Today I was abhorred after reading about John Karr, the self-alleged killer of Jon Benet. It put me in a fury that a man would not only do such a terrible act, but make up something so brutal. I quickly, snapped my fingers at summoned a Mojito.
I do believe in castration for useless people like that. If felines have to do it, at least use it as a consequence to all the child molesters in the world - starting with Jacko.
Nevertheless, I was pleased to see the tv show 24 take the Emmy, and Tony Shaloub for Monk - even though I've never seen it. I was titch dissapointed that Lisa Kudrow didn't walk away with an Emmy for her dramatic turn as Valerie Cherish on The Comeback. Mainly because Julia-Louis Dreyfuss and I do NOT get along.
One drunken day 'round the time of the '96 People's Choice Awards, JLD and I sat under a Central Park Bench, giggling and counting foreigners. It was a muggy morning, and I guess we woke up there. But nobody knew. There were no autograph hounds nor paparazzi. I guess we looked like vagabonds. Like Dylan or Kerouac. We were not romantically involved. It was just a coke thing. She was so grouchy that morning. Saying that there were ticks all over her private regions. I scoffed, " I'm clean as a whistle. Toddle-doo. I have brunch with the Prince of Cashmir and I have to clean up." So Manuel brought my segwy and I was off. But, just as I reached my grip on the handle bars Julia had the gall to ask for cash.
-"Cash?" I pondered. "What's that?" I said.
-"Cash? You know? Money in paper form. To borrow, you know." She pleaded, like a immigrant peasant.
- "I only carry cards, and my den mother, Cloris Leachman, told me 'Neither borrow nor a lender be'. You'll have to use your celebrity!
Then I wisped away on the Segway to brunch.
Julia has never forgiven me for some reason.
Its either that or because I zoomed over her as I drove away.
John Goodman told me I broke her ankle in eight places. I asked him for her address to send a bouquet. He advised I visit the hospital. I refused. I don't visit hospitals. Doctors visit me. The architecture bores me.
So, Emmy Night. Stephen Cojucaru (Cojo) has his little crush on me, but I can't be around him because he make my soul feel ugly, so I slipped into the HBO Party narrowly avoiding his cheek implants. So, I run up to Adrian Grenier and I hide out with him in the bathroom stall. He offers me a snort of "Splenda". I decline, but we share a stall while he does his thing, and I do mine. To him.
Otherwise I'd say it was a swell evening. I'm happy for you Julia-Louis, and I hope you can forgive me, someday - especially now that your employed again.
Off to Bermuda for a week. Aufweidersien.
Beckett Boo, esquire
Cat Blogger Extraordinaire!
Shannon Do(ugh)erty is such a bitch. I ran into her at Whole Foods and at Trader's Joe's on the same day. She pushed aside my child, Absalom, into the jellies and they spilled all over my beige Prada Yen-Loafers. I was besieged by "photogs" while Shannon zoomed out of the store with her shopping cart full of banana chips, rasberry Stoli and organic tampons - without paying, I might add - well, I just did add.
So, I kicked off the Prada Loafers and prowled out to the parking lot to confront the Ho' basket for not apologizing nor paying. The manager, Tim Cox, escorted me. A lovely gentlemen. Lanky, fit. So, Tim stops Shannon before she gets on the public bus while I flag down a cop with my Gucci ascot. Some cops laughed dismissing us as if we were a reality show, one cop licked a booger off his window, another reminded me of a cross between Ray Liotta and Kevin Spacey, and finally, Officer Dakota stopped for us. Tim's nuts were bleeding because Shannon was wearing stillettos, but Officer Dakota intervened and arrested Shannon on the spot. I sold my camera phone picture to Star magazine for an undisclosed amount of money. But it won't cover the price of my Prada Loafers. Elton John gave them to me after I won my Oscar for Terms of Endearment.
Meanwhile, I left my man-child, Absalom in the Whole Foods during the entire ruckus. So, I return to Absalom and fucking Jeff Bridges is convincing my son that there is global warming, and how we need to build more trees. "Build?" It's "grow" Jeff, and stay away from Absalom. Jeff has always terrified children. A child should believe that world is mystical and magical for so long. Then when he turns 18 you should tell him all the truth about the world: There is no Santa Claus. We stole America and annihilated the Natives. Tom Selleck is gay. Jesus was a good man and provoked a lot of good inspiration in people, but, sadly, his image has been abused by various ententies which in turn shed more blood than enlightenment. I have six toes. Drugs are bad, except marijuana and mushrooms (moderation, folks!). Leeks are an underestimated vegetable. Lindsay Lohan is a terrible actress. Don't waste your time reading War & Peace 'cause its a waste of time. Never use Courier Text unless its for a film/tv script, or your making a visual point in a poem - but even then, I'd question. Cigarettes do not make someone look cool, unless he's hot and Cuban. Living in a two bedroom home with more than fifteen people is illegal in California. Pork does not have to be cooked well done. Only get calenders with inspirational quotes - tear out the E.E. Cummings though, and burn thoroughly. Gym Teachers are perverts. Harpoon a whale only if he doesn't succumb to your whistle. Never pay for the first date. Blow candles out before leaving the house, but light them, steadfastly, as you re-enter. Your stuffed animals don't move when you close your eyes. Men don't ask Men questions unless they are pointing to something. Dr. Phil is a load of crap and ego. Spiders want to kill you. Show remorse, but never swallow your pride. Paper cuts - so always think of it as a potential weapon. Some people are really allergic and some just say they are. Knowledge is strength, and strength is balance, and balance is will, and will is inspiration, and inspiration is godliness and godliness is me.
Amen. The Loafers are in the shoppe.
Beckett Boo esq.
Cat Blogger Extraordinaire!
Today I realized why my waitress at Beoufannte blushed a pale green when I remarked on her Lebanese back-hair.
a) She must have felt embarassed by my candid, truthful remark or b) We're also at War.
It's been so long since I read the paper. Usually, Manuel, during breakfast texts me the morning Hollywood gossip. I seem to have o'erlooked the crisis in the Middle East. So, I ran to the nearest bodega and asked the attendant (in Aramic) for the NY Post. In in it, I pursued for 20 seconds in the taxi that WWar3 was just begging. I got car sick, and missed my plane from London to NYC. If I had gone to to the Versace 50th Anniversary I would have been on one of thoses planes; possibly, even worse dying with White Zin and closeted Stewardii. So, I called the estate of Aaron Spelling and coersed Candy to let me borrow the Spelling plane. She was faxing something to herself that read, "Last straw, Tori takes seesaw." Incidently, ten pills of vicodan fell from her plush robe. I wasn't going to mention it until I wrote it.
War is going on , and one of the many things I realized is that we should all come Together. We are all stars. We all come from nothing and go to nowhere. There is some God! Who cares what you name it? Give Jerusalem to the United Nations. Plus, have you see pictures of those Israeli Soldiers. Gorgeous. Stunning. My friend says Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, the Iranian President is "hot". I don't. (Hold on...) I think he looks - looks, okay I just googled him and he's hot. But I, firmly do not, subscribe to his beliefs and rants. I believe he just doesn't understand Capitalism. President Bush should take him to Disney Orlando and McDonald's, maybe even Target. He will see our panache and, perhaps, want to mold his economy after us, and our faux happiness. We have our own God it's just called "Consumerism". Once they get over the "angry" thing they'll understand. They'll want to - plus Mahmoud and I are dating and things are going well.
I look forward to enlightening you as best I can. You inspire as well.
Call Blogger Extraordinare!