Just a quick thought though- Edward Rothstein has a really thought provoking essay on the whole Dumbledore is gay thing. Truly lovely and as is his wont it's almost theological in citing detailed sources and resources- you should read it if you care about these things.

Thing is Eddie, who are we kidding? JK is hinting at a prequel (poor dear's proposed mystery series must really not be going well, public posturing notwithstanding) and to keep public interest up she's got to start the buzz way in advance. As book series go though, you've got to give the woman credit for creating an entire generational hysteria around what was at one point thought to be mostly ripped off plot. Wonder who'll be reading any of this stuff in a decade.

As You Were....