I mean, you know, if I saw a celebrity on the streets of Smallville, I’d whip out my trusty camera for a snapshot or two.
I mean, even if they were browsing through the antiques, or getting a soda at The Gate, I’d happily snap away.
But someone, and I ain’t sayin’ it was me, got a little too close to Jake Gyllenhaal when trying to photograph him.
Hell, they got a little too close to, um, Little Jake, too.
At the South by Southwest Film/Music festival this week, one fan got way too close for comfort to Jake Gyllenhaal. He actually took a picture of Jakey Gyllenhaal as he relieved himself, which made Jake all kinds of mad.
And scuffling mad, too.
When asked about the “rather heated scuffle in the theater bathroom last night” as a fan tried to take his picture, Jake laughed and said, “That’s true. I think it’s an appropriate space to keep privacy. I hope that people wouldn’t disagree with me on that.”
Jake’s rep says there was no scuffle, that Jake very politely asked me, er, the guy, to delete the picture from his camera, and I, um, he, did.
And, so while there is no photographic proof, yet, I will say this: “It’s real, and it’s spectacular.”
Will male celebrities never learn?
Perhaps some of them, but not Ryan Phillippe, who will be ALLEGEDLY adding to his brood of two kids because his ex-girlfriend, whom he dated for all of a hot minute, is ALLEGEDLY got a bun in the oven.
According to PEOPLE–and they would know, wouldn’t they–Phillippe’s ex-girlfriend, actress Alexis Knapp, is pregnant and in her second trimester.
The couple dated on-and-off for a few months last year, and now there’ll always be a reminder of the good times.
I usually get a souvenir to remind me of special times, not a baby.
But, that’s just me.
Color me shocked.
I mean, I always thought you go on a TV show for six or eight weeks, date twenty or thirty people, have sex with five or so, then declare your love for two just as you propose to The One.
I mean, doesn’t it work like that in real life?
It seems that mere moments after The Bachelor, Brad Womack, proposed to Emily Maynard on this weeks episode, millions of fans–hold up…..millions of fans? Really–were shocked to learn that the couple have already gone through a breakup.
Brad had declared that after being the Bachelor once and picking no one, that this time he was ready to settle down and date, marry, and impregnate a young woman on TV.
Now, it seems the dream has died.
One of her dreams was to star in a movie version, albeit another movie version, of Gypsy, that Broadway classic about show business and the quintessential stage mother.
That dream like the dream of Brad and Emily, has also died.
It seems that Gypsy playwright Arthur Laurents, along with co-creator Stephen Sondheim, have scrapped the entire project, leaving Babs heartbroken.
Laurents holds the rights to the 1959 Broadway musical and agreed that Barbra could play the role of Mama Rose, even telling the New York Post: “Barbra … knows what she’s doing. She has my approval.” But now the 93-year-old Laurents has changed his mind after he spoke with the musical’s lyricist Stephen Sondheim.
Sondheim ALLEGEDLY asked Laurents: “What is the point of” doing another movie. And now Laurents has said, “I don’t want it now. I want it to stay alive. I think (Streisand) is disappointed. She wanted very much to do it. That would have been a good exit for her career. Tom Hooper wanted to direct it. I think he’s wonderful.”
All those wonderful people out of a job.
But Babs isn’t said to be upset by the decision. She has ALLEGEDLY told friends that all she has to do is ‘wait it out,’ meaning that if Laurents were to die, she could buy the rights and do the film anyway.
Wow, waiting for someone to die just to get a job.
She should’a been Vice President.
There’s a new show on NBC called The Voice, where they will take young unknowns, allow them to audition before four judges, then let them sing onstage in front of millions of people, who will vote for them, and make one of them the next American Ido….superstar.
Sounds like another show, eh?
Well, it isn’t, so there!
This show has four judges, not three, and there called coaches, not judges. And The Voice producers say there show will be intent on building its contestants up, not “tearing them down” like some other competitions we know…”
Like, um, what?
The coaches for The Voice are Steven Tyler, er, I mean, Maroon 5‘s Adam Levine, Miss Jennifer Lopez, um, that would be Miss Christina Aguilera, Cee Lo Green and Blake Shelton; the host will be Ryan Seacrest-lite–if one could ever get lighter than Seacrest–Carson Daly.
See, it’s nothing like American Idol.
In fact, it’s so not AI that Christina Aguilera stopped mid-Cosmopolitan to say: “This isn’t about tearing people down. I want to bring these people up. The Voice really does stand for what it says. Instinctually, you can judge people based on the way they look. I love that fact we get to sit here with our backs turned away from these people and completely use just one sense to hear these voices. I’m not looking for vocal acrobatics, who has biggest range [of] high and low. I’m looking forward to getting moved.”
I’m looking forward to you getting help.
What won’t people snort?
I mean, seriously. Coke, crack, comet, you name it. Rolling Stones guitarist Keith Richards even admitted to snorting his late father’s ashes, and now it seems that burnt remains are becoming the nasal substance of choice.
Enter Courtney Love.
According to author Neil Strauss, author of ‘Everybody Loves You When You’re Dead: Journeys Into Fame And Madness’, the Hole singer considered snorting the ashes of her late husband, Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain.
Strauss said, “She walked to a dresser, pulled open a drawer, and removed a square-shaped tin,” Strauss said. “She removed the lid, revealing a plastic bag full of white ashes” and said to him, “Too bad you don’t do coke. Otherwise I’d suggest taking a metal straw to it.”
Strauss declined, because, well, snorting the ashes of a cremated rock star is not something one does every day, unless you’re Courtney Love.
Or maybe Keith Richards.
You know, just yesterday I printed a quote by Jodie Foster, where she gushes with love about alcoholic-misogynist-anti-Semite-homophobic-girlfriend-batterer Mel Gibson.
Odd, then, that Melvin was conspicuously absent from the South by Southwest Film Festival premiere of the film he made with Foster, The Beaver. Now, it’s true, he was a little tied up in LA pleading No Contest to hitting his girlfriend while she held their child, but still……
And though Jodie was singing his praises on the red carpet, it is ALLEGED that it was her idea to keep Gibson away from the film festival showing of their movie.
A source–and by source, I mean any one of Jodie’s traveling lesbian entourage–says, “Having him attend was just going to be too big of a risk. He could have gotten booed on the red carpet before the film even began. Everyone including Jodie decided it would be better if Mel didn’t attend.”
it would be better if Gibson went to prison.