Baby, Come Over, I Need Entertaining. I Had a Stilted, Pretending Day
That's pretty much entertainment news at this moment. Lindsay Lohan is the dead cat, all dramatic music stings and disgusted groans, and everything else is just gross filler.
You guys, there's been nothing. Fucking nothing. Here's just how nothing there's been. This was one of the top stories on the homepage of The Hollywood Reporter, the nation's oldest, once respected, entertainment trade publication.
Emmy-nominated actress Lea Michele narrowly avoided a horrific car accident Sunday at 4:45 p.m. involving an overturned car. While stopped at the intersection, a car running a red light collided with a truck, causing the truck to flip over multiple times before eventually stopping a few feet from Michele's vehicle. The star immediately exited the car and stepped to safety on the side of the road. "The Office" star Mindy Kaling was also tied up in traffic that developed as a result of the accident.
So some chick from a TV show didn't get into a car accident, and Mindy Kaling got stuck in traffic. Janice Min, you're a dick. A lady dick. A clit. But not in a good way. The sex tape stills of Chyna's roidy one (don't Google that). That kind.
By the way, I'm really happy that Lea Michele is OK after her traumatic episode. It was pretty shitty of the guy with the steering column through his throat to scare her like that.
Honestly, that's pretty much all there is. Other than that, it's been nothing but Lindsay Lohan might be addicted to meth, Lindsay Lohan might be bi-polar, Lindsay Lohan didn't even get to have her hair done and get photographed before she was whisked off to rehab.
A quick digression before quickly getting off the subject and never speaking of her again, but I am so sick of celebrities playing the "I might be bi-polar" card to make them look less degenerate to the masses. For those of us who've had our lives in some ways fucked up by BPD, ours or a loved one's, it's really not too enjoyable to hear it used as an excuse for some starlet to do a lot of coke and for her mom to get into a fight over Fudgie the fucking Whale.
I am not going to pretend that I am in any way above mindless celebrity chatter. Hell, sometimes it pays my bills. But if there's nothing to say, then just don't say anything. Don't rehash Angelina the Whore Mistress vs. Jennifer the Sad Cat Lady because you don't have a better cover story. Don't update the world daily on Britney Spear's hillbilly rat's nest hair. And don't make me angrily have to write about the nothing you're writing about, thereby essentially having me write about nothing and making my brain implode into a big Escher mess of layered stupid.