Do celebrities really die in clusters of three? It's a popular urban myth, and it does lend itself to the notion that God, really, is the ultimate gossip columnist. "Blind item: what celebrity arrived at the pearly gates with two pet poodles ... and his pool boy?" I have some sobering news for you people. Celebrities don't die in threes; celebrities just die, period.

Except this past weekend, where the Rule Of Three applied almost comically. First off the mortal coil was Gene Rayburn, surly game show host ("How surly was he?") best known for guiding the comic antics of Nipsey Russell, Betty White and Charles Nelson Reilly on "Match Game." As I was virtually nursed on the teat of 70s television, his demise came as a devastating blow. (As a child, my occupation of choice was game show host, followed by furrier, then gossip columnist. You should have seen Career Day in my school!) Rayburn, followed by Wink Martindale, Monty Hall and, obvo, Bob Barker, were my earlier, greatest influences, which explains my obsession with pencil-thin microphones, plaid leisure suits, and shouting the phrase, "That's correct!"

Next up (down?) was old-school comic schuckster, Joey Adams, husband of legendary gossip columnist, Cindy Adams (whose column, in recent years, has become the laughingstock of the gossip community). Joey also had a column in The New York Post, and, curiously, I thought that he had already died and that they were rerunning old "classics." No, readers, it seems that this old-fashioned comic thought that jokes like, "He was so careful in doing his taxes that he found change in the couch and asked the manufacturer for a W2 form!" were actually funny. What an old coot! Farewell, dear Joey; keep the angels in stitches!

The third -- and in every way most tragic -- was the sad news of Madeline Kahn's death from cancer. Kahn, indisputably one of the funniest women of the 1970s, was a glamorous, dramatic star of the highest caliber and starred in such classics as "What's Up Doc?," "Paper Moon," and "Young Frankenstein." She was last heard in the Disney film, "A Bug's Life" (the DVD of which, for some reason, you get for free when you buy an iMac; isn't that weird?) Cancer seems to be targeting the great ladies of comedy such as Gilda Radner and Julia Sweeney (who, fortunately, escaped Death's scythe to make a book and a play and a film about it). I was so saddened by Maddie's loss that I rewatched "Blazing Saddles" and drank to her memory... all weekend!

Metamorphosis

Another Countess Von Schtupp to whom I have drank many times -- Madonna -- is getting rather obsessed with looking and feeling good, but at least she's doing it naturally. What's more she's doing it with that other one-named 80s legend, Sting. Sunday, while I was hung over from mourning Maddie Kahn, the other Maddie was folding herself upon the floor of Sting's Central Park West apartment. The two did yoga together and, I speculate, had a good laugh or two over some International Coffees and maybe a cruller or two. Obviously, the peaceful workout put them in tune with the universe, because later the duo, along with Sting's wife Trudie Styler, lady Lourdes, and their Sting spawn, flew to the Museum of Natural History to explore the pretty new Butterfly Conservatory. While admiring the flying kaleidoscopic insects, the three stars and tots were accosted by paparazzi who, I suppose, were just passing through. After a few flashbulbs -- which cannot have been healthy for the museum's rare creatures -- Madonna snapped her fingers and the security guards helped the photographers out (or maybe took them to the mineral wing of the museum; it's horribly underpublicized).

Hanks, But No Hanks

I really know Trudie Styler only through her associations with Sting, and I can say almost the same thing about Rita Wilson and her connection to her husband, Tom Hanks. Of course, Wilson has made some high-profile movies of her own, but outside "When Harry Met Sally," I can't really name them. But does that give her reason to pull some diva routine? Apparently, the director of the L.A. play "Dinner Party," was just not having her when he not-so-politely asked her to leave the cast, which also includes Henry Winkler and John Ritter (a real A-list, I see). Though that cliché of entertainment clichés -- "creative differences" -- was offered as a reason, the director Gordon Davidson proclaimed that the actress "disagreed with the nature of the rewrites." Did her part get too small or become too emotionally challenging for her? Who knows, perhaps the rewrites stunk. Only Tom Hanks really knows...

Baby Talk

Over tea and crumpets last week, Emma Thompson politely popped out a baby girl, her first offspring with her stud man, Greg Wise. Reports from the Thompson camp claim, using her irritable dry wit, that the babe is being called "jane.com" at the moment, which is probably making Jane Pratt quite perturbed. Before relieving herself of her burden, Emma claimed she would name the child Clementine, another horrid moniker. I'm assuming all names but Helena are currently in the running.

The plucky star also claimed that she had few if any difficulties: "No morning sickness or anything." I wouldn't be surprised if the child was actually incubated somewhere else and brought in for the "final shot." How can there be no difficulties in producing another human body within your own? Must be a trick she picked up in "Junior."

G-Mail

Here are some truly saucy star sightings sent to me by you, my worldclass readership ...

"Sean Penn was here in San Francisco at the 80th anniversary party for Tosca's (if I remember correctly, there was quite a bit of liquor involved that evening) where he was imbibing more than just the free antipasti and wine. Seems some old habits really are hard to break. Also, all the Coppolas were there (except Nick) as was Carrie Fisher ..."

Critics are penning raves for Sean for his performance in Woody Allen's latest film, "Sweet And Lowdown." Is it too early to talk Oscar buzz? 'Cause if it ain't, Sean's some sorta horny bee. Who else will get a nod for Best Actor, you ask? Tom Hanks ("The Green Mile"), Denzel Washington ("The Hurricane"), Richard Farnsworth (the old guy from "The Straight Story"), and Bruce Willis ("The Sixth Sense"). That's right, no Jim Carrey for "Man In The Moon." Trust me when I tell you; I know. Check back here around Valentines Day -- near the announcement of the Oscars -- and see if I'm eating my hat.

"I met Billy (in real life, Gil Bellows) from Ally McBeal. He is cute and, better yet, sweet and easy to talk to. He and his wife and their baby visited [Vancouver] for Thanksgiving. He has blond hair for the show, which gets on my nerves and is way overboard."

Why anyone in his right mind would take somebody as tangy as Gil and give him such a horrible haircut/color is beyond my reckoning. We should place him, Keri Russell (who looks positively Sandy Duncan), and Jenna Elfman (whose 70s look would be cool if it weren't so obnoxiously 70s) in a barber's chair and let God sort 'em out!

"Gregoire, I was shocked to hear on MTV's Total Request Live last night that Britney Spears and Prince William could possibly be hooking up!!! John Norris said that Britney sent Prince William a signed CD and in return he sent her an invitation to the palace!!!"

Yes that was the rumor!!! But don't believe everything you hear!!!

Excuse me. Anyhoo, Prince Billy has already been imbroiled in one well-publicized sex scandal, involving an older woman who claimed to have taken the young man's virginity. There will never, ever, ever be a Britney/Billy hookup because the crown hates trashy lower-class women (remember the stink about Diana), and Britney, who may not actually be trashy or lower class, certainly looks the part. Besides, there's obviously only one person on this earth in her teens who can date a boy prince, the only teen who's so regal and erudite that's she's actually played a princess. Hello, Natalie Portman!

"Saw Newt Gingrich on the Red Line Metro direction Shady Grove at about 10:30 am. That's not strange, because people see him in the Metro all the time. The deal was, when he got off at Farragut North, he didn't have enough for the fare to exit the station, so he cashed in on his "celebrity" with the Station Manager and got out for free."

I endorse Newt's usage of power to obtain free rides on the DC subway line. Readers, if you're not familiar with this transportation service, you pay based on your destination. When you're trying to cash in your flailing political career, who has time to calculate?

"Gregoire, I stood in line behind Clint Eastwood at the supermarket a week or so ago. WOW, is he yummy. He purchased seven boxes of tomato stuff (fancy shmancy Italian tomato stuff); what do you think he was making? Or maybe doing?"

I'm sorry, dear, did you call Clint Eastwood yummy? Sorry, love, but I think he looks like a pile of old dry sticks! I do know of the old man's culinary hobbies and have actually heard he's an outstanding cook. (Can't stand to close to the stove, though. Old sticks are flammable!) I find it rather interesting that he wasn't using his friend Paul Newman's spaghetti sauce, though I doubt even Paul uses it. I'll bet Joanne doesn't even let it in the house!

Until Prince Billy invites me to the palace,
Gregoire

Back to Main G-Spot | Next Date

[breakupgirl.net]
advice | comics | animation | personals | play
gossip | to do | guest | list | about us

Breakup Girl created by Lynn Harris & Chris Kalb
©2003 Just Friends Productions, Inc.