What the %^&*?

OMG. Ever have one of those weeks where you are enraged by most of what you see and here. I’m having one of those weeks, children. I’m trying to get over it but I’m still salty. Here’s why:

Mean Daddy

I started off this morning by listening to the raging Alec Baldwin tape. You know the one where he cussing out is adolescent daughter in quite colorful language. I thought it was a joke. Listen here. Isn’t he divorced yet? His dramatic divorce and custody proceedings have been going on for years. It’s unfortunate that he and Kim Basinger couldn’t get their shit together for the sake of their daughter. Instead we are subjected to the public release of an obviously outraged man blasting his daughter.

I just feel bad that his bad behavior was made public for the obvious personal gain of Basinger. If he’s an ass, take it to the judge not the tabloids. Let the tape speak for itself in that arena. Making it public is an obvious attempt to discredit him and ruin his public image, which is funny because we don’t see him as the warm cozy man who reads to the blind. He seems like a volatile emotionally moody whiskey-soaked man with hints of extreme arrogance. His behavior is appalling and inappropriate but her motives are suspect.

Rehab IS the New Spa Getaway

Party girl Lindsey Lohan has once again proven that they are not fit role models for anyone. Lohan blabs to Allure magazine that while she enjoyed her stint in rehab, attended AA meetings for a year and was recommended by her therapist to seek help, she doesn’t consider herself and addict. Read here. She may not be an addict but she’s an utter idiot. Her detached attitude regarding rehab takes away from the release mission of intervention. What did she learn from this experience?

Izzie and George. Seriously?

You know how I feel about Grey’s Anatomy as a pioneering female-identified program but the latest developments have taken it into daytime soap territory. It’s hard for me to believe that Izzie thinks of George in any sexual way. There a big difference between a true platonic relationship and wanting to rub naked against that person despite how much alcohol flies down your throat. There isn’t that much drunk in the world. This plot line seems to be written as a road block instead of honest motivation from a character.

McDreamy can kiss my McAss. There is no way he should even contemplate ending it with Meredith to fulfill his ill-conceived notion of being Chief. I can take a little resentment but a break up is unforgivable. How many times are we supposed to go through this before we give up or stop caring? Also, you’re going to tell me that Cristina’s former lover is going to pop into her life after three years and assert that she’s lost herself. First, she wouldn’t care what he thinks and secondly, people change. It’s called growth. I can understand if it makes her re-evaluate herself. Didn’t she learn anything from Meredith’s mother?

Do you feel my disgruntled nature today? What do you think?

Tuesday Musings

With so much swirling around in the news, I thought it would be the perfect day for random thoughts. From the headlines, through my brain and on this page. Here are my Tuesday Musings:

Just Say No

I know people do drugs but how did Anna Nicole Smith manage to hold her head up with the boatload of drugs coursing through here veins. Nine drugs. Read about it here. Sweet Jesus!! No wonder she looked like Weekend at Bernie’s with Howard K. Stern playing the Andrew McCarthy role. I’m appalled that she was surrounded by people that allowed this to happen. No one looked out for her. And Howard can play the innocent role but he facilitated the entire event. Instead of insisting that she seek genuine medical intervention, he took her to the Seminole Hard Rock in Florida.

This is the man who said he loved her and fathered her baby. Why didn’t he try harder? You can’t tell me that Howard wasn’t the one injecting her in the butt. If he wasn’t, he still knew it was going on. Shame on him. It’s understandable that she was in tremendous emotional distress but nine drugs in your system. Now this was a women who could have benefited from the new rehab trend. Now Howard has custody of a baby. Diabolical. He was also present when Anna’s son Daniel died in the same tragic manner. Pathetic. Sad. Unfortunate. Tragic.

The media whore that he is, I’d like to see him explain his way out of this on Oprah.

Leg Watch: Week Two

Dammit! It won’t pop off. I’m starting to feel duped. Heather Mills was actually good last night on Dancing With the Stars. She still looked like an evil troll and the outfit was a ball if spandex confusion. I’m not a big fan of Paul McCartney but I have to admit there is something preventing me from connecting with his soon to be ex. Despite her off stage drama, I can’t say it enough but it takes a whole lot of balls to appear on the show during this turbulent episode in her life and tote around her designer prosthetic. Her mambo was leagues above the tight-assed versions by perky Leeza Gibbons and still gorgeous Paula Porizkova but not as smoldering as Laila Ali.

Go Sit Down Somewhere

Brit Brit made it out of rehab in one piece but couldn’t resist the temptation to hit the stores for some retail therapy and dinner. Not for nothing but what’s the point of having these huge fancy sprawling fortress homes if you can’t enjoy them. I don’t understand why she can’t chill out for a week or two and have the party come to her. She has enough money that she can have any food or service delivered to her house. She can also shop online or have a stylist bring pieces to her house. She needs to stay underground for a decent amount of time. Go sit down somewhere.

What are you thinking about today?

What the ...?

Ahh, holiday weekends. Hope President’s Day was as good to you as it was to me. Remember all that relaxing and cleaning I was going to do over the weekend. It actually happened. I feel ready to start fresh today. I must say the weekend was as much relaxing as it was bizarre. You know when you see a series of peculiar things one after the other only to be confronted with the ultimate in weirdness.

It started off with a cold spell on Friday. Part of my self-spa package was a few lengthy walks. It seems everyone has decided to take a page from Paris Hilton and puts clothes on their dogs when it gets cold. I’m not talkin’ designer duds either, I’m talkin’ a kid’s T-shirt cut for little pooches. Poor things, they just seemed confused. You could tell from their odd gate that they felt awkward. Now mind you it was in the 60s not the 40s or 30s. Many dogs originate from cold climates.

Next up was this eerie occurrence of hearing at least three Olivia Newton John songs this weekend while I was in the car. I could go years without hearing a song of hers on the radio but three in a weekend is strange. Made me want to watch Grease or Xanadu. Okay, not Xanadu but definitely Grease or the Let’s Get Physical video. I treated myself to a semi-marathon of The Real Housewives of Orange County. These bitches are more vapid and confused than their television counterparts. At least on Desperate Housewives it’s understood that they are fictional characters. Oddly, they have no idea how they come across. They take pride in their indulgent affluent plastic existence. Joe and Slate are amusing.

Then I was accosted by the news that Lindsey Lohan left rehab after completing a 30-day program. How the hell to you complete rehab while working everyday and going out at night? She may be the first celeb to treat rehab like a hotel. Unbelievable. Bridget Moynahan is three months pregnant with Tom Brady’s baby after breaking up three months ago. What kind of Young and the Restless plotline is this? Oh, and Ralph Fiennes joined the Mile High Club with a flight attendant on a recent flight. Alright, I kinda like this one it’s peculiar but titillating.

But boys and girls, the magical piece to my peculiar weekend was watching Britney Spears shave her head then showing up a day later wearing a cheap costume wig. Not even a racy Frederick’s of Hollywood one. Poor girl, she’s having a meltdown. I honestly feel bad for her. The Britney ride isn’t as much fun as it used to be. Now there are children and a loser father in her menagerie. I just want to know where is her family. As soon as I appeared with Matt Lauer chomping on gum, my mom would have flown in to see what was going on. Forget that, the minute I met K-Fed; momma would have flown in from Ohio to check on me.

Where are her family, agents and other hangers-on? She seems so alone and vulnerable. The even sadder side is that the paparazzi hunt her so closely that her nervous breakdown is being broadcast live. I really don’t have words for her. Sad. Tragic. Unfortunate.

What are your words for Brit Brit’s meltdown?