Dennis Quaid Files for Divorce From Meg Ryan. OK. So follow me on this. Meg Ryan's career has taken a sudden, if mild, noise-dive. You've Got Mail sucked and Hanging Up tanked. Her cute thing is getting stale. She's growing a bit scary-looking and aging herself out of her typical roles. Quaid, however, has been in the crapper for years ("I am the last one!!!"), but is enjoying a mild resurgence with The Parent Trap, Any Given Sunday, and Frequency. Yes, she is rumored to have gotten her mitts on the Aussie cock prize du jour, Russell Crowe, but my guess is Dennis sobered up, got his career a bit back on track, and started looking around at what his marriage had become, what his wife had become, and figured he better go get his swerve on while he still had the chance. Just an idea.

Actor Liam Neeson Hurt in Motorcycle Accident. Actor Liam Neeson broke his pelvis and suffered other injuries after crashing into a deer while driving a motorcycle near his home in upstate New York, police said Wednesday. (The deer later died, by the way.) Oh man. Fucking deer. I used to live up in Westchester county, and I almost hit about a thousand deer. I'm not about hunting, but something needs to be done. We've removed the predators from this country (read: wolves) and thus we're overrun by deer and such. And we're killing ourselves running into them and they're giving us Lyme disease and it's all a big mess. But motorcycles are fucking dangerous too. Hey, I want one so bad I can taste it. I had a scooter when I was in high school and loved it to death, but they are really fucking scary. Especially in Los Angeles. I don't know. That sucks about Liam Neeson. Aren't they supposed to be filming Star Wars any day now? And what ever happened to that romantic "comedy" he did with Sandra Bullock. It never came out! I saw hundreds of unfunny previews, and then it never came out. That's not a good sign, yo.

Claudia Schiffer Promotes Bangladesh Polio Effort. The Supermodel went to the city of Dhaka, and held sick children. She also met with poor women seeking to earn a living from sewing and making handloom products. Then, at the end of the day, she went back to her Four Seasons Hotel Suite, ate a meal of caviar and veal, drank a bottle of Dom Perignon, and made $560 worth of cell phone calls to the states from her bathtub.

Mira Sorvino is in final talks to star in "The Triumph of Love," an indie picture. Oh Lord. How quickly did the honeymoon last for her? About six months? Marisa Tomei had more time in the spotlight after winning her Oscar. Poor girl. I think she's talented, too, she's just, well, annoying as all fuck.

Cameron Won't Be Back for T3. Fuck James Cameron. Directors who abuse their actors can kiss my balls. There is no excuse, and no leniency. That is all.

Latest Harry Potter Book Flying Off U.S. Shelves. Really? Flying books? Cool! I want one.

Striking Actors Rally Against AT&T on Wall Street. Awesome. After my bullshit with the cell phone, I want AT&T to explode. I want them to die a horrible, fiery, generally unpleasant death. (Thanks for your advice, by the way. It helped a lot.)

Finally...

...New Road Rules recap should be up. Go read it, bitches.

---

The Larry King Happy Song Corner

 
 
I was flying into Chicago at night, watching the lake turn the sky into blue-green smoke. The sun was setting to the left of the plane. And the cabin was filled with an unearthly glow. In 27-D, I was behind the wing. Watching landscape roll out like credits on a movie screen. The earth looked like it was lit from within. Like a poorly assembled electrical ball. As we moved out of the farmlands and into the grid, the plan of a city was all that you see. And all of these people sitting totally still as the ground raced beneath them, thirty-thousand feet down. It took an hour, maybe a day. But once I really listened the noise just fell away. And I was pretending that I was in a Galaxie 500 video. The stewardess came back and checked on my drink. In the last strings of sunlight, a Brigitte Bardot. As I had on my headphones along with those eyes that you get when your circumstance is movie-size. It took an hour, maybe a day. But once I really listened the noise just fell away. It took an hour, maybe a day. But once I really listened the noise just fell away. But once I really listened the noise just fell away... speaking of which. I was flying into Los Angeles at night, watching that bastard Regis ignoring me, sitting two seats ahead of me. The stewardess brought him champagne after champagne, fluffed up his pillow, even wiped drool from his cheek as he slept. Me? I get this little bitch asking if I'd like the senior meal! The senior meal? Dammit Regis. And he knows me too. In the 70's we used to run around together with young Warren Beatty out at the Whiskey and 54 in New York. He was nothing back then. Nothing ! Now, he's too much of a big shot to talk to the world famous Larry King. Reeg, you miserable bastard.
 
 
  home   back   index   next   howl