Welcome to the family Pax Thien Jolie-Pitt!
This morning in a Los Angeles County Superior Court Brad Pitt legally added to his last name to his gal-pal Angelina Jolie's third adopted child. The three-year-old South Vietnamese boy was adoted by Jolie a few months ago.
We want to know if Brad gets to choose from which country the next baby is adopted from!
I’ll finally admit that I have a problem. No really. I can’t stop. I am addicted to cookouts.
After five backyard barbecues in three days, on average I have consumed three hot dogs, one and a half hamburgers, a few chicken wings — OK more like 10 — an Italian sausage with peppers and onions, four pork ribs, I don’t know how many slices of watermelon, two scoops of pasta salad, a forkful of potato salad and enough liquid carbs to send a diabetic into a coma.
I didn’t check my e-mail or voicemail. I didn’t complain about my job to anyone — even after my third margarita. I didn’t read the paper. I was refreshed.
I actually jumped up on Tuesday morning ready to get the work day rolling. I had so much to look forward to. I guarantee none of my co-workers had better stories from the weekend than I did, well that’s most of the time anyway. As I walked to the shower I could still smell the charcoal in my hair and it gave me a little rush. I decided to log on to to see what debauchery happened in Hollyweird while I was on my mini-vaca of the mind.
Lohan’s low down and dirty holiday weekend got me thinking about myself and my pals’ own “extracurricular activities.” It made me compile a check list for my esteemed readers.
Do you or anyone you know:
• Correct yourself that it happened this morning rather than last night, after you already slept for eight hours.
• Need a vacation after a three-day weekend.
• Buy beer that you know no one else will like so they won’t ask you for one.
• Say “I only drink on the weekends,” but your weekend consists of Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Leaving Monday to recover, Tuesday to clean up from the previous weekend’s bender at your place, and Wednesday to get ready for Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday.
• Know that going to Promises doesn’t mean someone is getting married.
• Refer to Wonderland, not as a fictional place where Alice lives.
• Need a cooler just for your beer and a separate one for the food when going to a pot luck dinner.
• Prick your finger on little umbrellas you forget are in your pocket or bag.
• Call Friday and Saturday amateur night.
• Have Amy Winehouse’s “Rehab” as your MySpace song.
• Have a T-shirt that reads, “Rehab is for quitters!”
If you have experienced any one of these symptoms, your first step to recovery is to stop reading this column. For me, I think I’ll lay off the cookouts for a while. At least until the Fourth (of June).
LiLo's publicist released this statement late yesterday afternoon:
"Lindsay admitted herself to an intensive medical rehabilitation facility on Memorial Day. Because this is a medical matter, it is our hope that the press will appreciate the seriousness of the situation and respect the privacy of Lindsay as well as the other patients receiving treatment at the facility."
Sure and when she needs a boost in album sales will respect the hearing of our readers.
But in all seriousness...goodluck Lindsay!
Celebrity web sites are confirming that Lindsay Lohan has entered Promises in Malibu.
Damn, does this mean her 21st birthday party in Las Vegas sponsored by Svedka Vodka is canceled?
Party girl Lindsay Lohan didn't let her DUI bust and car accident this past Friday night keep her away from the clubs for the rest of the weekend. No signs of weakness or quitting here.
Parparazzi snapped the faketress outside Teddy's at 4 a.m., where she dropped all her belongings and passed out in the passenger seat of her SUV. Her party pal Samantha Ronson tried to wake her up without any luck.
Now, In Touch magazine and the New York Post, is reporting the 20-year-old is headed back to try rehab again at Malibu's Promises. This will be her second stint in a couple months.
Hey, it worked for Britney...right?
Mischa Barton the former resident hard partying high schooler of The OC is living up to her character's drug-laced ways.
Barton was rushed to the hospital after collasping at a party at one of Nicole Richie's pals home. Her rep is saying it was a reaction to a mix of antibiotics and alcohol.
We think Lindsay Lohan and Mischa should hook up and head to rehab together. Wouldn't that make a great reality show!
An allegedly sober and underage Lindsay Lohan was arrested last night for Driving Under the Influence and possesion after police found cocaine in her vehicle.
Two hours after leaving Les Deux at 3:30 a.m., cops received a 911 call reporting a one car hit and run at Foothill and Sunset Blvds in Beverly Hills. Cops say Lindsay was driving her Mercedes and lost control and went up on on a curb.They also say the found a "usable amount" of a drug identified as cocaine.
Lohan was arrested at Century City Hospital where she had been taken by friends after the accident.
Pic from TMZ.com
With three weeks left in her contract, Rosie O'Donnell left The View today. After a fall out with staunch Republican, Elizabeth Hasselbeck, this week it was specualted that Ro was upset and ready to leave.
ABC Daytime issued the following statement:
"We had hoped that Rosie would be with us until the end of her contract three weeks from now, but Rosie has informed us that she would like an early leave. Therefore, we part ways, thank her for her tremendous contribution to 'The View' and wish her well."
Barbara Walters said:
"I brought Rosie to the show. Rosie contributed to one of our most exciting and successful years at "The View." I am most appreciative. Our close and affectionate relationship will not change."
Rosie said: "I'm extremely grateful. It's been an amazing year and I love all three women."
I am starting to rethink my theory that Star Jones was the crazy one...
My pal Marlena went in for the kill last night when she ran into infamous celeb blogger (and my idol) Perez Hilton at Mansion in Boston last night.
Don't they make a cute couple?
It is time to break out the white pants. Memorial Day weekend means many things to each one of us LAers. Time to dust off the grill, open the pool, start using those banked sick days — come on you deserve a war badge for going to the office with pneumonia just to save them for a beach day. And most importantly — Monday off from the slave ship we all call work.
The three-day weekend tends to bring out the best of Greater Lowellian style. Now that we have shed our North Face parkas, the whole world can see what we have been hiding underneath. I wonder if Mother Nature knew that those who reside in the chilly Northeast would give Glamour an entire decade worth of “don’ts” in just the three months we call summer. This may be why she punished us with Nor’easters, blizzards and unseasonably cold days — just so we would remain bundled up.
With all that being said I am here to help you decipher what works and what will send even the sharks swimming in another direction.
• If you are not a size 7, do not wear size 7 pants. That means nothing less than 7 is acceptable either. Unless you’re getting dressed in a fun house mirror, be honest with yourself. You’ll save yourself from looking like a sausage over stuffed in casing.
• Just say no to flip-flops at work. Not because I think it is a fashion flub to wear what my father calls shower shoes to the office, it’s that they make that hideous clacking sound when you walk causing major distraction.
• Wife beaters are never in style. The worst offenders are the ones that wear them tucked into belted shorts, like they are part of an outfit. Wife beaters are not acceptable at the beach, on the street, at the mall or even drinking Schlitz on your stoop.
• Tube socks with slides. Socks and sandals, are one of the most baffling fashion faux pas people make. They make sandals for a reason — so you can wear no socks. It is criminal to wear thongs with white tube socks.
• Men who wear underwear at the beach with swim trunks. You have that net thing going on down there, why then the extra barrier? Afraid a jelly fish will swim up your shorts? Not even an creature without a brain wants to — give it up.
• Chipped toe nail polish. If toes weren’t already the least attractive feature on your entire body now you go to wearing sandals with unpedicured feet!?! The most traumatic experience is when you’re in a bathroom and catch a glimpse of the feet next to you. You don’t even exit the stall to see which one of your co-workers is exposing their bunion and claw-like pinkie toe nail. How will you ever look at them the same way again?
• Visors — they are just obnoxious. Please discontinue their use immediately.
• Capri pants on short people. They are supposed to stop right below the knee or mid-calf, if I have to explain this one you obviously have a closet full.
Did I miss any sloppy summer styles? E-mail lowellita@lowellsun.com.
Kurt Cobain is an angel in this new Doc Marten ad. For once, I don't have anything to say. Do you?
Nicole Richie "might" have entered rehab for the second time in less than a year for an "eating disorder".
The National Enquirer and Star magazine are reporting that Richie re-entered rehab as an outpatient at Beau Monde on May 11 to fight anorexia and a painkiller addiction.
Richie’s rep is saying that the reports are false and that she is eating and also sober. She did go back to seeing her therapist though.
We’re hoping it’s true and she doesn’t end up in the tank like her frenenmy Paris Hitlon. Stay strong Nicole!
American Idol judge and sometimes slurring former pop star, Paula Abdul, broke her nose, bruised her arm and injured her toe after — get this — tripping over her chihuahua!
I don’t know which story is worse, Paula’s; Lindsay Lohan’s supposed slip on a wet stair or President Bush’s choking on a pretzel?!?!
Apparently Scott Stapp doesn’t practice what he preaches. The former lead singer of main stream Christian rock band, Creed was arrested for domestic assault and battery in Boca Raton, Fla.
Stapp spent the night in the can at the Palm Beach County Jail and was scheduled to appear in court this morning. No victim was identified but Stapp is married to former Miss New York Jaclyn Nesheiwat.
UPDATE: Apparently Stapp threw a bottle of Orangina at his wife's head after she questioed his arrival home at 8 a.m. and if he was using drugs.
Yet another celebrity break-up. Two in one week! This could be a record!
Some celeb-bloggers are reporting that singer John Mayer has dumped Jessica Simpson.
And we thought it was going to last.
Finally Mayer came to his senses and realized Simpson couldn't carry a conversation unless it is about shopping or hair extensions. Think she is upset since her ex-hubby, Nick Lachey, is now shacking up with MTV VJ, Vanessa Manillo?
Poor Jess....she's sleeping in those $2400 sheets alone now.
So here we are, almost the end of May in Lowell, 35 days until the first day of summer and I have not even thought about a bathing suit yet.
OK — you got me. I lied.
I have been thinking about that malicious material they call Lycra every second of my day. Even the sight of string cheese sends me into a critical self-appraisal, trying to determine in the bathroom mirror how on earth a piece of thread will look good when I can still see the extra helping of mashed potatoes from Thanksgiving on my hips. Turn around and there are the two slices of cheesecake I had to have on Christmas Eve.
Now my entire waking hours are spent stressing over my first poolside party of the season. As I take that second spin through the Southeast Asian Restaurant lunch buffet — all right, you got me, it’s the third — I start to make my stomach queasy thinking about those boy shorts. Maybe that’s the curry, but still.
Then there are the times when I promise myself to eat a piece of grilled chicken at a cookout, but somehow seem to have a hot dog or sausage before I leave — stomach ache. And every time Pete Bouchard says the five-day forecast is for beautiful, sunny, 80-degree days, I have a full-on ulcer.
As I am writhing in pain looking for the Pepto-Bismol in the medicine cabinet, my gal-pal calls to excitedly tell me that it looks like Wednesday will be a beach day and she’s calling in. Great — now where is that extra-strength Imodium?
Not only is she excited about putting on her string bikini, she is using a sick day. I tell her I am way too busy at work and remind her of that norovirus that took hold of the office last year — doesn’t she want to save her days for the second outbreak?
Apparently not, because she went, saddled herself up to the outdoor bar on the strip of Hampton Beach and spent the day sipping margaritas oceanside looking for Mr. Right Now. So why is it that all of my other single friends are slim?
I’ll tell you why. With the amount of time they spend sweating over when their newest love interest is going to call them, they lose all of their water weight. Then from running around downtown Lowell between bars so they can just “happen” to bump into them, they burn off the added calories from that pitcher of sangria. There is also the loss of appetite they suffer after bumping into the hottie’s live-in girlfriend.
Seems simple that all you have to do to lose weight these days is lose your mate.
Britney Spears did it. Once K-Fed became the Fed-Ex, Britney had a meltdown— of fat that is. She went from looking like a bloated Barbie doll from the trailer park to a hot single mother all the dads drool over at the playground. The Britster put down the Cheetos and picked up a cheetah-print bikini.
It is not only the stress of trying to find that man, it’s also dodging some of your less-than-stellar suitors that slims you down. You know that the walk from your desk to the bathroom would be a hop, skip and a jump — well, actually just a hop — if you didn’t have to take a total detour to avoid a certain recent divorcé who has taken a liking to everything about you. Sometimes you resist that urge for a mid-afternoon trip to the vending machine just to remain in the protection of your cubicle. This saves you empty calories and empty promises as well.
Sorry, guys, but it is a tough decision — bikinis or boys. You can’t have your cake and eat it too, unless of course you’re taken.
What would you choose, the bikini or the boy? E-mail lowellita@lowellsun.com.
Ike Turner was arrested yesterday and spent the night in jail for outstanding drug charges.
I didn't even know he was still alive!
Tina's ex was pulled over for speeding in Los Angeles and police found an outstanding warrant on felony drug charges. The 75-year-old was held without bail.
Maybe he'll bump into Paris?
Apparently the paparazzi were too busy following Britney Spears through the Taco Bell drive-thru to realize that Denise Richards and Richie Sambora broke up...in March
Richard’s rep told In Touch Weekly, “Denise and Richie broke up two months ago.” I guess we care more about what Britney is stuffing in her.
Denise told In Touch on May 10, “I take my life one day at a time. I'm in a really happy place.”
That place is alone in bed.
What’s in a name? Apparently a lot. David Faustino one of the children of the long-running sitcom Married With Children was arrested in New Smyrna Beach, Fla. this past weekend for possession of marijuana and disorderly intoxication.
Bud Bundy had about a gram of bud and admitted to police that he and his estranged wife had been drinking. The actor was detained after an officer saw him arguing in the middle of the street with his wife.
Al would have been so proud of his son.
Either Candy Spelling has too much time on her hands since her husband's death or she really is as eccentric as her daughter, Tori, says. Mrs. Spelling wrote an open letter to Paris Hilton begging her to take responsibility for her actions...read on:
Dear Paris,
As someone who has known you for most of your life, I pay special attention to your press coverage. (Apparently, I'm not alone, based on the responses every word about you creates on TMZ.com and elsewhere.)
Paris, I'm very worried about you. The last week has not only been an obvious roller-coaster for you emotionally, but your strategy went from blaming employees and stating silly excuses like, "I don't read," to your new lawyer's tactic to have you sound mature and take some responsibility. In between, the paparazzi continue to follow you shopping and taking self-defense classes (to protect yourself in jail?), and some over-zealous friends staged embarrassing protests (three people?), and wasted taxpayer funds with a petition to pardon you.
People who are rich and famous are not treated like "regular" people, even though you claim to now be just like everyone else. In most situations, your privileged life works to your benefit. You have opportunities, access and resources like few others; and frankly, you can get away with more bad behavior and excuses than most people could even imagine. However, as the real possibility of jail approaches -- whether it's 21 days or 45 or whatever the latest report is -- it's time to get real. It's time to find "a Paris" somewhere between "heiress" and a character on "The Simple Life." I know she's there, and I know she can be a good citizen and maturely face consequences other people would have to face under the same circumstances.
I am sorry you have been sentenced to jail. I can't think of too much that would be worse. But since you let this happen, use the next couple of weeks preparing not only by publicly learning to fight (not a good message to fellow inmates), but by looking around, realizing that you are not as truly entitled as your money implies. You are a young woman who can add more to her community than establishing new definitions for infamy.
Best,
Candy Spelling
Patty Hearst also wrote a letter to the celeb online news source TMZ. Who knew the heir-head's impending jail time would inspire D-listers to unite on a letter writing campaign.
Dear TMZ,
Imagine my surprise upon learning of the "advice" I had been giving Paris Hilton. In spite of reports to the contrary, I can assure you that I have not had any contact with Paris (or any member of her family) regarding her upcoming jail time, or any other matter. Like Governor Schwarzenegger, I have had many more important things to think about.
However, since I'm thinking about it now, I must say that my heart goes out to the inmates of the Century Regional Detention Center. Forty-five days with Paris Hilton and the attendant publicity seems like cruel and unusual punishment to me. Perhaps THEY should be petitioning the Governor for relief?
OK, that wasn't nice. But seriously, if Paris really wants my advice it's this: Read Candy Spelling's letter several times and take her advice to heart.
--Patricia Hearst
To get everyone in the mood for summer, The Frosting has picked one of the best looking couples of today, Nick Lachey and Vanessa Minnillo, in their bathing suits to make both the ladies and the gentlemen who read this blog happy. The binge drinkers can also benefit from the looks of those fruity cocktails the couple is sipping.
The pair were getting some sun at the opening of the Cove Atlantis Hotel in the Bahamas
"My Name is Earl" star Jamie Pressly and her fiancée, Eric Cubiche, welcomed their son Dezi James this morning.
The baby boy was named after "I Love Lucy" main-man Dezi Arnaz, who shares the same Cuban descent as his father.
Welcome to the neighborhood DJ!
At the Palm’s Casino in Sin City when you buy a trip through their new Bistro Buffet you receive an entry to win a free trip to Paris — France that is.
Who else will jump on the bandwagon?
For the past seven days, the LA has been undergoing a dry spell. This city has sobered up and is going through a wit withdrawal. I hear from my city cronies that the sweats and body aches are of Pete Doherty proportion. And for those who don’t know who dopehead Doherty is — Google him and stop sending me e-mails about him.
There has been no need to roll back that last call one hour at the “Worthless,” “Dub,” “OC” or the “Slam …” (we’ll just leave that one alone). These fine downtown Lowell watering holes could rest easy this past week with Lowellita out of town.
That’s right, this Mill City chick jet-setted her faux tanned tail-end to an exotic location south of the border. Not the actual “border,” but the one that clearly divides this nation into two separate subcultures. I am entering “red” realm, a dangerous domain where Bush is not a punchline to a raunchy joke.
So watch out, Southerners, because here comes a Dunkin’s-drinking, Dice-K devotee, who tells you it’s wicked awesome that you don’t have to dial an area code to call your next door neighbor. If anyone asks where I am from, I will respond, “Red Sox Nation, baby!” — and when driving my rental, I’ll blare “Sweet Caroline” (the only acceptable Neil Diamond tune) as I bang a left into the packie for some Sammy’s.
I am going to stop now before this column starts sounding like a “You know you’re from Boston when …” spam e-mail or MySpace bulletin. But you should know where I am going with this. Whenever traveling outside of our own backyard, we get hassled about our New England-isms.
No, I won’t say, “Pahk the cah in Hahvahd yahd” — not happening, don’t even ask. I also will not try to defend why our lives revolve around when the Sox are playing or explain why no one plans a wedding, camping trip, beach day or anything else when the Yankees are in town. Get over it. And it’s not funny to start using “wicked” just ’cause I am around.
I am sure that all this will take place right after my plane touches down in Albuquerque — say that five times fast after a few woo-woos from Hookslide Kelly’s. These incidents make me long for Lowell where little things, like how the Cox Bridge rocks me like a child while I have been sitting on it for 45 minutes during rush hour, are comforting.
When I return from New Mexico and see Cross Point Towers protruding from the Victorian homes scattered in the Highlands landscape, I can breathe a sigh of relief. I’ll also check my watch and make sure there is enough time to get a draft under the belted fans.
Home sweet home … e-mail lowellita@lowellsun.com.
Some local insiders are saying that the Micky Ward biopic will NOT be filmed in Lowell, where the boxer trained and grew up in. Instead it will be shot in Providence, RI...that means no chance run-ins with Mark Wahlberg or Matt Damon at Cobblestones (bummer).
As with other movies that are based in Massachusetts and filmed else where, the production would be too costly to be filmed here in the Bay State. How they will be able to recreate the character of the Mill City anywhere else is beyond me.
After being stuck in the desert for this past week, I now understand why most rehabs are located in Arizona, New Mexico or any other state that has nothing but dirt. While I was away the residents of Hollyweird were living up to their reputation…
Let’s see…
Paris Hilton was sentenced to 45 days in jail for violating her probation. Hope orange is here color. She better prepare now by removing those extensions and silk manicure. And if anyone sees a "Free Paris" T-shirt anywhere, drop me a line.
Troubled actor Tom Sizemore was bagged for meth possession. Maybe he and Hiltie can be cellmates.
Lindsay Lohan is popping up in hazy photographs with some gal pals doing lines of cocaine in the bathroom. Seems that rehab didn’t rub off on the 20-year-old.
Baywatch alum David Hasselhoff lost visitation rights after a video surfaced showing him having a Mel Gibson moment.
Yes that's right, I am going on a much needed vacation until next Thursday! But what bad timing! Britney is making her comeback with appearences at House of Blues locations. Lindsay Lohan's mother wants to replace Rosie on "The View". Ashlee Simpson was carried out of a nightclub by her "boyfriend" Pete Wentz of Fall Out Boy. Linda picked out her prom dress for the Perfect Prom Sweepstakes.
I have worse timing than Howard K. Stern's little boys!
If I can score some free wireless Internet anywhere I will be sure to update. If not see you when I return next week.
Grunge Goddess Courtney Love is set to sell off the remainder of her late husband, Kurt Cobain's personal belongings 13 years after the Nirvana front man's suicide. Miss World said that their 14-year-old daughter Frances Bean will keep a guitar, sweater and the original lyrics to "Smells Like Teen Spirit".
Love also admitted that she still wears Kurdt's pyjamas to bed. "How am I ever going to go form another relationship in my lifetime wearing Kurt's pyjamas," she said.