Today in celebrity gossip: A fellow author was not very happy about Gwyneth Paltrow's presence at a book signing, Kanye West wants to be in magazines, and Liam Gallagher has secrets.
Yesterday we mentioned briefly that Gwyneth Paltrow, the answer to a mourning dove's riddle, did a book signing in the Hamptons. But there is more to this story than it initially seemed. You see, there were other authors at this event, and some felt slighted by the big hubbub over Gwyneth's arrival. Specifically, an author named Christina Oxenberg wrote a blog post about the event, detailing how she fought back against Gwyneth's rude security team and the star's general presence. I could paraphrase, but I think we should let Ms. Oxenberg's words stand on their own. Here we go:
Then the divinity in question arrived with hubby, children and a couple of massive bodyguards. The worshippers blocked my view of the whole world, abusing my tiny territory upon which to abandon their trash or lean their sorry asses. So I abandoned my post and took that opportunity to roam the great tent and greet my fellow authors. Which is when I saw the food table, and suddenly I knew what needed doing. I made a plate of miniature sloppy hamburgers, stinky steak sandwiches, and the like and hauled it back to my piece of table.
Gwyneth’s bodyguards blocked my re-entry despite my assurance I was a just an author and pointing at my name tag, “No!” they growled, body blocking me. So I was forced to crawl under the table. And there I sat with my meat products, wafting the excellent smells toward my sleek vegan neighbor. She ignored the siren smells of protein. We never did say hello, although I did try to sell my book to her sleek vegan children. No bites.
So... There's a lot there. And that isn't even the whole blog post. But let's just tackle this part. Mostly, I'd like to talk about the phrase "stinky steak sandwiches." Or more specifically "stinky steak." I'm not sure there is a more repulsive phrase in the English language? I also have no idea what it means. Madame, if the steak is "stinky," if the meat is malodorous, may I gently suggest you not eat it? I don't know about you all out there in your cubicles or at your open-plan tables, but ain't no way I'm eating no stinky steak. That's horrible. Horrible! What's even more horrible is that of course she didn't actually mean that the steak sandwiches stank. She was trying to, y'know, be descriptive. In the worst possible way. "Stinky steak sandwiches." I just... Absolutely not. Moving on, if anyone ever describes children as "sleek" I'm sorry but that's immediate jail. Jail, right away. No judge, no jury, just jail. "Excuse me m'am, did you just describe those two small children as 'sleek'?" "Yes, but I was just trying to sell them my—" "Nope, I'm sorry, jail." That is terrible. That is one of the world's worst things. At least today. Look, I get that being at a book signing and no one paying attention to you because Gwyneth Paltrow, lucite case full of moonlight that she is, is there is frustrating. But if you go and write about stinky steak sandwiches and sleek children, then you are at fault. It's like car accidents. If you hit someone from behind it is always your fault. It doesn't matter if they stopped suddenly or were driving otherwise recklessly. It's your fault. It doesn't matter if they were attention hogging or their security was rude or you felt slighted. If you write "stinky steak sandwiches" and describe young children as "sleek," then it's all you, lady. It's all you. Man oh man. What a world we live in. What a place full of awful, awful words. [Page Six, Wool Domination]
Ha. Apparently Kanye West desperately wants Vogue to publish the first official photos of baby North West, but Anna Wintour is saying no. Oh man. That's great. Kanye West, ladies and gentlemen. Literally the silliest person alive right now. Is there a sillier person? He's also a very talented, possibly brilliant, person, but is nonetheless very, very silly. He really wants to be in the fancy fashion magazine but the mean wig-lady who runs it says no. But he's gonna keep trying, because he really wants to be in the fancy fashion magazine. Let me remind you that Kanye West is a 36-year-old adult. A 36-year-old adult is trying to convince a 3,000-year-old beauty-goblin who runs all of fashion to put his baby in her magazine. What a silly thing! I'm sure we'd all love to have Kanye's riches and would perhaps enjoy the widespread acclaim he's received for his creative endeavors, but to be Kanye West you'd also have to deal with the part of you that begs Anna Wintour to put your photos in her magazine. That's the trade-off. You are rich and famous and people hang on your every word, but you also embarrass yourself to Vogue because you want to be in their magazine. I don't know. Is it an even trade? I'm not sure it is. Really, I'm not. [Radar Online, via Jezebel]
Liam Gallagher, from Oasis (ask your 30-year-old cousin, kids), has ongoing baby mama drama. (Also ask your 30-year-old cousin about the phrase "baby mama drama," because it's an old one and I shouldn't have used it because it is not 2003 anymore. If it was 2003, you kids would probably still be in middle school or some nonsense. So let's just pretend I didn't say it and move on.) He fostered a so-called "love child" with an American woman who is suing for child support but now he's thrown a wrench in the gears. He wants her to sign an agreement that she will, and I'm quoting Page Six here, "never reveal any of his secrets." !!!!!! Is that allowed? Are you legally allowed to have someone sign an agreement that they will never reveal your secrets? Like, just a vague blanket ban of all secrets? "I have so many secrets!" Liam Gallagher cries to his lawyer. "So many secrets." I mean, look, we all have secrets, humans are mostly secrets and bones. But do we have such secrets that we'd make someone sign a legal agreement saying "No secret telling!"? I just don't know that most of us do. What, then, are Liam Gallagher's secrets? Bodies buried? Nights best forgotten? Private wishes murmured in the dark? This is the Streisand Effect of legal agreements. The more Liam Gallagher tries to hide his secrets, the more I want to know them. What did happen that night on that lonely road all those years ago? What did Lucy Wilkinson whisper in his ear in the schoolyard when they were 13? What did he see that day when his parents didn't know he was home? These are all good secrets, and now that he really, legally, doesn't want us to know them, I want them so bad. I want your secrets so much, Liam Gallagher. Give them to me. To us. Divulge yourself. Transcend. Release. [Page Six]
Ummm... Actress Famke Janssen apparently came home to her New York City apartment recently and found a copy of the children's book The Lonely Doll in her bedroom. She doesn't own a copy of The Lonely Doll. She called the police and they are investigating, but let's also hope that she packed up and moved to a cabin in Nova Scotia because good grief wouldn't you want to hide forever if you came home and this book was mysteriously in your bedroom. Hatchi matchi that is scary. Yipes. Shivers. Eek. [TMZ]
Ali Lohan, sister of Lindsay and Michael, daughter of Dina and Michael, friend of the world, has a new apartment in New York City's Greenwich Village. She moved in there last week, fresh-faced and smiling. That's all. Us Weekly used the photo of her moving as an excuse to talk about how skinny she is, about her "drastic new look," but I don't know. She mostly looks like a 19-year-old doing a thing on a summer afternoon. She's not wearing makeup, Us Weekly remarks. Well of course she's not wearing makeup. Who would wear makeup while moving into an apartment? What a silly observation. "Lohan wasn't wearing a ball gown while she moved into her Greenwich Village apartment." "Lohan was visibly not wearing jewels as she carried her futon up the stairs." Get outta here with that, Us Weekly. Pfft. Enjoy the new place, young Lohan. Treat it well. Let it treat you well. See you at Milady's. When you're old enough. [Us Weekly]