Dish Upon a Star

Archive for January 2011

1:50pm, 23rd and 7th Avenue: On our way to see Black Swan, we walked by Frank Whaley, looking happy as a clam and holding hands with two lively yapping kids (I assume, his). Such a bucolic scene before our descent into ballerina hell.

My purpose for seeing Black Swan was to love Natalie Portman because Julia does. I had to get over my inexplicable envy hatred of NP (everyone thinks she’s so AMAZING and BEAUTIFUL and I don’t get it). Mission accomplished! I love Natalie now and her black swan scene made me shake with pleasure and fear. Black Swan is a magnificent panic attack. Darren Aronofsky makes dark effed up movies but they are a cut above the rest. Poor TG is traumatized.

SAG Awards tonight.


I may wake up at 3:30 am for the love of tennis. It will be about Day #3 of Charlie Sheen in rehab. For some, life is rehab and I’m thankful at least that another porn star is grabbing her 15 minutes of fame in today’s Post.

As Two and a Half Men goes on hiatus, Egypt may be falling apart (just discovered TG hacked into my dishnotes and added the following: “a shame because Mubarak invented that clever cube.”). It’ll be okay because today is Oprah’s birthday. And some justice served as Jesse James’s crazy ex was arrested for harassment. There will be no peace for that family.

Dish will avoid all global turmoil with more reading of Confessions of a Prairie Bitch by Alison Arngrim (aka Nellie Oleson on Little House on the Prairie.)

1:15 pm–24th between 5th and 6th Avenue. Our beloved JJ was coming back from Home Depot (buying a toolbelt and some screws) when he passed Sarah Ferguson walking by his salon as JJ was coming back from Home Depot. He texts Dish, “She had Irish setter red hair and her freckled skin was the same shade! She walks like a cross between an old woman and a monkey!”

JJ tells it like it is. I wish I could write what he posted about mothers and their strollers during rush hour. I was laughing like an old woman/monkey for hours.

Dream come true: Julia on Ellen’s Birthday show and she admits to having the same television taste as Dish. Here’s the evidence:

…unless you’re a few members of my family who lived hard and died of nothing related to their indulgences. There are those undeserving who are struck down for no good reason. Then there’s Charlie Sheen, who is doing that downward death spiral we all hate to watch. He was rushed to the hospital today, complaining of severe stomach pains after an alleged bender of booze, coke and escorts (this sounds too cliche to be real). He has five children, a string of fun movies and a hit TV show. Why does he want to die?

Dish watched Wall Street 2: Money Never Sleeps. I love glitzy movies about money, especially if they involve Michael Douglas. His best line: “Money is a bitch that never sleeps.” Oh Oliver Stone, how could you? Somehow, Douglas delivers the cool and the icky greasy hair with flair. I even enjoyed little sapling Shia Lebeouf.

Pigs are flying across New York City as Countess LuAnn started shooting on Law & Order: SVU. Can the Countess act as well as she sings? I have to watch. Never fear, I am holding back on some of my TV urges. Did not watch the finale of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills though thought about it for the entire hour.

Now, I’ll read my People Magazine with Nicole Kidman on the cover New Yorker. My tombstone: “Here Lies Dish. She watched a LOT of TV, but not as much as all you whores think.”

Good thing I didn’t wake up at 3:30am to watch the Australian Open because my heart would have broken in half. Due to injury, my imaginary son Rafael Nadal lost to his long-time friend/rival Ferrer.

Speaking of fabulous Spaniards, Penelope Cruz and Javier Bardem have reproduced, bringing forth a boy into the circle of life. I can only congratulate them and think of the things JJ said (loudly in his salon) he wanted to do to Javier.

Of other interest, a homophobic Twitter-rant from Kings of Leon Nathan Followill against Ryan Murphy. There are some dumb people in the world–too bad they are in the public eye.

Forgive the solemn tone of this post. I’m in mourning for Rafa’s defeat. Will spring come?

Blessed is the woman who is Oprah’s long-lost kin! To juice up her finale, Oprah should have a secret baby, too. She’s a genius, but it’s hard for me to believe she’ll really stick with just running her own network. Unless she’s really conquering the world. More power to her. Jason Sudeikis and ScarJo might be dating. It’s sad when starlets date down. TG just explained what urinal cakes are. Forty-two years of ignorance. This morning’s Oscar nominations have challenged me. I’ve seen none of the movies. Can Dish make her choices based on no viewings? It’s possible, though I do want to see The Social Network, The Cat’s Pajamas, The Black Swan, and The King’s Speech. Too many Best Film nominations. Toy Story 3? WTF.

My heart twists with agony that I have been secretly watching The Bachelor. I vowed I’d never do it from Season 1 (finales are a different story). Brad Womack sounds like a younger version of Dr. Phil, the women appear needy (tears don’t work), but I want him to wind up with Emily. She is full of sweetness, a little sass and, best of all, she’s nice to all the girls. Some of desperation grabs me–like the chick who gave herself a black eye.

In other news, Judd Apatow has come out against Ricky Gervais’s Golden Globes (keep talking–he’ll get a standing ovation as he represents freedom of speech). If I were Judd, I would react to fresh, biting material, too, especially if all I did was crank out the same movie over and over again starring lovable pothead slackers who redeem themselves into more lovable and slightly-more productive slackers.

My favorite Monday facts are that Matthew Perry and Allison Janney will return to TV in Mr. Sunshine and Criminal Minds‘s spinoff starring Forest Whitaker also premieres in February. Get ready, TG! Marcel Proust, who?