If you’ve been following Ree’s career as long as I have you might be dazzled, as I have, at her meteoric rise to success from blogger to big time blogger to book author to TV show host and now, no doubt, to million dollar enterprise a la Paula Deen, Rachel Ray, and The Barefoot Contessa. Anyone who watches these shows knows that you don’t watch them for the food and cookin and recipes – you watch them for the lifestyle the host is pushing. The same formula that draws millions of viewers to Ree’s blog every day is the same thing that will likely draw them to her TV show on the Food Network. But watch out, you might find yourself yearning to be one of those Stepford Wives, you know, an eager to please robotica?
Category Archives: CELEBS
Charlie Sheen’s Little Shop of Horrors
I just … can’t even go there except to say that: drug addiction does terrible things to us. It isn’t just the “bad” drugs that have us addicted either: we are a species easily addicted to things. Not surprising that it is so easy. Surprising that it’s still surprising.
But the odd and compelling thing about the Charlie Sheen cabaret show was that it started out as a provocative uncorking of the primal male. At least, this is what appeared to be on Twitter where the Charlie Sheen explosion could be measured in real time. They flopped around like happy fish trending the catch phrases, #winning, #tigerblood! Both terms had been used by Sheen in an interview on 20/20 that exposed the uncensored celebrity for all to see.
But once Sheen got that tattoo WINNING! and started broadcasting himself 24/7, yammering on like a generic crack head in the last gasps of a morning bender — the sun coming up, melting the wolf mask to reveal a wild-eyed baby conjuring his Charlie Sheen words – Morlock! Troll! The other shoe dropped. There were a few men and boys unwilling to give up their dream of a guy who could nail two bimbos with washboard abs and an eternally hard cock on the one hand and father his many children on the other. But they suddenly had to. Some of them are still leaning, reaching, flopping — can they be Sheen? Can they unleash? A population of anonymous commenters, angry white men, all feeling the rules pulled apart with a seam ripper: Charlie.
And he shall call it Sober Valley Lodge. And he shall have goddesses to serve his needs, and sometimes serve each other’s needs, which also serves his needs. And it shall be a happy place with rocks of cocaine, a workout room, mirrors on the ceiling, pink champaign on ice.
Some saw it as a manic episode: get the man some brain drugs and call it day. Some saw it as drug addiction: get thee to rehab. Others saw it as an unleashing of raw angry power not unlike Peter Finch in Network.
There is some truth in there but there is also a mental fracture. What really gnaws at me when watching Sheen – both at the outset and then later, after the party was over because Sheen got fired and then acted like he was in on the joke –was that he WAS clearly freaking out but pretending like he had it all under control.
It was sad to watch Sheen break down like that, but it was even sadder, I think, to see how much we lapped it up. Partly we’re just plain old celebrity obsessed but are we also part savage still, banging the gong when the flesh is cut and blood pours out. We like to watch the sacrifice and the beast is starving for it.
Twitter has gone quiet now. There isn’t even a faint drumbeat. One of the goddesses left, but, it was reported and then re-reported and then retweeted and facebooked, the goddess had returned. The babies, Sheen’s twins, have been taken away and given to their mother. Sheen is no longer admired. The worm has turned. Its mouth is open wide.
My guess is that he will go into rehab. He’ll come out cleaner and more sober than ever. He’ll have gained a little weight, he’ll apologize to everyone, especially his own worried father. He will be “reformed.” Rock bottom in America is always a great place to start.
But every so often he will grin and pin us with his two wild eyes and he’ll call us out for being stupid trolls. We can’t argue there.
Open Letter to Lindsay Lohan
Oh Lindsay. Except for the beauty, fame and fortune I was you. I remember being so young and confused. I had bulimia and I’m guessing that’s what your Nexium prescription is all about. I was depressed and I’m guessing that’s what your Zoloft and god knows what all prescription is about. You are going to kill yourself if you continue this way. Why doctors are allowing celebrities to double and triple dip on their meds even after Heath Ledger is a mystery to me. But if you want the drugs you can get the drugs. You should not be on any drugs. Underneath all of that hair dye and freckles, you are a normal young woman.
Your mistake right now is in thinking you are the victim. How dare you compare your situation to human rights abuses around the world, though. This is something you might feel deep shame about later in life and you should feel deep shame about. You are a spoiled, entitled, badly managed celebrity. And you are the one the public wants to see take a fall. When the beast has the taste of blood it will be relentless until you either die or fail so miserably at your career you end up shaving your head and hitting an SUV with a baseball bat.
1. Quit all of the drugs. You do not need them. What you need is some peace and quiet. Can you get it? Maybe if you sober up, do lots of yoga and start reading actual books and talk to a therapist, one who won’t stuff you full of drugs. You are a drug addict. A textbook drug addict at that. You are someone who is only not using now because you have been forced to stop. Once they get off of your back you will go right back down that road again. This will kill you and it isn’t going to make the public love you the way they did Marilyn Monroe. You are not Marilyn – and thank god for that, right?
2. Go to College. That’s right. Enroll in a university and learn a thing or two so you won’t be such a dumbass. Being a pretty celebrity is not a good long term plan. It doesn’t last and you are past your sell-by date. You’re not even thirty but you look forty. Moreover, the public isn’t going to give you a break – no matter how good your performances are. Go to college. Get an awareness of the bigger picture. Partying with assholes is only going to get you so far.
3. Lose the luggage. The hangers-on are the worst of the worst. They are there only to tell you what you want to hear. Your mother loves you but she is too willing to see you as the victim and not make you accountable for your actions. Perhaps because she feels guilty for selling her daughters to fame. Or maybe she feels guilty for some other reason. But right now, she is not a healthy influence on you. Get clean and free of the people who make excuses for you.
4. Stop dyeing your hair blonde and puffing up your lips. You are too young and too pretty to start destroying yourself. No one looks at you and thinks, “wow, she’s so hot.” They look at you and they think, “god, how sad.” Get a grip or you’ll be headed for porn.
5. Stop the sleazy photo shoots and sleazy movies. This is not helping your career. You think this is the way to go because, maybe, you get more attention this way. You are getting the wrong attention. You are getting attention from people who have no loyalty. They will turn on you the second someone else walks by who is hotter. And there are hundreds of them, Lindsay. Hundreds. Think: what do you have to offer the world that is unique? You can act well. That’s pretty much it. Fill up your soul and your mind.
Or die.
It’s your choice. But trying to wriggle out of this jail sentence because “it’s NOT FAIR!” is just going to land you in much more trouble. Accept that you took advantage of the courts (who were already being too nice, in my opinion), suck it up and deal. You are not the center of the universe and no one cares if you whine or cry. As I said, the public is invested in seeing you fall.
Megan Fox is Too Thin
These have to be Photoshopped. Megan Fox at the premiere of Jonah Hex looking like she’s worried about something:
My Mel Gibson Encounter
There I was, a quick run down to Whole Foods to buy some stuff – you know, hadn’t showered and all of that. It was the small Whole Foods in Valley Village (or Sherman Oaks or whatever you want to call it). Tiny store. So small you can’t really walk past people without rubbing or bumping. It is awkward. I have seen many a celeb in there before but no one with the kind of star power of Mel Gibson. Nevertheless, there was that familiar voice. And I turn around and there is Mr. Gibson. He is chattering on his cell phone and acting fairly “normal,” if it’s possible to act normal and be a celebrity.