Archive for the 'Celebricheese' Category


1 degree of separation

So, the other day, one of the folks I occasionally chat with on Twitter — @JilltheDuchess — threw up a tweet about having sushi and seeing Salma Hayek at a nearby table. She also mentioned that Salma was prettier in public, smaller than expected (I think Salma is like 5′ or something), and even snapped a quick picture and posted on Twitter, saying, “I’m not normally this person, but…”

Now, Salma is one of my favorite actresses … no, wait, let me correct that … Salma is freakin hot, and in my silly fantasy world, I’d marry that woman. So, naturally, I had to say something to Jill, since Salma was nearby. I told Jill to give Salma a hug for me, not thinking anything else would follow.

Instead, I got this:

(and yes, I’m horrified that I spelled Salma’s name wrong, but I was typing fast)

Now, whether Jill actually did this or not, I don’t know. But it was pretty cool to think that instead of having 6 degrees of separation from Kevin Bacon, that I had 1 degree of separation from Salma Hayek.

(Of course, she’s probably thinking the same thing.  “Whew! Dodged that bullet! Stupid fanboys.”)


A note to the media

Please stop using the term “as the world mourns” when discussing the deaths of Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett.

While their loved ones and fans will miss them, I won’t. And I know there’s a lot of other people out there who don’t give a flying fig, either. I’ve never met either celebrity. Never knew them. I know that sounds horribly selfish and callous, but when I see people in hysterics over a celebrity’s death (and that’s any celebrity), I’m left scratching my head. Those people are the exceptions, not the norm.

They had high-profile jobs — they were entertainers —  and that’s about it.

Yes, I was alive during the “Thriller” era for MJ.

Yes, I was alive when Farrah Fawcett was THE sex symbol.

Both may have had a tiny influence on my life, but not enough to make me mourn their passing. And for once, I think I’m the norm and not the exception.

So please media, stop acting like the world has stopped because of their deaths. Let their families and friends mourn, and let it be respectful and peaceful. But stop acting like I am (or should be) one of them, when I most certainly am not.


Story confirmed!

Some of you may remember my friend’s’ story about Michael Phelps getting drunk and rowdy at a Steelers-Ravens game, and being hauled away by Jerome Bettis before security kicked his butt out.

Well, the other night I was at a different friend’s house watching the Pen’s playoff game, when he mentioned a story about one of his friends being in a luxury box during the Steelers-Ravens game.  The story went something like this:

The friend was up in the luxury box with his group. Apparently, around half-time, Bettis came into the suite and asked them if they would mind if his friend stayed there. No one had a problem with it, so in walks a Michael Phelps, who was apparently really drunk. He allegedly just quietly sat in the corner and passed out.

Since we all knew the original story, we just busted out laughing. We all had been speculating that he was with Bettis somewhere, or quietly throw out. But now the answer was clear: He didn’t return for the second half because he was passed out in suite. Never even got to see his team lose. Oh well, it was probably for the best.

Well, at any rate, I do love me some confirmation — and a fun little reminder of how “small world” Pittsburgh can be.

Oh, and uh, GO PENS!


8 gold medals vs. Heinz Field

So I heard a curious little story from a friend of mine who was at the Steelers-Ravens game on Sunday. First, he posted this status on his Facebook:

[Friend] watched Michael Phelps almost get thrown out of Heinz Field..Jerome Bettis was the only reason he was allowed to stay…Don’t mess with the Steeler Nation.

That’s a pretty unusual status, and one that chipped away at my curiousity. Was he drunk? Rowdy? Spitting on children? What could he possibly have done to almost get the boot from Heinz Field?

So, he filled us in:

Phelps was 5 rows in front of us. During the Ravens first drive he and his two buddies stood to cheer. He was chastized by a few Steeler fans. (none of us knew who he was at the time) He said Hey, you cheer for your team, I’ll cheer for mine. Fans told him to sit down. So, to piss off those fans, he remained standing through several plays, blocking everyones view. So the guy sitting next to [other friend] texted security. They showed up 5 minutes later and had a long discussion with him. The one head of security telling him he needed to shut his mouth. Security remained eying him to make sure. He sat pouting for the remainder of the half. About 5 minutes left in the half Jerome shows up to talk to him. (I assume the tickets came from him) Michael sat pouting to Jerome unapologetic. The half ended and we headed in to the Club Lounge. At that point we found out it was Phelps (but I had suspected it was him the whole time). Phelps didn’t return for the 2nd half.

As we laughed and chuckled over his tale, he said:

8 gold medals ranks you one step beneath the peanut vender in Heinz Field.

I just lost it laughing. I mean, yeah, in reality, he probably just went up the luxury box seats with Jerome, hung out, cheered on his boys and ate and drank for free. But the whole story reminded me of yet another reason why I love Pittsburgh.

See, unless you are a Steelers player from the 70s, celebrity status means relatively little here. Ask Sienna Miller or maybe even Carrie Underwood (I’ll have to share that story from a different friend one of these days). I think it’s because a lot of our local celebs were also our friends and neighbors — like Stevie from Chiller Theater, who not only was well known from his TV days, but apparently ran a great auto-repair business in the South Hills. Hammer has a great blog about meeting Mr. McFeely from Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood. For me, I knew Bob Trow — the actor who played Bob Dog and Robert Troll on the same show. And he was a fantastic guy and a tremendous artist. But pretension, pretension doesn’t really fly in our neck of the woods. Expecting the average yinzer to kiss your ass “because you are someone” will likely result in someone planting a foot in it.

But Phelp’s story is a bit different than the other celebrities I mentioned. He was here to root for his team, in enemy territory. I’ve been in his situation — I saw a Steelers-Dolphin game back in the ’90s — walking in, you KNOW you’re going to get abuse — so cheer on your boys but don’t make an ass out of yourself, and you’ll be fine. Heck, after we won the game I was at, several Dolphin fans turned to me and said, “Hey, thanks for not being a jerk.”

So, I mailed the friend that reported this story to me, and asked if I could use it for my blog. His reply cracked me up:

Actually, I was on Phelps’ side til he decided to go the immature “I’m gonna stand in your way just to prove my idiotic point” route. But the pouting after security came was the best part of it all. He sat there the rest of the half, didn’t applaud his team, didn’t stand again, just sat there like a kid whose parents just grounded him for staying out late.
Fuckin’ Baby!
Good swimmer, bad sport!

Ain’t that the truth, my friend. Ain’t that the truth.


Now, Lucy Liu asks

Lucy Liu asks:

“Ten-and-a half million children under 5 will die this year — how do you save a child’s life?”

Three replies:
“By not strapping bread onto said child and shoving it into a pig pen.”


Alyssa Milano asks

(From a “featured story” on Yahoo)

Alyssa Milano asks:
“What can we do to make the world’s children a priority in ’07?”

Three responds:
“Well, showing us your cans again would be a great place to start.”


A message to Sienna Miller…

In the paper tomorrow, there’s a story about Sienna Miller talking to “Rolling Stone,” where she basically says she doesn’t like Pittsburgh. She even goes so far as to call it “Shitsburgh.”

Now, when I saw this, my first reaction was, “Who?”

Apparently, she’s a London-born actress starring in the flick “The Mysteries of Pittsburgh.” But her big claim to fame is being the woman who Jude Law cheated on when he slept with their nanny.

Wooo! Way to take that victim role and run with it!

So, I read a little further into it. Apparently she says something along the lines of “I hope you will pity me when you go back to your funky apartment in New York,” and also “I need to get more glamorous movie locations.”

Now, I’m the first to admit, the ‘burgh ain’t no trendy city. If hip, trendy and uber chic are your thing, we’re not on the A list. Most of us are from homes where our dads worked in the mills and moms were homemakers or secretaries. We’re working class folks. We love our sports. We love our beer. Faboolas and chic weren’t on the menu of things we were into–we were too busy actually working.

But Sienna, if you could be bothered to take some of your oh-so precious time to find out, the one common thing that I’ve heard about my city is that it is pretty friendly. Ok, yeah, if you’re rooting for the opposite team during a game, you’re likely to get your ass kicked. Any other time, pull up a chair at the bar, and you can strike up a conversation with the person next to you. And what’ll surprise you is that guy can be a coal miner, a millworker, a scientist, a computer geek, a nurse, a doctor, a professor or engineer. We’re all pretty much the same around here.

But if there’s one thing that is completely hated (other than the Browns), it’s pretentious behavior.

See Sienna, while most of the city will be curious about you because you are allegedly famous, we certainly won’t take your shit. We’re not LA, NYC or other cities where you are “someone” and people will kiss your ass. Unless you’re part of a team that won a championship, in this town, you ain’t shit. Ok, in your case, you’re that hot limey chick who thinks she’s too good for everyone, but that’s about it.

And if you don’t believe me, please, ask fellow B-rate celebrity Carrie Underwood about her limo experience. God I love that story. (To clue you in, she kept harping on the driver, to which she was told to “Shut her pie hole,” among other things.)

What immediately struck me about the few words that I read was that you’re a woman who wants glamor, chic and most importantly, the attention it brings. You want to be noticed and seen. My bet is you dream of being chased by the papparazzi, so it can fuel the drama that you want in your life.

And in that case, yeah, no wonder you hate this town. We don’t give two shits about you. You have to tell us that you’re an actress, and that you boffed Jude Law, and even then, people here would say, “Jude Law? I heard of him…didn’t he play for the Pirates?”

I love the fact that you don’t consider the city to be funky, even though the King of Funky, Andy Warhol, is from here. There’s a museum here for him and his work. But oh, you really wouldn’t know about that unless someone told you that it’s very chic and cool to like Andy Warhol.

But since your pretentiousness prevents you from mixing with us commoners, here’s a couple things about the city that you’ll never experience:

1) The drunken bliss that is the South Side. I’ve never been to any other city were I can gather up a gaggle of friends, go from bar to bar, drink all night, and end up spending $50 AT MOST. You will never know the blast that is drinking at complete holes like Bar 11, or having a yard at Marios, or having a Primanti’s afterward while being piss drunk. But oh wait, you don’t have friends, unless they can someone benefit you in some way, shape or form. My bad.

2) The fact that we have some fantastic little restaurants where the food is so good that you’ll rapidly understand that you’re paying 5 times as much for crap food “just to be seen.”

3) Hiking in the woods on a chilly fall day. Your fabulous, funky New Yorkers all zip up to Connecticut to see the leaves change–infact, I remember a few years ago where they were paying like $20-$50 for leaves on branches to hang in their apartments. Pffft. Retards.

4) Catching a Pirates game at night at PNC Park, or a cold Steeler or Pitt game at Heinz Field. Really, I’m not even a baseball fan, but that park is so beautiful that I can’t help but relax while there. And being in the elements during a crazy football game is fantastic fun…if you don’t feel alive there, you’re simply dead.

I could go on, but honestly, it’s late, and I’m tired.

But Sienna, let’s face the facts. You’re a B-rate actress trying to be something that your not. You don’t care for us. Cool. Whatever. But you sure showed us (and everyone else) how bright you are and what a class act you are by coming up with some wonderful words such as “Shitsburgh.” How original. No, really, we’ve never heard it. Ever.

Honestly, if you’re going to lob some insults, please learn how. You’re about as big of a loser and about as pathetic as the Browns, and that says something. Ok ok, your hotness ranks you over the Browns, but not by much.

Follow me, Twittering fools!


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