ELIJAH WOOD IS GAY. i saw it on the Innarnet, so it must be true.

Jack Osbourne goes to a special place where he will get better and not sleep all day anymore. (at least, that's how my father once described it to me.) the Sun, and their lesser known cousin, MELODRAMA, are there.

The heartbroken rocker and wife Sharon wept as they visited the stricken teenager. Sharon, 50, threw her arms round him before he shuffled back inside Las Encinas Hospital in Pasadena, California. Staff at the private clinic, which specialises in drug addiction and psychiatric care, refused to say what Jack was being treated for last night.

terminal homeliness?

God, i dig Kelly's hair in this time of crisis. Kelly = rescue.

so i decided to break down this week and give "listening to the radio" another try. and was ultimately sorry for it. every 20 minutes the DJ would announce, "the lovely and talented Avril Lavigne coming right up!" just like that. lovely and talented. every. single. time. they must have some sort of contract with the record company or something: ..for every instance the phrase 'lovely and talented' is used in conjunction with Miss Lavigne, radio station will recieve X amount of dollars. i ran screaming back to my lover.

meanwhile, Madonna flooded the file-sharing services with fake mp3s; hackers fought back. sorry but i'm with the hackers on this one. Madonna needs to have a nice warm cup of STFU and join us in the "21st century lounge". i mean, as long as it's ok with her husband.

she also thinks Brits are lazy, and i quote: "It was really important for me to get outside of America, to live in England and appreciate the fabulous things about America, like customer services and stuff." yeah! USA ROXXORS U BITCHS WE GOT TEH CUZTOMOR SURVIZ!!11!1

can somebody please explain to me why this "Make Luv" song is such a massive hit? it has, like, one lyric. if this is the best shit coming out of England nowadays i'm seriously disturbed.

It was not immediately known how Peterson delivered the baby. One theory centers around the unusual medical phenomenon called "coffin birth." It occurs when the gas that naturally builds up in the abdomen and pelvic area of a decomposing body produces enough pressure to push the unborn baby through the birth canal.

well, that wasn't disgusting or anything.

i'm conducting an experiment. i'm waiting to see exactly how much the bathroom wastebasket must overflow before BF notices and decides to do something about it. maybe when he finally slips on a used condom and lands on his ass, he'll realize the Trash Fairy neglected to visit us this week.

woman can't cope with her small daughter's "educational difficulties"-- so she shoots her. in the back. while she's sleeping. because, you know, parenting makes you a better person.

justice has prevailed. now can you please get over yourself? what about all those people who snuck pictures of our eighth-grade production of H.M.S. Pinafore-- should i sue? i was only in the chorus, but i believe they made me look sleazy and, possibly, a bit bosomy.

"Catherine Eater Jones". hee.

last night we went out to eat, and chose this Italian restaurant we'd ordered pizza from before. they serve other dishes as well, so we figured it'd be good for a sit-down affair. when we got there the hostess said it would be a 20 minute wait, big fucking deal, so we sat down and thought we'd have a look at the menu.

well it was ridiculous. the lowest entree was a plate of ravioli for $11, and that's not even including soup or salad. listen, we are not cheap people by any means, but we do believe in getting maximum value for our money. i know fine dining when i see it-- this was highway robbery. for that price they might as well pull a gun on you. for that kind of price and atmosphere i could get a better meal at Red Fucking Lobster. shit, for that price i could make the hour and a half drive to the North End, and get dessert at Mike's Pastry while i'm at it. i mean, good Lord.

we went up to the counter and asked them to take our name off the list. the hostess-- a big-eyed teenage girl with all the composure of a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, bless her heart-- quaked, "but your table will be right up.." i politely and sweetly told her it wasn't that, something had come up. and we left. and settled on this Latin-American type place that was a bit slow on drink refills, but at least it didn't run us $40. thank God it's still a capitalist country, that's all i have to say.

i finally saw Mulholland Dr.. you know, that shit all the art-whores were jerking off to a year or so ago? about halfway into it i realized exactly why i had waited so long to see it. like all good films it left me reeling with challenging questions; for example, WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOING ON. GOD, i hate David Lynch.

it says that it's 2 hours, 27 mins long. but i swear that it's longer than that. at first i had hope because it starts out fairly interesting and swiftly engaging and, GOD FORBID, comprehensible-- and then, like bad sex, it just spirals into confusion so fast that your weird-shit-o-meter just can't process it and you wind up so frustrated and excessively teased by the prospect of things-- anything, really-- falling into place at any moment, that you just want to dive behind the couch, break down and cry in a ball of mental exhaustion. at least, that was my experience.

i have, of course, considered the possibility that i might just be dense. i highly doubt it; after all, i did really enjoy Boxing Helena-- especially after it came out on VHS and i could fast-forward to all the fuck scenes.

in my last-ditch efforts to prove my critical thinking skills, i did some searching and turned up this: Everything You Were Afraid to Ask About "Mulholland Drive". enjoy. or should i say, good luck.

last night i dreamt that BF became angry with me, anally raped me and then left me for good. when i woke up next to him i told him that at the end of the dream, i was just wandering down the side of the road because i just didn't know where to go or what to do next, and this guy that i sort of know pulled up on a motorcycle and asked if i wanted a ride, and even though i don't ride motorcycles because they are death traps i thought "fuck it" and climbed on behind him, speeding away down a dark and ominous highway without looking back.

"oh," he replied. "i dreamt we went to Disneyland."