The Most Ugly Side of Beautiful

Beatrice Goes Hollywood. Copyright 2013 Totsymae

Beatrice Goes Hollywood. Copyright 2013 Totsymae

It’s a beautiful day to be alive and gossiping, people. I have so much scoop for you today, I could darn near choke. Somebody get behind thee and give me the Heimlich Manuever. Preferrably Harry Connick, Jr. Hello?

Let me jump right into this because Ms. Gwenyth, Paltrow, that is, I know you’ve been nervously awaiting to hear my take on you being named the most beautiful woman in the world. What a backlash. Basically, your photo has been nailed to the public wall and filled with darts and bird poop. I wouldn’t want to be you right now, even with that sweet bank account. Don’t you worry your pampered self over this at all, however. Damn if you aren’t and damn if you are the most beautiful woman in the world. Who gets to cry over that every day? That’s part of the Hollywood territory, and horror story, in your case. At least your name’s not Kim Kardashian.

And Reese Witherspoon. You were more than a notion in my neck of the woods and I simply can’t appreciate that. I think you’re one of the smartest It girls in Hollywood and you played the celebrity card while intoxicated, which leads me to think that what you said to that officer, who lays his life on the line on a daily basis, was not better than you in no shape, form or fashion. I need to re-think my relationship with you because what’s in comes out and for now, I’ve seen just about enough.

The big story of this gossiping hour is Ann Curry from the Today Show. She is singing to her friends like a battered bird and Matt Lauer is flying like a bat from the show when his contract is over next year.

Look, rich people. I truly, honest to God, stamp-my-foot-three-times-to-give-a-shout-out-to-the-Almighty-with-a-tambourine-shaking-in-my-left-hand, wish I had your problem. Ann, stop crying. You messed up sometimes. I lied in bed eating strawberries with whipped cream from the night before, watching you faithfully. Mistakes happen. You made many of them and I’m not mad at you for it. Nor do I feel sorry because you are sitting on a cool 10 mil for each year left on your contract. Yes, it was quite humiliating to get laughed at and booted out so publicly but the average person isn’t so lucky to get kicked to the curb in such a fashion. Will you even draw unemployment and fear that it’ll run out? I mean, come on, Ann.

As for you, Matt. I do believe, and it’s just my personal opinion, that you are sexy in a subtle and unassuming way. You look innocent but come on, my ole Boo. I know you aren’t. You couldn’t stand Ann, didn’t want her sitting on the couch next to you and that’s the way it is on the job sometimes. I can most certainly relate. Before my gossip business took off, while I was still working at the phone company, which got me started with dipping in everybody’s kool-ade, I could not stand a handful of people I worked with either. They were always trying to be in my business and not get paid for it, which makes absolutely no sense to me. Now, did you bully and shun Ann? Again. You’re not as innocent as you look and if I’m wrong, which I don’t think I am, Karma is going to become your friend in a most invasive way.

Listen to me, rich people. I’m not Olivia Pope, so I’m not interested in fixing your problems but like the business savvy woman I am, I’m all about getting paid for spreading the word, good, bad or indifferent, and at least trying to bring you back to the world of where the real problems are. I highly recommend that each and every one of the aforementioned visit getyourlife.com, get yourself a patch or something.

Honest and Always True,

Beatrice from Apt. 7B

Interviewing Clive and Serving the Public

Beatrice Goes Hollywood. Copyright 2013 Totsymae

Beatrice Goes Hollywood. Copyright 2013 Totsymae

You should check out my fabulosity that will soon be gracing the Oscar red carpet. But enough about how delicious I’ll look. All of that shall come in diva time. It’s time to pour you a little Hollywood juice, people. Are you thirsty?

Now, it’s come high confession time that Clive Davis enjoys the pleasures of going in women’s pocketbooks and through men’s back doors. You feel me, people? I had a brief moment to sit with Clive to make inquiry on this business he has going on in his book, The Soundtracks of My Life. And it went like this, literally:

Beatrice: Now Clive, why are you deciding to reveal your secret? Did someone ask you?

Clive: No. Nobody asked but I wanted to tell.

There you have it, people. I couldn’t get much more out of him than that but based on my assessment, Clive wasn’t interested in me. I think he likes his lovers on the thin side, based on who I’ve heard he’s been with. Just know this, people. It’s never too late to be you, whoever that may be.

On another note, I have a very important public service announcement. There are people out there called “Apple Pickers” and they are aiming to grab and run with your Apple iPhone. It’s the latest craziness out here in the world, which means you have to watch your back, side and front when you’re in public talking on your iPhone.

These Apple Pickers are selling these devices for around $300. Don’t contemplate on whether you should fight to keep it or give it up. Give the thing up. There are more at the Apple Store, okay?

That’s all the time I have to spend with you today. There’s so much competition on the red carpet, I must invest a good portion of my time on looking beautiful. I wasn’t picked for presenting an Oscar. Jennifer Aniston was, however. I hope she doesn’t wear that same blah hairstyle. Francisco Pierre does a fine job on me in his basement over in Compton whenever I can catch an Airtran flight on the low. Maybe I should turn her on to him.

 

Most Sincere About Everything Hollywood,

Beatrice from Apt. 7B

Beatrice Goes Hollywood

Beatrice Goes Hollywood. Copyright 2013 Totsymae

Beatrice Goes Hollywood. Copyright 2013 Totsymae

Do I look stunning or did Totsy do a whack job on me? Today people, you can call me Holly Wood. That’s right, I’m all about the fabulosity and I just had the driver, cab that is, drop me off at the hotel, as I’m going to The Oscars. Have you ever been? I didn’t think so. However, I’m not here to boast…much. You see, I’m trying to talk Totsy into writing me into one of her novels. Well, not write me in so much as make me the star, okay?

I have this idea that it should be a romantic comedy with a twist of mystery, set right here in Hollywood. As you well, know, I’m all about getting the Hollywood scoop to you. And what do I have for you today?

Well, you know Kim Kardashian and Kanye are pregnant. They’re looking at buying a 15,000 square foot home. So they can’t find the baby, I suppose. There’s serious talk about The Bradgelinas getting married. Don’t believe the hype, people. While this event may or may not happen, I find it really interesting that a date was set after Jennifer Aniston became engaged. Angelina is more than a notion, don’t you think? Don’t ask me what Paris Hilton is up to. She’s disappeared into the yonders, as that country Totsy would say.

Anyway. The big scoop today is the scoop Oprah got on Lance Armstrong for enhancement drugs while riding his bicycle. Well, Lance is a proud man and baffled even the queen bee, but no worries there, the IRS wants their five million dollars from Lance and the IRS on your A.S.S. will break anybody down. You see, Lance was dating Sheryl Crow some years ago and when she had that scare with breast cancer, he flew off like a care-free bird, never to come back to be a support to her but well, Lance, I hope you have all the support you weren’t willing to give. Me being a Godly woman, despite my gossiping, I wouldn’t want anything else for you.

You see, once Totsy turns me into a Hollywood star by writing me into her book, I may be tempted to cheat the government too. They want more than their fair share and well, just say I’m looking out for my future deep pockets. You feel me?

I must cut this session short today, people. I’m sitting here dressed to the nines, expecting room service and forgot I was checked into the Motel 6.

Too Legit to Quit

Rosie, O’Donnell that is, is like The Terminator, people. She won’t quit and she’s back on the air with a new talk show, co-hosting with NeNe, from The Real Housewives of Atlanta. I hope she doesn’t screw it up this time. Not that I’m crazy about you Rosie but you’re okay in a way like dessert. You’re good until I can no longer snap my pants together. In other words, you can be too much sometimes but I’m tuning in to see who you’re ranting on.

Today, she and NeNe were hosting Anderson Cooper’s show since he’s in the middle east, and made the big announcement. I’m not one to be in people’s business, no more than my job as a National Hollywood Gossip Correspondent (NHGC) allows me to be but I’m a tad curious about what happened with Oprah and Rosie. I’ve gotten word on the street but I want to hear it from one of the horses mouths. Know what I mean? We won’t harp on that sour note, however.

I do want you to boycott that reality show with Bobbie Christina and her aunt. I’m so off-put with it, I won’t even put a link here. I can’t recall the name of it exactly. Something about being on their own. A few weeks ago, I caught snatches of it and that aunt…Whitney’s manager and sister-in-law, is a slithering snake. Do you realize they were filming for that show three months after Whitney was laid to rest? And she, the aunt, has the audacity to say Bobbie Christina is still grieving and she’s concerned. Oh, really?

Now, you know Selena Gomez and Justin Bieber broke up, right? As if we were really expecting to see her walking with a train down the aisle. I mean, really. Very few relationships last in Hollywood, or on Main Street, for that matter. But it is official that Rihanna and Chris Brown are back together. They are in love, people. You can’t fight love, is all I’ll say on that but we’ll see.

And people, did you see Hammer get his groove on at 50 ontstage? He’s been through a financial war zone and is still too legit to quit.

That’s a wrap, people. I’m online shopping for my dress to wear to Jennifer Aniston’s wedding. I do believe that marriage will last and am ever so happy for her. I don’t have a wedding date set for the Bradgelinas. They keep toying with the media about marriage but as it stands to date, they’re still shacking up.

Love,

Beatrice from Apt 7B

Oprah’s Giving Who Her Own Reality Show?

“Beatrice Jones” Copyright 2012 Totsymae

So, have you heard or do I need to put out the word, that Oprah’s producing Life with LaToya on OWN. I’m so utterly beside myself, I’m cooling off as I speak in front of Totsy’s window fan. Well, she doesn’t really have one but since a good amount of southern folk do, I thought I’d say it. But to get on with my story.

I’m not sure who I should address about this, so if it appears as if I’m talking to Oprah, you and LaToya, go with it. 

First of all, I’m a gossip columnist, who cooks and solves Hollywood love/disaster mysteries. Now Oprah, wouldn’t I have made a better candidate than LaToya for a reality show? What on earth would the public find so intriguing about LaToya versus moi? You know Michael wouldn’t want her on a reality show. The brothers were already approached about a show before Michael dearly departed us and he said no. 

I, on the other hand, who have no connection to the family, other than getting the scoop, have been vying to get on OWN since its inception. No, I haven’t been watching the network because I’ve been busy and there’s no OWN in this desert where Totsy’s holding me hostage. But still, Opes. I’m good for a show. I give you all the Hollywood juice while whipping the audience up a good meal. I mean, come on Oprah. We’re almost the same size. And look at mine and LaToya’s photo. Visually speaking, who could do more for the camera? Her or moi? 

Courtesy of CNN.COM

And what on God’s green earth could you possibly have to say, LaToya? I’m imagining you texting and tweeting all day about pretty much nothing. Am I hatin’? Why, I most certainly am. It just goes to show, it’s all about who you know in this business. I bet you didn’t even let the phone come to a full ring when you saw Oprah’s name pop up. You certainly couldn’t have been busy, unless you were tweeting or texting, of course.

I need to go now, people. I feel like I’m about to be repetitive in my speech since I feel a serious rant coming on. I’m getting really hot. Plus, I’m so tired of Totsy putting this photo, illustration or whatever you want to call it, of me on this blog with no eyelashes on my left eye. That’s why Oprah picked LaToya over me. She can’t have anyone on her network with eyelashes on one eye. I mean, really. It’s all Totsy’s fault, not paying attention to details. It certainly wasn’t for a lack of my skills or abilities.

This oversight on Oprah’s part calls for a tall glass of lemonade on the veranda in my skinny-dipping suit.

A Slut with Her Hand in Your Pocketbook

“Beatrice Jones” Copyright 2012 Totsymae

Are you at all surprised John Edwards’ chick on the side has written a tell-all book? Are you? Is this not the most predictable, yet lowdown and dirty acts that’s occured this year?

Look Rielle, I don’t typically do politics. I’m a National Hollywood Gossip Correspondent (NHGC). But then there’s you. I don’t know what category to put you in. You’re not a politician, or really, a professional woman for that matter. Tell the truth, you were a struggling artist, posing as a videographer who slept your way to getting connected with the fallen senator, right? You were trying to be the next Monica Lewinsky but John tripped  on his road to the White House when he fell between your legs, right?

Oh, I’m not judging. You’re the one who’s so-called ‘written the book.’ You’re the one who’s calling my attention to how low you are; therefore, I have every right to let you know what’s on my mind. Why can’t you leave well enough alone? There won’t be a movie. That just doesn’t happen with men who don’t make it to the White House. Why don’t you go somewhere and raise your child out of the limelight? You’ve taken enough tax dollars in the hotels you slept in with John and that costly lawsuit that was brought against him. Why can’t you simply go away like Monica Lewinsky did? Don’t you realize everytime we think of her, we think of Bill’s peter in her mouth under the oval desk? How do you want us to think of you, Rielle? Why are you bothering us and killing trees with a book? We, nor the trees, deserve that.

What I want you to do, Sweetie, is to go raise your daughter somewhere that nobody’s heard of you. Give her a chance to be the decent person you aren’t. Stop ramming it down our throats that you’re a homewrecker. Yes, I know it was John’s choice to cover up the affair and do the wild thing with you but this is a woman to woman conversation and I’m talking to you, Sweetie Pie. Do you have any redeeming qualities that I can leave my readers with? Have you ever thought of anyone besides yourself? I’m not buying you grocery by purchasing your book, Rielle. Just go off and live with Johnny, as you call him, and leave us alone. We already know what really happened and realize what you’re trying to do. You’re a slut out for quick bucks and I don’t know anyone’s who is remotely interested in reading this book you’ll be trying to pimp to us, okay? I sure hope I don’t, anyway.

As for you, John. I saw your little fake interview you and Elizabeth had with Oprah before she went off the air. However did you think you could get away with it, Johnny? Do you ever sit and ponder that question or was it that what Rielle had between her legs was so worth it?

Signed,

Beatrice from Apt. 7B

Little Girl, Get Over Here So I Can Have A Sit-Down with You

In this life, you must be about the business of performing the work you were called upon to do. To be involved in anything else is time wasted. While I serve as your National Hollywood Gossip Correspondent, well, until my International License is approved, I’m also the Relationship Police. Since that says it all, I want to head right into my subjects for the day, people.

First of all, I’m truly sorry The Voice, which was Whitney Houston, has left us. I rooted for her comeback, because really, why would I not? Why would I have wanted to see her remain on a downward spiral and poke fun or play self-righteous? All of us have our demons. We all fall down but not as publicly, outside of my little mishap yesterday. Though, anyway…

I want to address you today, Little Bobbi Christina. I know you don’t know me but I’m very well aware of you. And your mother’s manager, who was surely “managing” alright. She’s the one who took the photo of your lovely mother as she lay for her last viewing. It was during the private viewing that this photo op took place, which then went on to the gossip rags. I know she’s family but she’s lowdown and dirty for what she did. Though. the bigger matter is this little relationship you’re carrying on, Little Bobbi.

You’re still a babe and need to hop a plane to Jersey to be with your grandmother. Sweetie, you don’t need to be down here in Georgia living and engaged to that young man. He’s been living as your brother and it should remain as such. I caught the interview you had with Oprah. I’m truly at peace that you’re at peace with your mother passing. That’s healthy because I know initially, it wasn’t. But Baby, what isn’t healthy is you parading all over town, hugging and sporting this 2-pound diamond. I want you to know, I’m carrying a good stock of switches should I happen upon you at some point. Both you and the boy will feel the wrath of the Lord should I be fortunate in meeting your acquaintance. As a matter of fact, I’ve been hanging out at Lenox Square Mall hoping we’d bump into one another.  Enough said, Baby  Girl. (Now braiding the switches)

And Ariana, as for the Jolies or Brads getting engaged? Well honey, all I can say is that’s more attention for the Leg Woman.

Angelina, well Sweetie, I’ve never been particularly crazy about you or your acting abilities but do your thing, if that’s what you feel is your gift to the world. Whatever. I’m just not into female action heroes, that’s all. Brad, I do want you to clean up for this wedding. Don’t let Angelina have you waiting for her at the end of the wedding aisle barefoot and wearing cutoff jeans, with your beard braided up and beads dangling from it. I can see this so clearly  and I so wish I didn’t. Honey, your mother raised you better than that. I know it’s challenging to be weird in Hollywood but be yourself and smell good at least. You don’t look like you smell too well, Baby. Other than that, I’m most appreciative of what you do. Oh, and should these nuptials actually take place, check your woman for those side splits to ensure we’re not flashed with another leg. As my good friend Totsy would say, “That’s ridamndiculous.”