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Week In Review: Yeah, Yeah, I Missed You, Too



OK, not really, but I thought if I said something nice perhaps you could at least pretend. But no, not you. That crappy reality show of yours is sinking faster than the stock market. But you just don't know how to leave well enough alone, do you?

Your neighbors got sick of the camera crews and paparazzi you call in and raised a stink so you put your house on the market. But let's get real: Who's going to pay $4.2 million for a glorified kennel? Cats, dogs, pigs, all eating, sleeping and fornicating under your roof. That's right. Everyone but you is gettin' some. And now you've gone and dragged the kids into it again, claiming some hideous horrible things are happening at the ex's house. Again. I really hope he takes them away from you this time.

While it's usually the other way around, I think this week's stand-outs would do well to study a page out of your book ... and do the opposite. Even at their worst they can't touch you.

Not to say what Little Indy did was all right: Shia LaBoeuf finally was admitted to the DUI wall of shame this weekend, when an accident he was involved in injured him, his passenger and the other driver. Transformers II will have to be delayed while Shia has surgery on his hand and then recovers from same. Dude's only 22, but already can't hold his liquor.

Last year's poster child for DUI, one Lindsay Lohan, was also involved in a fender bender this weekend, but was treated and released. Best yet, she wasn't driving. You know that's Sam's influence at work. Good job.

Baby picture mania is in full season and the paps will stop at nothing to get that money shot. Halle Barry wants to prosecute the photographers who spied on her in her back yard, while Brad Pitt's security team ambushed a couple of paps in camouflage on their French estate. Enough is enough, people. Let the babies be free! Besides, at least in this case, there are millions at stake. Since Brad and Angie will most likely donate those millions to charity, who do you think will really get hurt here?

Another new arrival we haven't seen yet is little Miss Sunday Rose Kidman-Urban, whose mother's body is already back to pre-pregnancy size less than two weeks after allegedly giving birth. I still think there's a surrogate in there somewhere, but they've probably buried her in the woods by now.

In other mother news, Heather Locklear was released from rehab this week. It's interesting to note that while marriage rumors are swirling about Heather and Jack Wagner, it was her ex, Richie Sambora, who called her daily while she was recovering. I know, I know, he probably still feels guilty, but it's the thought that counts.

In shrewd media manipulator news, Madonna continues to prepare for her upcoming tour, but the stress is taking its toll, not only on her but on her daughter, Lourdes, as well. It should be interesting to see what she pulls out of her cone bra now; even rumors of a sex tape with A-Rod didn't spike sales, and no one really wants to read the book she may or may not have ghost-written with her brother.

Also not having the best week was Sienna Miller, whose little boy titties were plastered all over the tabloids and web AGAIN this week. While Sienna may have looked like she was having the time of her life, her friends on both sides of the pond have shunned her. Worse yet, her married paramour is said to be begging his wife for forgiveness. Has she already dumped him, or is he pining for married life again? Time will tell.

Perhaps Rosetta Getty should take a page out of Shanna Moakler's book. When confronted with the hairy beast that is Kim Kardashian at a BBQ last week, Shanna wasted little time, calling her a fat donkey and throwing a drink in her face. That was a party I wish I had been invited to. I won't lose any sleep over it, though.

As for you, I'd stop messing with Charlie before you lose the kids. We all know Charlie's a dog, but even he wouldn't stoop that low. And if you keep this crap up, the only invites you'll be getting are the ones that will tell you where to go. And that's far, far away.



 






 

 

 

 








 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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