How Do I Hate Thee, RadarOnline? Let Me Count The Ways

RadarOnline is such a bucket of suck. Today, they ran this photo of "scary skinny" Selma Blair with a story chock full of assumptions -- among them, that she is malnourished, that she weighs 75-80 pounds (an estimate from some asshat doctor who, naturally, "has not treated the star"), and that "the stress [of her divorce] has made her a shadow of her former bubbly, healthy looking self." Oh, where to start. Okay: Yeah, she looks thin. So do 90% of the women in Hollywood, many of whom are deified for their boniness. So there's that. And let's just say, for the sake of the conversation, that in fact the jackasses at Radar are correct, and that Selma has lost weight in response to stress. Guess what isn't going to help her? POINTING OUT THAT YOU THINK SHE LOOKS LIKE SHIT. Or let's just say that it isn't the divorce, and Selma actually is malnourished because she has an eating disorder. Guess what isn't going to help her? POINTING OUT THAT SHE IS TOO THIN. In fact, we call that reinforcement, you idiots. I mean, gee, what could possibly make a woman in Hollywood -- or anywhere else -- think that she needs to keep her weight down? It's such a mystery. This might have something to with it:

Here is a photo of Kelly LeBrock that Radar ran back in November with the following introduction: "...while some [Hollywood stars] manage to maintain their looks through the years, others haven't been quite so fortunate. From too much plastic surgery to outrageous weight gain, RadarOnline.com has photos of the 20 most shocking celebrity transformations." Indeed, Kelly's weight gain is OUTRAGEOUS! How dare she! I, for one, am definitely outraged. Nothing OUTRAGES me more than watching a woman eat when she is hungry. That shit really yanks my chain. Fortunately, Selma's weight loss is only "shocking" and "scary," so at least Radar has spared her the rage reserved for those who aren't malnourished. So, remember ladies: they're watching. Don't get too skinny, lest we all suffer shock at the sight of your obvious emotional instability -- but don't gain weight either, because, well, that's just, say it with me...outrageous.

Wherein An Artery Explodes In My Brain, Volume Number ReallyAmerica?????

I am not going to write about Newtown, Connecticut. Incidentally, Connecticut is my home state; my first career was as a public school teacher (yes I taught them how to curse properly); and I am a parent. So while I am, like so many of us, wholly gutted by what has happened, I choose to forego expressions of my own vicarious grief -- the expression of which always toes the line between empathy and disrespect, in my (not) humble opinion -- in favor of a rejuvenated focus on my own family and what we contribute to the state of society.

THAT SAID:

On Sunday, I started holiday shopping (shut up; there is plenty of time). My nephew is 10 years old, so I googled "best toys for a ten year old boy." Again, this was Sunday. Two days after you-know-what. This is what came up at Squidoo.com, my usual go-to site for "best toy" ideas:

Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME? Get your shit together, America -- now.

Presented (Almost) Without Comment, Cult Leader Edition

Here we have Tom Cruise at the London premiere of a film called "Jack Reacher," which sounds like an item from the service list at a massage parlor. Regardless: holy Madame Tussauds, Batman.

[Celebuzz]

Jealous Misogynistic Troll Says What?

"Writer" Bret Easton Ellis is a big dick with a small one, as evinced by his nonstop assault of bitter blueballed bile on Twitter (if, like me, you're into that sort of thing, you can follow him here). Kathryn Bigelow doesn't need any defense (she can just cover her ears with her two Oscars), but just for fun, I'd like to point out that (1) the correct verb tense here would be "...if she were a man" and (2) Bret Easton Ellis's latest film is THE CANYONS with Lindsay Fucking Lohan. Furthermore, every book Ellis has ever written relies on masturbatory prose and/or gratuitous violence. But, really, Bret, keep talking. By the way, I can smell your crippling insecurity from here.

When Self-Indulgent Hipsters Attack

So, I just came across this over at Jezebel, and, with all due respect to Katie J.M. Baker (who posted it and who is, like all the Jezebel women, totally rad) this video makes me want to drink bleach. I am way too lazy to do it myself, but I'll send a bottle of wine to anyone with the time, energy, and technical prowess to change "We've gotta break up" to "We need to shut up." I'll send two bottles to anyone who can get these fools to actually do so.

By the way, Ivory, that's some inspirational sax playing. Christ.

Editors note: And, yes, I know the video doesn't fit the frame. I don't know why (read: I don't care). What do I look like, a blogger?

Hey, Rumer/Scout/Tallulah: This Is Your Mom On Drugs; Any Questions?

Here we have Demi Moore at last night's Chanel Beachside Barbecue with Lenny Kravitz and Stacy IUsedToBeAWrestlerAndNowImDatingGeorgeClooney Keibler. I love this photo so much. Poor Lenny. Red Bull farts are pretty intense - just ask Lindsay Lohan. After she blew away Mr. Kravitz, Demi revealed her secret to staying slim: a steady diet of human hair:

Later, she answered some questions for photographers. First, "How many lines have you done tonight?"

Then, "How big is Bruce Willis, really?"

Lenny, naturally, was not impressed.

[Daily Mail]

Things Kate Middleton And I Have In Common

We both barfed our brains out during pregnancy; we're both kickass field hockey players; and we're both commoners who slept our way to easy street. Oh wait. Only that first one is true. Rats. Anyway, as you already know, poor KiKi is preggers and puking in a London hospital. I, for one, am not terribly impressed, as I did my vomito embarazada (or hyperemesis gravidarum as those fancy pants doctors call it) in a Boston Public Schools classroom while 28 eighth graders watched. KMid: 0; Me: 1. To be fair, though, Kate wins the nauseated nickname competition, with the Daily News referring to her as "the queasy royal," a title originally reserved for Prince Harry on any given Saturday morning. Well-played, Duchess. Well played.