Dear Lady Gaga,
The shock value fad passed avant-garde 16 years ago when it took a left turn at Marilyn Manson. It’s 2009. Nothing’s shocking. Now it’s just ridiculous.
Stick with a Lower East Side rich hipster act. Your music sounds better that way.
Hugs & viruses,
Members of the “Transformers” crew are trashing tabloid flavor-of-the-summer Megan Fox.
An extensive “open letter to all Michael Bay fans” was posted on the director’s Web site in an exposé about what really happens in the pretty little rebel girl’s world.
“One of us touches Megan’s panties, the other has the often shitty job of pulling Ms. Sour pants out of her trailer, while another is near the Panaflex camera that helps to memorialize the valley girl on film.”
The crew’s backlash is in response to Fox comparing “Transformers” director Bay to Hitler in Wonderland magazine:
“He wants to be like Hitler on his sets, and he is. So he’s a nightmare to work for but when you get him away from set, and he’s not in director mode, I kind of really enjoy his personality because he’s so awkward, so hopelessly awkward.”
What a bad girl. She should join Dennis Rodman, Avril Lavigne and the T-Birds for a smoke in Rydell High boy’s room. Such rebels.
Spoiler alert: The novel inked on your back doesn’t make you Angelina Jolie. You date a white rapper and have Marilyn Monroe’s face on your arm.
You can take an ‘E’ for effort.
MTV VMA drama
Queen covers are in dire need of a 10-year nap.
Last night’s MTV Video Music Award opening performance of “We Will Rock You” had me vomiting Perrys — the Joe and Katy kind.
Can Freddie Mercury gather at least an inch of dust? For cliché sake, sheesh.
Dismissing the question of why a music video-less music television channel even hosts a Video Music Awards show (say that three times) — I’ll just let the reality tube lie.
The night consisted of the typical brats vying for attention — Kanye West and Lady Gaga — and an outlandish buildup to Jay-Z’s performance. Note to Mr. Z: Hide for at least a year and then we’ll gasp. Maybe.
Now, excuse me while I go have nightmares about Amber Rose’s animal print jumpsuit and dirty dreams about Russell Brand.
Put your head between your legs. Breathe.
Spencer Pratt said something intelligent.
After a lifetime of stick-your-head-in-the-oven remarks, he actually made the world a better place.
Soak it in.
His wife, Heidi Montag Pratt, told her sister-in-law, Stephanie Pratt, (there’s too many Pratts flying around here, I need a paper bag) that she has baby fever.
“What happens if she does? I told her there’s a divorce or adoption. If she’s not down with the adoption, I think it’s divorce.”
No Pratt spawn!
I feel like I just won the lottery. A lottery of unlimited American Eskimos, Adrien Brodys and whiskey.