January 17, 2008
· Filed under Celebs, Trends
Looking for the hottest spot in Hollywood? Here are a couple of hints: there are no velvet ropes and no red carpet…just IVs and a red cross. It’s Cedars-Sinai and it’s THE place to be seen if you’re anybody in Hollywood. This uber-popular hangout’s VIP list has seen Marilyn Monroe, Julia Roberts, Madonna and Lindsay Lohan. It’s where Christina pulled a recent all-nighter with hubby Jordan Bratman and a new babe named Max, Dennis Quaid went on a rampage thanks to a couple of drugged-out twins and Britney arriving in style thanks to a chauffeured SUV and some flashing lights-drew quite a crowd.
Never has there been a more mystifying Hollywood locale. At any one point the guest list could include friends, enemies, exes or lovers, but regardless of the similarities or differences, everyone comes out rejuvenated. Open 24-hours, Cedars has a strict no paparazzi policy, making it a comfortable setting for privacy-hungry celebs. Plus, each of the private rooms offers an on-call staff, all the drugs your system can handle, room service and custom designed floral arrangements.
While most LA clubs invite only the upper crust of the A-list Hollywood elite, Cedars takes a refreshingly open stance when it comes to its door policy: Anyone can get in! You don’t have to have a Rodeo Drive wardrobe, your own IMDB page or have logged any amount of time in Promises. There’s absolutely no age requirement (ahem, Harlow Winter Kate Madden). In fact, the only downside might be the outrageous prices. Just ask Zac Efron who gave up his appendix to get in.
January 16, 2008
· Filed under Trends
Let’s face it: radio friendly music in heavy rotation sucks. Hearing the same crap over and over again is just as mind-numbing as seeing Owen Wilson in that same damn pair of Hawaiian print board shorts every time he’s on the beach. (You’re an effing millionaire, dude, buy some new trunks!) Songs we liked become songs we hate. Songs we hated become songs that make us want to jab our eyes out with the sharp corner of a postage stamp.
But every now and then, something comes along to change our minds. To make us look at radio airplay a little differently. It’s called “the power of television.” And you can harness it to make a wicked party shuffle mix on your iPod. Think about it: no matter how many times you hear that horrible Paula Cole song on the radio and no matter how badly you want it out of your aural universe, you can’t turn it off. Why? Because it will forever remind you of the throbbing sexual tension between Joey and Dawson. You might hate that lame ole Gavin Degraw, but when “I Don’t Wanna Be” comes on the radio, you smile to yourself at the mental image of Chad Michael “Lucas Scott” Murray bouncing his basketball across a bridge in Tree Hill.
Recently, we at ATM found ourselves in a similar pickle. That ridiculous One Republic and Timbaland song “Apologize” was wreaking havoc on our car radio dial. Seriously, do all the major radio conglomerates have stock in that band or something? It’s on more than one station at the same time, for crying out loud! The band none of us have ever heard of echoes in our minds with their silly grammatical article-less “it’s too late to POLOGIZE…it’s too late.” And to be honest, even before it was heavily overplayed, we never liked it in the first place!
But then came the moment that changed our minds. After weeks of denying him of her virginal flower (and only one week after giving it up to the deplorable Chuck Bass…eww!) Gossip Girl’s Blair Waldorf finally gave in to her desires (and guilty conscience) and let her boyfriend Nate have his way with her. Their way-too-hot-for-afterschool romp was dramatically set to, what else, “Apologize.” But suddenly, the song took on a whole new naughty prep school flair. Gone was the annoying whine of a band we’ve never heard of. Enter: the hottest song EVER! Now we can’t get enough of this musical gem! Bring it on Clear Channel! Add it to even more of your rotation Cumulus! We heart it like Blair hearts her trademark headband!
So remember, the hated songs of today could be your favorite songs of tomorrow. All that stands between you and musical bliss is a few solid minutes of trashy television and an open mind.
January 15, 2008
· Filed under Celebs, Trends
Are you thinking about leaving your dead-end job? Don’t worry, you’re not alone. Britney’s lawyers did it. The writers are doing it. So, before your boss gives you the boot like the Backstreet Boys got from Jive, why not try a career change? And what career is more noble than teaching?
Can’t stand little kids? Think there’s no hell worse than listening to a rugrat sound out words while reading ‘Cat in the Hat’? Do the words, “I need to go number 2?” make you shudder? Before you answer, consider how those annoying little words would sound coming out of Violet Affleck’s mouth. Or maybe Kingston Rosdale’s. Not so annoying now, right?
With so many celebrities popping out up-and-coming mini-stars, now is the perfect time to seek out a career in education. Think about: a teaching degree takes about four years. If you start now, you’ll be an honest to goodness teacher right about the same time Hollywood’s In-Diapers Crowd makes it to first grade. Just be sure to get certified in California so you can teach in their zip code.
There’s nothing more rewarding than being a teacher. Imagine the satisfaction that comes with from teaching Shiloh to make friends. Or how exciting it would be to open Suri’s eyes to new ideas. Or to open Dannilynn’s eyes at all. What if you were the one to teach Jayden James that the next time he rides in an ambulance, it could be as a paramedic and not as the victim.
And if you think summers off are the only perk, think again. Imagine all the thank you’s you’ll receive during your pupils’ parents’ interviews on Inside The Actor’s studio, the parent-teacher conferences resulting in appearances at movie premieres, invitations from E! to shed insight into the early years of the starlets lives, and enough gossip to sell to Star Magazine and fund your own mansion in the Hollywood Hills (the pics of Max and Harlow’s budding romance aren’t going to take themselves). Plus, give the kids A’s and the only B’s and C’s you’ll be seeing are Birkin and Cartier.
January 14, 2008
· Filed under Celebs
With a new crop of trend-setting, Concord-hopping, US Weekly cover model rugrats coming into the world this week, we at ATM got to thinking about some of those less desirable, less-publicized tots. While not all of them are still wearing diapers, each one has his or her own crap to deal with. Though born to some of Hollywood’s brightest superstars, these kids never made headlines. Hell, they barely made the birth announcements. So while US Weekly is busy contracting million dollar deals for exclusive pics of the newest Spears spawn, we thought we’d take a moment to remember those who might actually have to go to college, get a job, and do time for their DUIs later in life.
Kori and Kaleb Federline
Remember a few years back when we all thought Kevin Federline was such a douche? There he was with a beautiful baby daughter and another kid on the way, and he left his baby mama for Britney Spears! Wow, there could never be a worse parent, right? Or so we thought. Turns out, K-Fed’s Father of the Year and Brit Brit’s one crazy mama! And while little brothers Sean Preston and Jayden James get their faces plastered all over magazines and TV news outlets, Kori and Kaleb are left to fend for themselves in a world that’s forgotten they exist. Sure, SP and JJ aren’t growing up to become anything greater than a busboy and a gas station attendant, but at least people know their names. And that comes in handy when you’re asking for a full bottle of ketchup or the change from your Plinko ticket.
Apple and Moses Martin
I know what you’re thinking: who the hell is Moses Martin? He’s Gwenyth Paltrow and Chris Martin’s son. Remember? She had Apple and we all freaked that our favorite 21st century Grace Kelly would name her kid after a piece of fruit, and then she got pregnant again. (Which was hard to tell since the woman miraculously never gained an ounce of weight. I guess an Apple a day does keep the…ok, I won’t go there.) Anyhoo, then she had the boy and we all waited with baited breath to see what kind of crazy name she would give it. Would it be another food? Maybe a vegetable? Carrot Martin? Squash Martin? Broccoflower Martin? And then she left us all bored to tears when she named the thing Moses. All that said, can you tell me what those kids look like? Didn’t think so. Thus proving that kids-like their parents-can go from A-list to blacklisted in as much time as it takes you to say “broccoflower.” Come to think of it, I can’t remember the last movie Paltrow made. Or the last time I gave a crap about Coldplay.
Connor and Isabella Cruise
Close your eyes. Think back. Way back. Before K-Fed left his baby mama. Yeah, that far. Remember a time when Nicole Kidman looked like the approachable spiral curly-haired girl next door. When Tom Cruise set hearts a-flutter and ruled the box office, all with his not-at-all creepy smile. Mr. and Mrs. Cruise the first had trouble conceiving and we all watched in sadness as they struggled to make a family. Then, the triumphant (and trend-setting) news: they would adopt. Not once, but twice, the Cruises brought less fortunate children into their home and made them their own. The kids were carefully shielded from the media, but we knew they were around somewhere. We slept soundly, knowing the Cruise Clan-Round 1-would be together forever. Woops. Turns out Tom Cruise is kind of a weirdo. And Nicole’s pretty much an ice queen. And after ten years of wedded something, they called it off. There wasn’t much of a custody battle, because as it turns out, the Cruises care about their kids about as much as the rest of us did. Now entering their late 30’s, Connor and Isabella make as much of a media splash as they ever did. (No? They’re not that old? Whatever.) Only now it’s less because of their sheltered upbringing and more because that Suri’s so damn cute! Why would we want to see those pubescent nobodies?
January 11, 2008
· Filed under Trends, special events
Ahh, 2008. A new year. A fresh beginning. It still has that new car smell. A whole 365 days of celeb gossip to dish, new TV series to get hooked on (The Real Housewives of New York, anyone?) and up-and-coming beefcakes to scout out and drool over (someone’s gotta dethrone that damn Zack Efron!).
You’re already doing all you can to keep up those New Year’s resolutions: a strong internet connection with Perezhilton.com bookmarked? Check. A brand new subscription to US Weekly? Check. A recently deleted Tivo ready to record every moment of the second half of Awards Season? Check. Being privy to inside celeb gossip, knowing the hottest hair styles for summer, and who wore what on the red carpet will assure that you’re the go-to girl for all the is trendy. Who cares that your horoscope said, “your love life will take a new direction and your waistline will succumb to temptation,” you’ve forged your own path for a GREAT 2008.
That was until the writers went on strike, the celebs rallied the cause, and NBC had no choice but to cancel the Golden Globes, rendering your empty Tivo useless, blogs ten times less interesting, and the ABS rack at Bloomies completely empty (no designer gowns on the red carpet means the man has nothing to knock off this season)! How will you know what color to wear, hair styles to avoid, and which Hollywood hottie to worship?
More important than being nominated and in the company of great talent, we all know the real honor for any celeb is being named Best Dressed. For us, on the other hand, our reward is knowing what’s in and what’s out based on the fashion risks of the Hollywood famous. Resse Witherspoon made pockets in dresses a must have and Johnny Depp made your boyfriend’s reluctance to shave socially acceptable. Jessica Alba motivated us to work out and Mary Kate inspired us to ALWAYS look in the mirror before leaving the house.
Now when we flip on the TV, open a magazine, or click over to a website we won’t learn of the newest up and coming designer, know how to outshine the other girls at prom, which dog is trendy (or if they’re trendy at all), and what qualities to look for in a guy. Without writers and celebs, we’ll think the Walmart commercials really do define fashion, have a crush on that guy from season 5 of the Real World (who will totally kick Coral’s ass in the new Gauntlet), and think that Britney’s weave isn’t so bad.
All we can do is wait for the Oscars. And pray they don’t meet the same fate.
