Smoky Smoky

And power yoga. I did that way, way before Madonna. 1994-ish. She picked it up around '97, I think. And of course there's a celebrity curse--don't be ridiculous. Haven't you been paying attention? Something to do with Gary Coleman and a monkey's paw--hell, I don't know. But stars are dropping like roofied flies in a Spanish bathhouse. And if my projections are accurate and the vicious hand of The Curse is not stayed, there will be nothing left of célébrité save Laotian pop stars and the tarted-up human trash from Elimidate by this time next year.

And I'm famous for my projections.

I did Guy Ritchie first, too.

And in case you were wondering (and you were), no, Rosie O'Donnell hasn't lost like a zillion angry pounds and started taking her medication. That's Ellen. DeGeneres. Formerly the talking fish. Someone gave her a talk show, so I guess people give a crap again. And she's still a lesbian. Good for her. Let's see if she can keep it up.

"Dear Adrian: Do you know anything about Chris Cornell and his new 'girlfriend' Vicky Karayiannis? --Ama"

Welp, I know that Vicky is a publicist from Paris, and that she and Chris were at Pier 59 on his birthday when the drinky, drinky Bush twins (I forget their names... and the first lady's, and the vice president's. Do we have a vice president? Who are these nobodies?) had their Secret Service goons force an introduction with them. I also know who I'm not the fuck voting for next year.

And maybe since I'm still a soupçon irate that fanatics went kamikaze on Manhattan, effectively burying the story yours truly broke about the drinky, drinky Bush twins' underage debauch at a Belltown club completely (thank you very much, al Qaeda), can you guess which scorching little stud claims that at a recent party he followed the verdant odeur of billowing green straight to the Bush girls (they are female, right?), both drunker than chunky chicks on Free Chalupa Day and whaling on a mad-phat hookah crammed with chronic? Hint: He might be dipsticking Demi Moore at this moment, and his name might rhyme with Ashton Kutcher.

And speaking of all that junk, Demi Moore was caught smoking (cigarettes, gag) like some two-bit gutterslag--and not the lucky, lucky woman going steady with the second or third hottest guy springing to mind at the moment--immediately following her speech to the Entertainment Industry Foundation's Women's Cancer Research Fund, and, well... nobody likes smoky, smoky hypocrites who are sure to lose their boyish good looks any second to toxic tar buildup, now do they?

I'm here for you, Ashton.