I think I heard somewhere that Angelina Jolie's adopted Cambodian baby with my haircut just called Brad Pitt "daddy" in front of a big room full of interested parties, so of course I finally cut my fucking hair because I am so sick of this shit. Brad Pitt remains, to the best of my understanding, relatively not Cambodian—not to call Angelina Jolie's lucky, lucky little adopted baby a liar or anything. But we do know that he's quite cavalier about poaching concepts in hair, so who knows what game the clever little shit is playing at ultimately, really? And why precisely did he call Brad Pitt "daddy" in English and not some Cambodian baby-jabber or whatever? It's peculiar. I'm just saying.
Also: I am convinced that Jon Stewart is a Republican disinformation plant determined to subconsciously promote a sly conservative agenda to The Daily Show's über-liberal audience. "Company," probably. I don't know if it was planned that way from the beginning or if they recently threatened his life, but I'm telling you, something's heinously afoot. Mark my words. Watch. Look. See. Feel the terror. Praise the Adrian.
"Dear Adrian, Did Courtney Love rape you or something? Is that why you are so mean to her?"—Dave
Dear Dave, Yes.
In other news: Martha Stewart isn't quite free. Her "house arrest" has been extended an extra three weeks to August 31, possibly because she was caught cruising around her yard on some sort of forbidden transportation device. An ATV? A carpenter? A Hitachi Magic Wand? When asked how she felt, Stewart bellowed something unfit for a family newspaper at her sick-of-her-sprung-ass-already staff and took a bite out of her own leg. Really. A friend of mine was there.
"Adrian, I think I saw Gary Busey at the corner of Olive and Denny last night. He was driving in a beautiful red '70s Cadillac convertible, speaking on a cell phone, wildly shaking his head."—Cheers, Harrison
Dear Harrison: In case of Gary Busey sighting, remember: KEEP CALM. Maintain eye contact and back away slowly. Head to the nearest safe house and contact authorities. In case of attack: feign dead.
In more celebrity three-ways: Wonderful stories about Jimmy Fallon, Drew Barrymore, and Fabrizio Moretti "spending the night together" abound. "We played for about four hours," Fallon says, and Drew adds, "Yeah!" Speculation is broad. Like my erectness in general.
Speaking of general erectness: Michael Jackson has nothing to do with general erectness. (At least not mine.) But I hear some jurors are writing books claiming he was guilty and they were bullied into acquitting him or something. Like anyone could possibly bring him- or herself to believe that.
In final homosexuals-and-children news: Melissa Etheridge doesn't have cancer anymore, but she did just have a baby, and her being a lesbian, it's a great mystery. Boo!