Fortunately, Jessica Simpson’s been more circumspect about her pregnancy. First, she kept mum on the matter, letting the gossip mags speculate on the cause of her growing girth. Then on Halloween she decided to be mum no more, showing off her bulging baby bump in a mummy costume. Get it? Get it? Yeah, it was pretty bad.

But it’s not just female celebrities breeding like rabbits right now. Nope, back in the news is perennial papa, Mel Gibson, who’s been slapped with a paternity suit by some reality TV bimbo. And just think: the ink isn’t even dry on the judge’s order in Mel’s last paternity/custody lawsuit!

Now, when you give it some thought, the real surprise isn’t that Beyoncé’s baby will be spoiled, that Jessica Simpson’s packing on pounds, or that Mel Gibson can’t keep it in his pants. No, the true surprise is that Kim Kardashian hasn’t jumped all over this celebrity breeding stuff. Then again, a baby requires a lot more than a 72-day commitment.

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Of all the celebrities currently stinking up the headlines, I wouldn’t mind being Kim Kardashian right about now. Oh, sure, I know the Twitterverse is abuzz with outrage over the obvious sham of her 72-day marriage. But who else could turn a marriage that was shorter than the average Sea Monkey’s life into a topic more hotly discussed than the Herman Cain’s smarmy past, the Occupy Wherever protests, whether Conrad Murray killed Michael Jackson, and how Lindsay Lohan is going to get off easy yet again… combined?!

Thanks to Kim, we even have a new measurement of time: the “Kardashian”. Basically, it’s a unit of 72 days of marriage. As in, I’ve been married to VH for 67.67 Kardashians. How about you?

As for Kim’s side of the story, she’s blaming her divorce on “intuition”, saying that she’s just following her heart. Why the hell she didn’t do that before that $10 million wedding (roughly $133,000 per day of marriage) is unclear, but I suggest her intuition was buried the same place her head is.

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Unfortunately, most of you Facebook-loving bastards won’t click thru and comment here. Otherwise I’d ask you to leave a comment explaining to Sheen why his Adonis DNA and Tiger Blood could use a little Venom.

Instead, I’ll just pick up my copy of Howl and enjoy the show. As should you!

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Yeah, we’re not shallow or anything.

Of her new hairdo, Jennifer Aniston is clearly relieved she’s no longer associated with the ‘Rachel’ hairdo, which she told Allure magazine in February was “the ugliest haircut I’ve ever seen”. Meanwhile, the tens of thousands of us who wore our hair in the ‘Rachel’ in the mid-90s can take comfort by noticing how Jen’s new hair makes her look shockingly like Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen’s older sister (or mom).

As for Justin Bieber’s new haircut, which he says was inspired by Ellen DeGeneres’ cropped ‘do? He didn’t just go under the scissors to rid himself of that wretched comb-over look. Nope, he did it for charity.

“I’m giving pieces of it to different people,” he explained. “The thing is, we’re doing something special. We want you to donate it to whatever charity you want.”

See, that’s the difference between the U.S. and North Africa or the Middle East. There, the poor organize marches and protests against their governments even as their leaders turn armies against them. Here, the richest among us help the poor by donating their the floor-sweepings after their latest $750 haircut.

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Next time you’re looking for an aging, overweight, snarky and embittered loudmouth with questionable notoriety to host the Golden Globes, please drop me a line. I’m much more reasonably priced than Ricky Gervais (will work for booze!) and chances are my calendar’s clear that night.

Smooches,
VK

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Even before this morning, I’d considered this quite possibly the most annoying song ever. Yep, even more annoying than this song. Now that it’s been going through my head non-stop for three freaking hours? Now I am absolutely, 100% positive it is THE MOST ANNOYING SONG EVER!

Unless you can think of one that’s even more annoying? Leave your nominations in the comments. Who knows, maybe we’ll come up with a song list worthy of its own K-Tel release.

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No, this time we’re reading about how Lindsay Lohan is a free woman again after serving jail time followed by mandatory in-patient drug rehab for violating the terms of her 2007 DUI conviction. An incident, by the way, which also involved a charge of cocaine possession that Lindsay swore wasn’t hers. That charge was later dismissed because her “her friend’s” dealer stepped on her stuff so heavily it didn’t legally qualify as cocaine.

Of course, Paris Hilton didn’t get quite so lucky when the Vegas police nabbed her for possession this weekend. Like all things “Hilton”, her stuff was the good stuff… but, like Lindsay (and countless teenagers before her), she swears it wasn’t hers. Uh-huh.

So let us examine Exhibit One, in which we have Paris Hilton swooning over a hamburger which, were it held the normal way, would dwarf her thigh:

There's a reason she's not holding that burger horizontally.

And Britney, whose own stint in drug rehab seems to have actually worked? She’s been walking tall on the set of Glee and, if rumors are to be believed, might actually be walking down the aisle sometime next year. The only hold up? That pesky ol’ conservatorship that still lets her father call all of the shots in her life. Then again, that might be why Britney’s the only one who seems to be, well, growing up. (And, no, I’m not talking about a father like Lindsay’s who wants to open his own drug rehab then make her his first official patient.)

Seriously, folks, what is this world coming to when Britney Spears is the one who sounds sane???

End times, people. Jus’ sayin’. End times.

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I don’t know what your regional background is, but my mother comes from Texas, where a lady doesn’t even walk to the mailbox without a little lipstick, and God forbid someone unexpectedly drops by and catches you without the stuff! To prevent this from ever happening, my mother used to hide tubes of lipstick all over the house: in the kitchen utensil drawer, behind the spare guest towels in the bathroom, in the magazine rack in our family room.

When I was in college my mother shipped me a box of piano music from when I’d taken lessons as a young child. She needed to clear out belongings in preparation for her move to a small townhouse. Guess what I found among the papers? Yep, a tube of Revlon’s “Fire and Ice” lipstick.

So it’s probably not surprising that I, too, grew up into a woman who’d rather undergo an anesthesia-free root canal than be seen without makeup. When I was dating in my 20s I seldom spent the night at a guy’s house because I didn’t want to be seen without makeup in the morning. On the rare occasions when I did stay over I’d hop out of bed in the middle of the night, reapply my makeup, brush my teeth, comb my hair and slide back into bed where I’d late wake up pretending that, yes, I always look that fresh, thank you.

I don’t think my husband saw me without makeup until we’d been married a full year. To his credit, he didn’t run screaming, though if I recall correctly he did ask if I was feeling sick. He didn’t see me without makeup again until I was in the 11th hour of labor as I struggled to give birth to a 9+ pound baby whose head was only slightly smaller then than it is now. At that point, I didn’t give a damn what I looked like.

In the years since, I’ve definitely grown used to going barefaced. Most days I don’t bother with it at all, as a matter of fact. Oh, I’ll still put a little on if I’m going to the grocery store — just enough to keep people from wondering if I’m sick. Nights out with friends entails quite a bit more. But otherwise? Well, that’s one of the great things about being married and mid-40s: I no longer have to care if anyone besides my husband finds me attractive.

Still… barefaced on national television? IN HDTV????

No wonder Kathy and Hoda were drinking Bloody Marys!

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News flash: celebrities, like the rest of us, probably had other plans for how they were going to spend their Friday night and, being celebrities, they probably made their plans far more in advance than the rest of us. So the very fact they canceled said plans — and whatever money-making was involved — is still more than the average TV viewer, sitting at home on a Friday night shoveling Munch-os into their mouth, did to help Haiti.

Meanwhile, here are a few of the names and the numbers: George Clooney, $1 million. Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie matched him with $1 million of their own. Madonna pledged $250,000. Leonardo di Caprio‘s giving $1 million, too. Supermodel Gisele Bundchen wrote a check for a cool $1.5 million. And, although there are probably plenty others, perhaps some celebrities just don’t think it’s anyone’s business what amount they give. Kind of like some non-celebrities I know.

But, naturally, the nattering nabobs are now whining that million dollars is a drop in the bank to someone like George Clooney. Then they pat themselves on the back for having taken a break from Facebook to donate $10 by text messaging the word ‘Haiti’ to 90999 on their cell phones. Because, you know, apparently that ten dollars combined with the interruption of their annoying Facebook status updates (“I just ate cereal!” “My kid just sneezed on my monitor!” “It’s cold and rainy here!”) deserves SO much more recognition.

And the worst part — the really, terribly annoying worst freaking possible part — is this grousing about celebrities not donating enough, or that their appearances were self-serving, is coming from REPUBLICANS who have just spent the past several days complaining about DEMOCRATS telling people how to spend their money.

Hypocrites, all.

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