Jenna Fischer and James Gunn Call it Quits

Actress Jenna Fisher and her husband of nearly seven years, writer/director James Gunn, have announced their separation. The news came today via synchronized blog posts on James and Jenna’s MySpace pages. The blog entry, titled “Our Statement,” says in part,

“We (James and Jenna) need to announce that we have chosen to separate. We are sorry for any pain this causes family and friends. The enthusiasm we have expressed for each other's lives, spirits, and careers is real – we have been each other's cheerleader and friend during the past six years and continue to be so now and in the future.”

They also have the requisite plea for privacy, asking their MySpace friends to avoid trying to

“make one of us ‘feel better’ by putting the other one down in a post. Please don't – we still have the utmost respect for one another, and we'd have to delete you.”

At the age of six, Fischer took her very first acting class with Sean Gunn (Gilmore Girls), James’ brother. The couple, however, didn’t actually meet each other until 2000 when Jenna attended a script reading for Gunn’s film, The Specials. They were married later that same year.

That ain't mine!

I haven't really been talking about Lohan because the whole thing depresses me. Perez posted a letter from the world's worst mother and it's pretty much what you think it would be. I was going to repost it here, but the denial might hurt your soul. Here are the highlights:

*She was wearing someone else's pants!

*The meanie-head cops strongarmed her into taking a breathalyzer!

*It's all the paparazzi's fault anyway!

*Lindsay should leave LA and go live with her family!

Oh, Dina. Dina, Dina, Dina. Have you looked at your daughter? I mean, really looked at her in a way that isn't like a cartoon character stranded on a desert island who's so hungry that their companion turns into a giant chicken leg (except in your case it's one of those sacks with a big dollar bill sign)? Because if you have, you wouldn't be saying stuff like this. You would be saying something more along the lines of, "Yikes. My bad, y'all. We'll be at a rehab facility in Oregon if you need us."

And Lindsay, I'm begging you. DO NOT MOVE IN WITH YOUR FAMILY. Yes, come back to New York, but come to Brooklyn instead. You can stay with us. We'll watch Mean Girls and talk about where it all started to go wrong, and you'll be in bed by 11.

Beauty and the beastly commercial

I love Kate Walsh. Like, love her. Ever since the stupid Izzie/George storyline, she's become my favorite character on Grey's Anatomy. Private Practice is probably going to suck, but I"ll watch it anyway--because she's awesome.

Kate's been having a great week too. In addition to Private Practice being picked up for fall, she got engaged. Things have been going well for her lately; which is why I have no explanation for this.

Seriously, go watch it. They wouldn't let me embed it, but it is well worth the click. Not only can I not explain why Kate Walsh is doing a literal soap opera, I just do not understand what it is in general. Please, someone explain it to me.

And the winner is...

I love trannies. Truly. I wish I had a cadre of tranny girlfriends. It would be just like Sex and the City except...well, actually it would be just like Sex and the City. Anyway, last night in New York, there was a tranny celebrity look-alike contest. Check out the Jessica Simpson entry. Pretty good, right?



Except this is actually a picture of Jessica Simpson at the MET Costume Institute Benefit Gala last night. Awkward.

A girl's gotta eat

About a decade ago, when I was just an impressionable teenager, I took a trip to D.C. with my brother, sister-in-law and baby niece. As I was sitting in the back seat on the way to Arlington National Cemetery, the baby started to cry. Quicker than lightning, my sister-in-law, who was in the passenger seat, sprang into action. She unbuckled her seatbelt, turned around in her seat, pulled out her left breast and stuck it in my niece's mouth--not eight inches from my shocked face. After seeing my horrified expression, she and my brother burst out laughing and made fun of my trauma for the rest of the day. The point of that story is this: For those people who are all shocked and outraged about Maggie Gyllenhaal breastfeeding her daughter in the park, YOU DO NOT EVEN KNOW. For reals.


Celebrity Baby Blog

You can take the girl out of rehab...

...but you can't take the lonely, desperate coke-whore out of the girl.

On the scale of ridiculous celebrity charades, the fact that Lindsay Lohan does coke, like, constantly, is pretty freakin' high on the list. It's somewhere between Paris not realizing her license was suspended and John Travolta not sticking it to dudes in his trailer.

So when the screenshots of Lindsay doing coke in an LA bathroom surfaced, it was pretty much the least-surprising thing ever. So much so, that when I looked at the pictures, I had two thoughts: The first one was "ew, that girl let Lindsay stick her finger up her nose" and "ew, I won't even take my drink into a bathroom. People poo in there."

Unfortunately, we don't have the actual video yet, so in the mean time, here's a kicky montage to dance to at work.

Madonna's reinventing herself!

...Wait. That's totally not the point of this video. The point of this video is that Will Ferrell isn't satisfied with constantly opening #1 movies. He needs to take over the YouTube as well.




Ooooh. Nothing's safe from the Hollywood machine.

Shhh. I'm watching this.

There is absolutely no reason for me to post this, other than the fact that I just came across it today. I present to you the greatest two minutes in MTV's history and probably award show history in general. Seriously. I cannot think of anything better than this.

OHMYGODCANYOUBELIEVEIT??????

Yeah. I can.

To absolutely no one's surprise (especially Howard K Stern's) Larry Birkhead is the father of Anna Nicole's kid.

Now can we never speak of this again?

So, uh, it turns out Kermit is left-handed.

This was brought to my attention this weekend and keeping with the theme of crazy-ass videos it seemed like it would be a good idea to post a video of Kermit the Frog singing "Hurt" by Nine Inch Nails.

So for those of you who have had a burning desire to see your favorite muppet shooting up, vomiting and crying, here you go. It's disturbing, but still not as sad as the Johnny Cash version.



He still looks more convincing with a guitar than Lindsay Lohan.

It must be something in the air

Ryan Reynolds has always filled the role of generic cheesy blond "hunky" guy with abs. Lately however, he has gotten hot. Like, Ryan Gossling hot. In fact, in Smokin' Aces, Reynolds bore a striking resemblence to a Half Nelson Gossling.

So taking this into consideration, it makes complete sense for Alanis Morissette to pull a Beyonce and make a completely insane video. Reynolds must have been very good in bed, as she didn't stop at making a crazy video for one of her songs. No, she decided to do a cover of The Black-Eyed Peas' "My Humps." It's truly terrifying.



I usually just eat a lot of ice cream and watch Law & Order, but good for you, Alanis. Get through it any way you can.

Beyonce takes things literally

Poor Beyonce. I've been worried about her for awhile. First, she came out with her highly-anticipated follow-up to her debut solo project, Dangerously in Love, and decided to wear the wig that ate Pittsburgh on the cover. So instead of looking totally hot, she ended up looking like somebody's crazy aunt Melba.


Then, of course, there's the awkward title, B'Day. I'm pretty sure this is supposed to be "B-Day" like the abbreviation for birthday, but kind of looks like it should be pronounced "bidet," which, ew. All of these are unfortunate decisions on B's part, but nothing to be overly worried about.

Then Dreamgirls happened.

What was supposed to be her breakout performance turned into a coming-out party for Jennifer Hudson, relegating Beyonce to the role of "co-star who claps politely and smiles through the rage at every award show of the season." When Hudson won the Oscar, I think it was a tipping point for Miss Beyonce.

To wit: her new video for the song "Kitty Kat."




Wait, what? I saw this on April Fool's, but I'm pretty sure she's deadly serious. She's riding a house cat and batting around a ball of yarn. This is what her life has come to.

But I don't cry for her. Why? because I think this could mark the beginning of an exciting new arc in her career. She can go from being Miss Beyonce, diva extraordinaire, to Beyonce Knowles, crazy Diva who shows up to the red carpet wearing a cape and dragging along a manservant on a leash. She can be music's Janice Dickinson.

So ride that house cat Beyonce. Ride it.

"I have been working on this show for three WEEKS!"

This is almost definitely fake (the quality is just a little too good), but I love Paul Rudd, I love ex-State castmembers and I love meltdowns.

And dear, sweet Jesus. If I had a nickel for every time I wanted to grab a broom and just fuck shit up...

Celebrity Sighting (Saturday 3/24)

I don't hang out in fashionable places or Newark Airport, so I rarely have celebrity sightings anymore. I have movie sightings fairly often; Jodie Foster filmed The Brave One in my neighborhood last summer and within the past few weeks I've run into two separate shooting locations for The Bourne Ultimatum, but the only people I ever saw were pissed off teamsters and harried assistants.

As I was walking around downtown on Saturday after a show at The Ace of Clubs, I saw just enough drunk blondes in too-high heels teetering around the street to know that the time was ripe for a good celebrity sighting. So who was delivered to me? Well, if you haven't already guessed by the picture, it was Naomi Watts impregnator Liev Schriber.

Oh, Liev. With the impronounceable name and the serious acting and the four episode arc on CSI. The guy who, to most, looks vaguely familiar at best and only prompts me to go "oh my god, oh my god, yeeeee!" In my head, of course. I've had a mad crush on him ever since I was babysitting a coworker's kid in high school and saw Denise Calls Up on Showtime. He was ridiculously hot then and was ridiculously hot as he rushed down the street alone talking on his cell phone.

Just a side note: When you're trying to explain who he is to your friends, yelling out "RKO 281!" doesn't help.

"I don't know what I'm doing here"

I don't know either, Lily, but as long as it involves cursing, it's okay by me.

I saw I Heart Huckabees in the theater. The cast was great and it had some entertaining parts, but all in all, I was underwhelmed. However, if they had released it as two hours of Lily Tomlin yelling at director David O. Russell like she is in this clip from the set, then I would own the deluxe edition on DVD.

Face of Wax

I've stared at this picture for the past five minutes and I still can't figure it out. If I told you that this was the new Paris Hilton exhibit at Madame Tussaud's, you'd totally believe me, right? Because, ew.


Photo from A Socialites Life

Coming Attractions: The Reaping

Hilary Swank's performances in Boys Don't Cry and Million Dollar Baby were gut wrenching, point-perfect examples of what movie acting can be. She richly deserved both Oscars she won for these roles, so why doesn't she believe it? Because, that's what it is, right? That's the reason her first starring role after Baby was Dangerous Minds 2: More Dangerouser, or Freedom Writers as IMDB calls it. Now, she's following that with the horror movie The Reaping.

She's playing Katherine Winter, a former Christian missionary who has (of course) lost her faith, but just may regain it while investigating what appear to be Biblical plagues in a small Louisiana town. Swank is the only big name in the film--they couldn't even get one of the Fanning sisters to play the role of "creepy little blond girl who may or may not be the Antichrist." That, combined with the fact that the screenwriters, Chad and Carey Hayes, are the twin brothers responsible for the Paris Hilton vehicle, House of Wax, should be a clear sign that there is something seriously wrong with this movie.

The only positive thing that can possibly come from this film would be Swank finally realizing that she's an A-List star who doesn't deserve to be in B-List purgatory. The Next Karate Kid was a long time ago, Hilary. You can't punish yourself forever. We've moved on; hopefully you will too.