Welcome to Midweek Madness, wherein we ruminate on how celebrities are just like us, in that we hate them commensurately to the degree we hate ourselves. In which we "read" the Wednesday tabs. So you don't "have" to.If you believe the tabs — or if you don't actually care enough to give any thought to whether you actually believe them because that would require some introspection into why you read them in the first place which in turn might require some thoughts of suicide — Jennifer Aniston's new boyfriend is sort of like Calum Best-meets-Kevin Federline ("Before he moved to L.A., he told everyone he was going to find 'a rich, lonely girl,' says a source close to [Jennifer Aniston's new boyfriend Paul] Sculfor". —US Weekly, page 63). Which begs the question: Is Jennifer as dumb as Britney-meets-Lohan? This curiosity, along with the question of Nicole Richie's knocked-upness, dominate the tabs this week. All of them, too, try again to shame poor Kelly Clarkson into anorexia by comparing a red carpet picture of her to that of some thin actress we don't know. After the jump, check out our rundown of the four major players.
Star catches on to the whole Ellen Barkin is an asshole thing we've been crowing about ever since the actress talked all that crap about how Scarlett Johansson was going to look shitty when she got older. Now, apparently, Ellen is dissing her Ocean's 13 co-star Matt Damon for being "no Pacino". Sorry to say, but Ellen Barkin is too fucking old for this shit. The magazine also carries an "exclusive preview" (page 12) of a photo shoot a pre-hab Lindsay Lohan did for Los Angeles Confidential Magazine, which we guess is a real thing even though the photos are, like, about as flattering as those puke shots. Speaking of puking, the magazine says that Ashlee Simpson is never sober enough for anyone to know whether she's fucking or puking in the bathroom of Pete Wentz's bar Angels & Kings (page 18). Speaking of the underworked and overcompensated, the magazine takes us on a trip down memory lane with a feature on how shitty it is to live in the presence of such people. To wit: Lindsay Lohan tried to flood Harry Morton's apartment after their breakup, Lenny Kravitz somehow caused a $350,000 toilet overflow at his NYC pad and Puff Daddy pissed off Rosie O'Donnell by playing with fireworks (page 62). The magazine also follows up on its groundbreaking reporting of an unprotected sex session between Kevin Federline and Shar Jackson (page 47). Uh, what is Shar Jackson known for again? Just being one of those talentless fertile people sent by Satan to Hollywood to procreate with the stars and make for more complicated legal battles? Oh wait, no, that's K-Fed. Ugh.
The magazine that intern Maria calls the "New York Times of celebrity weeklies" gets the writing award for this opening paragraph: "Like two prizefighters meeting for a championship match, Britney Spears and her estranged mother, Lynne, arrived separately to the June 10 birthday party of 4-year-old Gavin Nassif". Oh yes, a veritable Rumble in the Jungle, that fourth birthday party! Apparently Lynne Spears is not as bad a mom as one would assume given, well, Lindsay Lohan? There are also pictures of Britney's elusive baby son Jayden — which we think is a really classy name — and a picture of Britney's sister Jamie Lynn eating ice cream with a boyfriend wearing a baseball cap and an Abercrombie & Fitch T-shirt (page 50). Tell me why they're famous again? Oh yeah, like us. The magazine also runs a pic of British singer/trainwreck Amy Winehouse sans "war paint." She's cute in a drama class sort of way. And US photo-editors plunk an image of Jennifer Aniston's face onto the body of Angelina Jolie in A Mighty Heart. Again, not for nothing do they call it "the New York Times of celebrity weeklies"! (Page 65).
This week's issue asks whether Angelina Jolie is pregnant again, purely on the basis of the fact that last month, Angelina said she wanted to have another biological child. We would say the same thing we would say about Nicole Richie — you gotta ovulate to get pregnant! — except that Angie seems to be the "instant gratification" type, who when she wants to do something, doesn't fuck around. Oh and of course, the word of all those body language experts InTouch editors brought in to attest to Angelina's renewed affection for Brad Pitt? Always soooooooooo convincing. (Page 36).
Life & Style
Not much here! The magazine reveals that Paris Hilton suffers from "claustrophobia," for those of us who haven't heard of TMZ (page 31). We kind of resent having to look through this magazine. In fact, wait, we kind of resent our lives!