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One Day at a Time

The Week in Review

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MONDAY, MAY 3 It's time for yet another occasion to shake our heads dismissively, wag our collective finger, and sigh, "Oh, you men." This week's no-good, cheatin' horndog is none other than David Boreanaz, AKA TV's Angel and that impossibly good-looking guy on Bones. Boreanaz confessed to People magazine today that he has cheated on his wife Jaime Bergman—who we know nothing about, but already like more than Elin Nordegren and Sandra Bullock combined. "I was associated with a woman who I was involved with and had a relationship with," Boreanaz said, using the circular logic cheaters often employ. "She asked for money. I felt as though I was being blackmailed or there was some sort of extortion." OH, YOU MEN. Can't you just simply apologize before immediately grasping for the "Wah, wah! I'm being blackmailed!" justification? However, in Boreanaz's defense it would initially appear there may be a trickster involved, because according to Radar Online, the alleged mistress in this alleged situation is none other than Tiger Woods' alleged mistress Rachel Uchitel! Yeah, she's the same mistress who, after the Tiger scandal broke, told OK! magazine, "People have called me homewrecker, gold-digger, tramp, whore. I make mistakes, but I'm not those things. I have very good qualities." Hmm... we don't think having a celebrity man-trap installed in one's vaheena necessarily counts as "a good quality." MEANWHILE... America was stunned into silence today when People magazine announced that country music singer Chely Wright has come out! You know... as... GAY! Naturally no one could believe it at first, because usually someone has to know who you are before it matters whether or not you're gay. And of course, since it doesn't matter anyway if anyone is or is not gay, it super doesn't matter that Chely Wright—who no one has ever heard of—is gay. But... ummm... good for her, we guess?

TUESDAY, MAY 4 Here is a much more interesting way of telling the world you're gay: First of all become a nationally known and outspoken homophobe who co-founded the conservatively religious Family Research Council, then hire a male prostitute to travel with you around Europe—and if anyone asks? Say he was hired to "lift the luggage." That was exactly the case for Florida anti-gay activist George Alan Rekers, who, according to hilarious coverage from Miami New Times, hired a dude prostitute named "Lucien" from Rentboy.com (HAAAAA!!) to carry his luggage around Europe—though Lucien contends he also had to give Rekers nude body rubs once a day, paying special attention to the "penis, thigh... and his anus." (Maybe that particular massage stroke is called "lifting the luggage"?) Naturally, the homo-hating Rekers denies being gay, and says he spent much of his European vacation "sharing scientific information [with Lucien] on the desirability of abandoning homosexual intercourse." No, Rekers is obviously not gay. He's curing homosexuals of their homosexuality by hiring them to rub his anus. And frankly, if that doesn't work, nothing will.

WEDNESDAY, MAY 5 And if any straight person is interested in being cured of their heterosexuality, may we suggest having a tryst with tattooed skank/alleged Nazi sympathizer Michelle "Bombshell" McGee (best known for boinking Sandra Bullock's disgusting hubby)? Today Michelle went on the Howard Stern Show and was questioned about her swastika tattoo and ties to the white supremacy movement. "No, I was never a white supremacist," she told Howard. "More like white pride stuff." (UMMMMMMMM... are we crazy, or is that not exactly the same thing?) But OH, it gets better. When Howard asked if she had ever dated a black person, Michelle responded, "I've dated other races, just not a black guy. I'm not against it. I make a horrible racist Nazi. I have too many colored friends." Oh, no she didn't? OH, YES SHE DID.

THURSDAY, MAY 6 Today Michael Lohan—deadbeat dad to Lindsay Lohan, and probably three-quarters of the reason her life is such a disaster—was struck by lightning while flying in a plane from New York to LA. Unfortunately for all concerned, the plane landed safely and he continued on his path of making sure his daughter is dead before her 25th birthday. When reached for comment, God said, "What can I say? Throwing lightning bolts is not an exact science."

FRIDAY, MAY 7 FACT: Before he died, Michael Jackson would prank call Russell Crowe. (Think about that sentence, dears. Ponder it. It's practically a Zen koan.) Crowe recounted Jacko's calls in an interview with GQ. "A gruff voice would say something was wrong, then this tiny little voice said, 'Don't worry. This is Michael.'" Huh. As there is absolutely nothing we can add to this story—aside from the obvious observation that apparent BFFs Crowe and Jackson really should have starred in a remake of The Odd Couple—we will move on, with the knowledge that nothing we say from here on out can ever trump the beauty and wonder of the following sentence: Before he died, Michael Jackson would prank call Russell Crowe.

SATURDAY, MAY 8 Bad news, ladies—Colin Hanks is off the market! Today Hollyweird's most dashing piece of milquetoast, Colin, married publicist Samantha Bryant in a ceremony that attendees said was "adequate" an—OH THANK GOD, Mickey Rourke just showed up to make today about a kabillion times more interesting! "You can be less than mediocre and be a fucking movie star," the hulking golem slurred to Parade this weekend. "I have respect for very few actors and actresses. Some of them get a lot of acclaim but just because their movie made $200 million at the box office; they still suck. I got no respect for them and I used to let them know it. It was important for me to put that aside and go, 'You know what? This is a business. If you kiss the right ass and you get lucky on a movie or two, you could last 10 years.' So now I just keep my mouth shut and pet my Chihuahuas." Rourke also opined on independent cinema ("Sometimes the independent movies can get a little too arty-farty. You watch the IFC Channel and you want to throw up.") and why blockbusters cost a mint ("I'd just come off working on The Wrestler, which had no budget and I didn't even have a chair to sit in. I remember the first day on Iron Man 2, I said, 'Can I have a cappuccino?' and they said, 'Which kind would you like?'"). We aren't sure what Mickey did after finishing his interview with Parade, but we like to imagine he drunkenly crashed Colin Hanks' wedding. With his Chihuahuas. Who were also drunk.

SUNDAY, MAY 9 Let it be known that we find Jake Gyllenhaal just as swoon worthy as the next lady—in fact, just last week, we might have written "Mrs. Jake Gyllenhaal," "Mrs. Ann Gyllenhaal," and "Ann Gyllenhaal" repeatedly in cursive on notebook paper for several hours, until we had to stop because (A) Hubby Kip was coming home any minute, and (B) we got tired of repeatedly having to check how to spell "Gyllenhaal." HOWEVER! Recent news that Jake G. is terrified of ostriches is making us reconsider our crush. "They would say, 'Don't make any noise around the ostriches. They'll tear out your eyes and rip out your heart.' So I was naturally terrified! They look like they're innocent, but they're really not," the disappointingly wussy Jake told People about his time on the set of Prince of Persia. Lest you think—as we did—that Jake is joking, costar Gemma Arterton agrees that he's a big fat baby. "He was really scared," Arterton added. "He ran away, and the look on his face—it's not acting. It's real." And, just like that, another dream dies.

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