Columns

Celebrity I Saw U

by Adrian Ryan

I know that together we can find the strength to bear the sad fact that my terrible brush of opinion has recently painted the mal-flattering adjectifs "waxy," "old," and "grandpa-ish" upon MTV's John Norris only because I was, in fact, clearly confusing John with the truly waxy Kurt Loder. Whoops. (John's the guy with the tooth gap Evel Knievel couldn't jump; Kurt is the glossy borderline geriatric.) I sincerely apologize for the error, from the bottom of my yin, yang, and wazoo respectively. To John. Or Kurt, maybe. I'm a little confused right now. (Special thanks to my good friend Mary Jane, from Canada. Or Mexico. Depending, of course.)

Somebody told me that Elijah Wood was so darn repulsed by the sight of his own gnawed and mangled fingernails in The Lord of the Rings III or whatever that he's sworn to just flat out stop biting them, darn it. As a highly successful ex-nail-biter, I'd like to recommend regular blowjobs from Joseph Dervin after Mrs. Groesbeck's 5th-period concert choir as a useful distraction. Trust me.

And yes. I said fucking choir. Shut up.

And if you think I'd dream of wasting time talking about Britney Spears' farcical 10-second marriage to whomever that guy was, well.

Conan O'Brien said something intriguing like "...let me guess, they didn't believe you, right?" from the sidewalk in front of Les Amis in Fremont recently to whomever was on the other end of his cell phone (O'Brien looked "perplexed or pissed," for the record), which may or may not have a single thing in the world to do with Leslie Miller being spotted at the airport, deplaning ever so earlessly onto concourse C. We may never get to the bottom of it.

Speaking of bottoms: I've been ignoring reports that Justin Timberlake is supposedly "taking the year off" to do vague and probably gay "other stuff," which reminds me: Before we forget Britney entirely (tick tock, tick tock), I hear she got so engorged with Cristal (again) that she had to be dragged belching and heaving from a popular L.A. club (again!) on New Year's, adding yet another bombed-n-whorish tale of Britney behaving in a most Courtney Love-like fashion to the ever-growing pile of such stories, making it harder and harder for me to continue not liking her.

And no, I didn't really just say that.

Finally, Pink sent a rude fax (for Christ's sake) to Siegfried & Roy (for Christ's sake!), begging them to set their elephant free--which is just so painfully weird on so many levels that I can hardly be expected to expand upon the issue. I'm sure you understand.

adrian@thestranger.com