The Goss-ling

I had great intentions of posting on the Met Gala on Tuesday since it happened three nights ago, but then thought to myself “Why not be different? How predictable to do things in a timely fashion! Let the Internet swell with Met Gala overload, have everyone sleep on it and then come back to it and make MAGIC with the leftover scraps.”

Um, no. That was a pack of lies! I spent the interim in a mild rage over moving every last bit of junk out of my little apartment, which took way longer than expected. And was the most tedious experience of life. However it was also very cathartic and reaffirmed my decision to move with nothing that can’t fit in 2 suitcases (read: half my clothes and a hair straightener) because I now officially loathe STUFF. Balls and chains, all of it!!! (I’m still reeling - in a few days, I’ll completely abandon this realization and buy an eighth pair of Havaiianas.) So posting took a backseat to my attempts at warding off a mild heart attack.

But now I’ve officially handed the cocoon over to its new owner (wut up, Kyle from Winnipeg) and am ready to hunt down pictures of celebs in cracked out couture. If you’re not familiar with the Met Gala, it’s actually the “Met Costume Institute Gala” held annually by Vogue as a celebration of fashion. Not fashion as you and I know it, but “FAW-SHUN, DAAAAAHLING”. Runway shizz. Emphasis on drama, structure, statement, you get the drift. So showing up looking mad weird is usually met with a thumbs up (if done correctly - so NOT Demi Moore’s version. Stay tuned.) while showing up in a pretty dress looking sweet as pie gets the same disapproval that fashion people have of real-life pie. Basically we take the whole thing in through Cate Blanchett glasses: rock a work of art. The weirdest thing you can pull off. Be it totally impractical or so-ugly-that-it’s-awesome (the basset hound theory), this is the event where you can go balls out. So the question is, DID THEY?

SPOILER ALERT: no! It was a parade of flesh tones and prom dresses. Sadness. But there were a few hideous gems thrown in the mix along with some really beautiful creations. So now that I’ve rattled on for a good four paragraphs, let’s get to it.

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Fergie channeling the Bride of Frankenstein. Bride, because what the eff else does a gown made entirely of GAUDY WHITE LACE conjure up images of? And Frankenstein because her face is so jacked at this point that at least half of it is made up of parts from other sources (made in a lab or harvested from her own ass. Oops, my bad - her lady humps.) It’s Marchesa, which loves itself some beading, appliques and general bells and whistles. The odd time it works and some beautiful architectural piece comes out of it, but more often than not their stuff looks like something an overzealous skating mom with a Fabricland members card would make for her daughter’s “future Olympics” costume. As she lives vicariously through her. On a meth binge. What I’m saying is: this is terrible.

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Diane Kruger (with Joshua Jackson, representing adorable Canadians everywhere) in Jason Wu, I think? They are a joy of aesthetics wherever they go (check her out at Coachella in an outfit I desperately want. Hot Waldo!) and this is no different. That dress is gorgeous. But I can snap myself out from under the spell of their combined ridiculous good looks to say I’m not totally thrilled by it. It’s just not that interesting, and Diane is a “fashion girl”, loved by the crusty fashion peeps and usually stepping out in something very chic and artsy fartsy. So I expected her to show up knocking it out of the park in some sort of feathered headdress with a pearl-encrusted breastplate and a garter belt made of unicorn tails. While making it look like the most beautiful thing on the planet, as she does. But she just took a pretty dress and made it prettier by being so damn pretty. Alright, I’m under the spell again. Cue the drool cup.

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Taylor Swift delivers! What a surprising twist! It’s all relative, of course - T. Swift (or Rainbow Sparklecakes, as I like to call her) is the reigning champion of saccharine pretty frou-frou bridesmaid style. Eighty-five percent of the time she shows up with carefully sculpted ringlets in something a) pastel b) chiffon c) matchy-matchy or d) all of the above. Which is fine because she’s a country princess, 21 going on 14 and it’s all part of the package. But then she rolls up in vampy dark lips and a tattered yellowing table cloth covered in black mold! Which makes me sound like I hate it, but I’m actually very pleased. It’s not the greatest thing to look at but it’s a little dark and interesting and not blush pink with rosettes…on Taylor Swift. Nice work, Sparkles.

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Liv Tyler only, and will always, bring to mind Empire Records. Was she in anything else besides that terrible Jersey BLEH! movie with Ben Affleck? (I don’t want to bring up Armageddon because I’ll have that song stuck in my head for the rest of the day, triggering memories of awkward grade seven slow dancing…DAMMIT!) Seriously, she is a beauty. What a great face. And I freaking LOVE this dress - the cut, the feathers, the white-to-yellow ombre, which makes me think this a theme gown. “Chicken or the Egg: THE DRESS”. It’s totally weird yet still manages to have a sophisticated silhouette, and a little hard boiled clutch to go with it. Against a paprika carpet! Someone was thinking…and hungry.

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Continuing on the middle-parted brunette train, here comes good ol’ Demi Moore making me absolutely cringe with her copious amounts of TRY. A fascinator - how kooky! Ah yes, the Royal Wedding! Except that it’s over and an homage after the fact seems less like a quirky salute and more like “I really wanted an excuse to wear a fascinator and draw lots of attention to myself but I didn’t have a chance until now so I’m gonna milk this to the last drop.” It’s just so misplaced. Maybe, MAYBE someone with a lot of steeze could pull it off, like Charlize Theron. But it’s Demi Moore, with her frozen face and overworked body and posting bikini pictures on Twitter (which is lame enough for a 20-something but she’s 48! Can’t you just know that you’re hot and not ask the Internet for approval?) and doing trite, ill-informed campaigns against child slavery that trivialize the issue in favour of making her and Ashton look “funny and cool”. It’s just more TRY on top of a solid foundation of try-hard. Go away, please. And once you’re there, don’t tweet about it for at least 8 minutes. Godspeed.

PS. Their foundation is called DNA as in “The Demi N Ashton Foundation”. UGH.

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Ginnifer Goodwin of Big Love and He’s Just Not That Into You and the like. Also a movie coming out with Kate Hudson called Something Borrowed that I might rent On Demand on a hungover Sunday afternoon, and only then. I have a soft spot for people with tiny elfin features that can pull off androgynous haircuts - she’s adorable. And this whole look is the shizz! The dress is Topshop, a sick UK company that recently launched in New York (expand please! Soon!). Complemented by serious shoe porn and, if you look close enough, awesome makeup that ties the whole thing together. In a sea of nudes (which sounds like a classy euphemism for the Playboy Mansion grotto) a colour palette of teal, purple and electric blue is a like…well, let’s stick with this analogy and say it’s like finding a brunette Playmate who’s read a book other than Twilight and never once modeled at a car show: a welcome refreshment!

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Blake Lively in Chanel of course, because she’s their new “face”. Which they’re getting a lot of flak for as many people think an implanted California girl is off brand for the chi chi Parisian fashion house. Which is true, she’s more mall rat than haute couture and the ads are nuttin’ special. But the mighty Karl has christened her Chanel 2011 so all we can do is shut up and pretend like the marketing quandaries of Chanel make any difference in our lives. That said, I’m digging this Vegas toga. And the fact that she manages to look like sex on a stick while being totally covered from head to toe. She’s like Sofia Vergara in that way - they could be wearing a burlap sac with barbed wire straps and you’d still want to do them (I think the secret is having the sickest body ever. EUREKA!) Still, if only it were a different/actual colour! Imagine it as midnight blue with gold leafing instead. Eh? Eh? BAM! So much better.

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Double-whammy of insufferable. I don’t watch Glee because people bursting into show tunes makes me uncomfortable for them. I have a low cheesy threshold. But Leah Michele’s got a pretty solid reputation as a narcissistic diva meangirl on and off the show, so to her I say “Ha! You showed up in a bright red dress because we all know red = look at me! But it’s a a humdrum taffeta Sleepytime Tea version of the standout red-dress look you were probably going for. Schadenfreude!!” As for Gwynnie, what is up with her lately? The Gwyneth Paltrow I once knew and loved to hate was an unapologetic elitist who would wear things because they were oh-so cutting edge and if we didn’t like it, it was only because we are mere peasants who could never understand the nuances of high fashion. Now she’s in a boring-ass column Stella McCartney that I swear I’ve seen a version of one million times before, with peach satin bridal pumps that my mom would totally wear if they came in a kitten heel. A very safe and dated bet, catering to the masses. Who ARE you?

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Michelle Williams in Mui Mui, with a resounding YES! Like Liv’s dress, this hits just the right note between strange and sophisticated. Beautiful cut, covered in GIANT GOLD BIRDS! She looks like the Snow White of Sweden who was only allowed to bring one species of woodland creature to the gala. After a series of obstacle courses and challenges (set to a musical montage) her bird friends won the pot and got to go, leaving the squirrels and deer home at the ice castle on poison apple duty. I’m also assuming they’re the ones who tied the bows on her shoulders with their beaks as they fluttered around her. Chances this actually happened: eighty percent. Roughly.

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There are a LOT more people/pictures from the event but my battery is about to die, and posting them all would probably take all day. Such is life. So we’ll finish off with a bang in the form of Beyonce and her Pucci dress that was probably stitched onto her body because MAN that thing’s tight. Apparently she got boo’d because she only stopped for a few pictures before she had to be physically carried up the steps since she couldn’t waddle up them herself in this vacuum-sealed masterpiece. Which is what the Met Gala’s all about! Impracticality, discomfort and ridiculousness in the name of fashion. This dress is amazing, and made for someone with ba-donk-a-donk curves like Bee. She’s like a human vase. With a cleavage window and a giant black Clydesdale hoof. And it probably costs more money than I’ll ever make in my entire life. If those few sentences don’t epitomize couture, I don’t know what does.

Oy! Six minutes left on battery life. Don’t know what about, or when the next post will be, but I know where from yessssssssssss! Reminder: get flowers for hair. Until then!

There must be something in the water at the ol’ Rimes/Cibrian household (make that the Rimes household since Eddie’s still unemployed and living the glorified pool boy life). Something that smells like FEAR…and laxatives. Because our dear L. Falcrazy (hop into the hyperlink time machine for a refresher course on the Falcrazy moniker) has whittled herself down to an emaciated, knobby-kneed pile of bones. Even her trademark Mr. Magoo squint eyes have stripped themselves of flesh due to malnourishment and unveiled her once-hidden eyeballs! I can see the whites of LeAnn Rimes’ eyes!! It’s like I don’t even know her anymore.

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That is NOT a healthy woman. Physically and emotionally, which obviously go hand-in-spindly-Cryptkeeper-like-hand. And although we’ve known Falcrazy is well, CRAZY for a long time, seeing it take such a drastic physical toll is actually more sad than funny. Judging by what we know about her li’l situation (read: is engaged to a man she stole from another woman,  a serial cheater that has since lost his job because of all the negative press they were relentlessly famewhoring themselves out for, all while maniacally tweeting narcissistic blurbs of sugary delusional WTF’s at five minute intervals AND creepily mimicking every aspect of said former woman’s life, from mothering her children to getting identical breast implants from the same doctor. Aaaaaaaaand EXHALE.) we can only assume that her many troubles are manifesting themselves as a nonfat yogurt for lunch. Could it be because she’s fraught with worry over keeping her man? And WHAT A MAN…obviously:

With her wedding just a few months away, LeAnn Rimes went on a diet to slim down before the big day - but has she taken it too far?

Although LeAnn’s rep denies the story, according to a course, LeAnn is thinner than she’s been in years, and she’s still losing. The source reveals that LeAnn is a bundle of nerves over marrying Eddie Cibrian, and she’s dieting and working out more than ever before.

“LeAnn is determined to look her best,” the source says. “Eddie likes skinny girls, so LeAnn seems to be dieting to keep him interested.”

During a gathering in their Hidden Hills neighborhood, a witness says that LeAnn sipped water and avoided alcohol.

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Clearly we don’t need to go over the reasons of why that’s a big steaming pile of (vegetables, no oil!!!) WRONG. And even though she knew what she was getting since she wasn’t the only trick Eddie’s roaming peen publicly wandered into, it’s hard not to get a tiny case of the sads when you see someone so obviously…losing it. No pun intended. Granted, it might be her comeuppance for being a homewrecker but she didn’t act alone - why don’t we see Eddie suffering? On second thought, people without bacon and cookies and carbs in their life usually get all miserable and crusty from lack of essential YUM HAPPY vitamins, so I’m sure he’s suffering just by having to be around her hungry ass. That’s what he gets for “liking ‘em skinny.”

And just in case you’re entertaining the thought of “maybe she just wanted to get in shape” or “she’s just eating healthy and exercising to lose a few pounds, stop being soooooo DRAMATIC” then I ask you to look at these side by side comparisons and then try telling me that Falcrazy isn’t the newest member of Starvation Nation:

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FACT: the only way you can lose half your body weight in 3 months is through some seriously unhealthy shizz. It’s definitely not my place to say she has a full blown eating disorder, but there has to be some obsessive dieting/calorie counting + overexercising going on there. Which is bad news bears in itself. Here’s one more, just to hammer this point home:

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Operation Skeletor in full force. We need a rainbow frosting IV, STAT. Double it. I want one too. Mmmmmm.

Of course, the reason her drastic weight loss has come to my attention is because it’s all over the tabloids/interweb. And since she both loves the attention and seemingly must tweet every 5 minutes or else she will spontaneously combust into a cloud of insecurity and luckdragon fur, she’s been on Twitter defending her diet of frozen thin mint cookies and bites of pizza (little known fact: when tweeting, you’re actually under oath. Twitter is a house of truth!!!). Followed by a picture of her in a bikini with her belly button all warped and stretched out because it has no tummy to sink into. As if to say “SHUT UP (and keep talking about me!), I’m going to say I eat cookies and you have to believe me because I said so!” and also, “Look how skinny I am! JEALOUS? And I do it eating Girl Scout cookies, yeah that’s right. H8TERZZZZZ!!” Judge for youself:

“LOVE Thin Mint Cookies! I never know where to buy GS Cookies, so I’m always elated when someone I know has them! Love Thin Mints frozen!”
@KarlaHoffman @lindseyg696 you don’t know me, you have NO idea what I weigh or eat, so why should you have any opinion about my weight?
@KarlaHoffman @lindseyg696 I own that I am healthy and take dang goof care of my body, that’s what I own.
@KarlaHoffman last time we ordered pizza for the boys at our house you were there and I didn’t pass it up. You’ve witnessed it!

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Capped off by:

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Ugh. Falcrazy, although I find it kind of sad that you feel you have to do this to your body and part of me feels sorry for you, you’re just so effing insufferable. Go eat a sandwich so I can hate you guilt-free, ok? Thanks.

Oh, and just for shits and giggles to tie the crazy with the anorexic with the stalking of Eddie’s ex wife saga into a neat little blog post-sized package, turns out the above picture is an exact replica of one Brandi (his ex) posted a few weeks before on Facebook.

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USURPER!!

It’s so hard not to love this shizz. Falcrazy, you take the cake! Then flagellate yourself with asparagus spears for being in the same room as butter and refined sugars. We’re onto you, ok? Go have a burrito and get some help.

Last we heard from good ol’ Freckles Von Crack-lie, she was beginning her latest legal saga with The Curious Case of The Missing Necklace Around Lindsay Lohan’s Neck. Since then it’s been a succession of court dates (or as Freckles likes to think of them, swing-low fashion shows). Not surprisingly, she’s yet again been given far more chances than she deserves. It turns out that the California legal system is more like a suggestion box attached to the dressing room door of the collective celebrity unit - no pressure, but let’s mull over our options and have a little chat about what we might want to enforce (sincerely, Justice. PS. My Lasik surgery went off without a hitch!). What I’m saying is: why is she not sitting in the middle of a jail cell RIGHT NOW surrounded by Fraggle hair extensions pulled out from withdrawal tremors? Wait, hold that thought! Because there’s a glimmer of hope that lovely image will materialize in the near future.

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But first, so as not to shock our systems with the stark jolt of POSSIBLE CONSEQUENCES in Freckles’ courtroom biography, let’s ease into this story with more of her usual, predictable shizz. She’s been hitting the NY club scene pretty hard as of late, complete with her token move: some sort of nonalcoholic beverage can perpetually in hand which serves as “proof” she’s not hitting the sauce. Righhhht. Because we all skipped junior high and never learned THAT trick. If there’s one thing we know about Freckles, it’s that no measure is too desperate for her to get her drink on. Case in point: “someone spilled a drink on my SCRAM bracelet.” If I had a nickel!

Page Six reports:

Lindsay Lohan keeps on having a good time without her family. Still energized from an all-night, booze-free party Thursday, she arrived at new Flatiron nightspot Riff Raff’s at around 1 a.m. Friday morning with a girlfriend. “She was clutching onto her signature can of Red Bull and stayed until almost 2 a.m.,” our spy said. “She looked like she was in a partying mood. It didn’t seem like she was ending the night there.”

Careful to show she wasn’t drinking, “she kept her can of Red Bull in full view of other partygoers,” we’re told. She was later spotted at the Top of the Standard, where she left at 3 a.m. But Friday, it was back to being the family golden girl — Lohan headed out for a day with her mom, Dina, and her brothers and sister.

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Call me crazy, but if you’re a recovering alcoholic on probation and in the middle of a court case regarding your crack thievery, maybe you should stay home? Forget about her actually acknowledging she has a problem and should therefore avoid temptation like an Overeaters Anonymous member avoids a make-your-own-sundae bar. It’s pretty clear she’ll be deluding herself into thinking she’s a social drinker and recreational drug user who’s entitled to “be young and have fun”, for LIFE (I often look back fondly on the multiple arrests and rehab stays of my early youth…somewhere in between my first kiss and getting my driver’s license.). But for the sake of her public image, she needs to at least appear as if she’s taking this seriously and settling the eff down. Guzzling Red Bull at a club until 2am isn’t convincing anyone. She’s been yammering on and on about getting her career back on track after all of her legal woes blow over, yet time and time again she makes irresponsible decisions and shows can’t be trusted to hold her shit together. Here’s a thought: dedicate your time to making yourself INSURABLE AGAIN. Have I just been to the wrong clubs or are they actually worth jeopardizing your entire career over? Being engulfed by popped collars and roofie aficionados isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

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Anyway, now that we’ve had time to digest a little familiar Lohan drama we can move on to the good stuff! Her last court visit left off with her being granted a continuance on accepting a plea deal. The deal being, she can either go to jail now for 3 months (in actuality, about 20 days. Ninety means twenty? Do numbers have any meaning at all? I’m having a Descartes moment.) or risk going to trial to face a possible conviction and up to a year in jail. Until now she’s been rejecting the plea on account of her being royally stupid. There are mountains of evidence against her, the most damning of which being a surveillance video of her walking out of the jewellery store after putting the necklace on, repeatedly touching it around her neck showing she was aware of it being there, and not filling out any paperwork required to borrow it. In a bonehead move by the store, the tape was sold to the media and Freckles’ team is now arguing that it was all part of a big mean plot by the store owners to frame her and drum up their own publicity (while their creativity is admirable, there’s no way that’ll hold up in the end.). Perhaps Lohan’s lawyers have waded through the fog of her meth haze and convinced Lilo that she’s reached a dead end? Because she’s said to be considering the deal after realizing that, after continually managing to squirm her way out of it, a jail stay is inevitable this time around.

Lindsay Lohan’s confidence is starting to wane — sources close to LiLo tell us she is finally getting it through her head she can’t avoid jail and is now “seriously considering” taking a plea deal.

As TMZ first reported, Judge Keith Schwartz offered LiLo and her attorney Shawn Holley a deal that includes three months in jail … which get whittled down to 19 days because of jail overcrowding.

Lindsay has been adamant for weeks … she would never take a plea deal because she feels she did nothing wrong. Sources close to Lindsay tell us she still maintains her innocence … but reality is starting to sink in and Lindsay is beginning to understand the risks of going forward with a trial.

If she loses at trial, she could get more than a year in jail for the probation violation … plus prison time for the felony grand theft.

If Lindsay accepts the deal, Holley must tell the judge on Wednesday.  Lindsay will be back in court Friday to either take a plea or declare war.
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SO. Here we are, twiddling our thumbs until tomorrow when we find out just how long our little Freckles will be staying in the clink. My guess is that she’ll take the deal and in doing so, preserve whatever shred of dignity she has left. It’s over, Freckles! Take the plea, show some class, and try not to wear an inappropriately tight dress that looks like Buffalo Bill couture. Thanks and see you tomorrow.

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For the second installment of Qu’est-ce Que C’est Monday (why did I have to pick such a tedious title?) I promised one that is almost definitely about Olivia Munn, one of the final nails in the Timberlake/Biel relationship coffin. So read this knowing that while we’re never COMPLETELY sure who these are about, um, I’m 99% positive that this one’s her. Next week I’ll bring in a tough one that I have no friggin’ clue about. About a dude.

Bonus Blind: She-Devil Dees Screws Hot TV Guy, Oh No!

Darlings, if you’re on overload from all the glitz yesterday, you’re in luck! We’ve got some nice, down-home, dirty slut action for ya!

She-Devil Dees (who will get an Oscar nomination about as soon as I do, the little TV tramp) has been angling her latest conquest. Girl really does climb on top of dudes better than she does television roles, but hey, that’s not so unusual in this town.

So who is She-Devil crowing loudly about this time—and what particular body part?

A stud from the hottest show in the world! Can you believe it?

We can, as we’d expect nothing less from SDD, who only likes to move on the hottest guys around. And she usually can, too, as her bod’s totally bitchin’.

Since She-Devil’s already tired of her latest bed conquests, it makes complete sense she’s now succeeding in seducing a very talented (and cute) dude from the hit show.
They met in L.A. recently at a party, and true to form, Ms. Dees lost no time in taking him right home and ripping both their clothes off.

In a moment that’s worth far more notice than most of She’s oncamera performances, She-Devil breathlessly whispered to her new man: “You’re about to f—k the p—sy that every guy in Hollywood wants.”

Wow. Who writes this chick’s dialog, Charlie Sheen?

Do straight guys actually go for that porn talk? Never mind. We already know the answer because said guy did…did again…and will do again.

Maybe he’ll only stop when he realizes She-Devil’s the one who’s been calling the paparazzi, who just happen to be around, no matter how stealth they try to be?

Yep, that’s what it’s gonna take.

And It Ain’t: Kim Kardashian, Blake Lively, Vanessa Hudgens

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For those of you who don’t know who Olivia is, I love you. She started out on Attack of the Show on G4 Tech TV and has been trying to make herself happen for ages. By way of the most desperate and painfully obnoxious methods. That is, tits-up-ass-out on the cover of every men’s magazine that will have her. Too many to link! Girl is consistently in her underoos with that gaping-mouth Real Doll expression on her face. Her M.O. has always been “I’m such a geek! But SO HOT AND YOU WANT TO DO ME. I’m the cool hot girl! PLEASE? RIGHT? Wanna see my boobs?” True, a hot girl who is unknowingly super cool (a human ICY HOT patch?) is like hitting the jackpot and you should hold on for sweet, dear life. But trying so hard to manufacture yourself as one is like “accidentally” leaving your purse behind at some guy’s house: obvious, desperate and too try-hard to be effective.

Buuuuut clearly her tactics aren’t working too well since her career is stagnant beyond some obscure new sitcom called Couplehood or Lovely Couples or something I can’t be bothered to look up. Which is why she’s resorted to humping on JT (post below) in a bid to be his new girlfriend and the She-Devil Dee tactics listed above. It’s her! I SWEAR.

POURQUOI?

Terrible actress.

Bangin’ bod.

Sleazy inclinations.

And this.

Forget the niceties. Consider this one solved.

NEXT!

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Fresh off the Kate Bosworth post the other day, we have another story featuring the trials and tribulations of the Professional Girlfriend. In this instance it’s the dreaded PINK SLIP. Jessica Biel has gathered all her things (dumbbells, estrogen pills, the script for Stealth 2: Sure, Let’s Give It Another Shot) into a little brown box and tried not to let the door hit her on that famously sculpted ass. She and Justin Timberlake are finally, officially, sweet-Jeebus-that-took-long-enough, DONE:

Justin Timberlake and Jessica Biel are no longer a couple.

The two decided to end their relationship recently and “there are no hard feelings,” a source tells PEOPLE exclusively. “It was completely mutual and they both decided it was time to move on.”

The source adds that Biel is keeping her house in L.A. and she and Timberlake, who started dating in 2007, will remain friends.

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Seriously, this has been a looooooong time coming. Except nobody realized that Jessica had coated her claws in Sally Hansen Extra Strength topcoat right before she dug them into Justin 4 years ago. Those puppies were STRONG. I am being a little hard on her though - he was just as happy to string her along as she was being strung. GO TEAM!

Why do I say this? Well the last couple years of their romance have been plagued with endless cheating rumours and a creepy dynamic that left them oddly distant from one another for periods of time. Which was always followed by a barrage of paparazzi pictures displaying how very “together” they were. Like effing clockwork. Which is why the spidey senses were always tingling re: them being more of a mutually beneficial agreement than a genuine romantic relationship. Lacking any real career beyond “interchangeable hot girl” yet desperate to be taken seriously as an actress, her identity as “Justin Timberlake’s girlfriend” overshadowed the importance of the relationship itself because she was more relevant that way than on her own. Which for him, meant getting to do basically whatever he wanted as long as she remained his official GF. Like go-go dancers (because he hangs out at Studio 54?). And Cameron Diaz (allegedly). And Olivia Munn (FOR SURE).**

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Above: their last public appearance at the Vanity Fair Oscar Party, with his eyeballs and her neck muscles giving an accurate reflection of their relationship.

The obvious question here is: why would he bother keeping her around? If he just wants to screw around anyway, what’s the point in even having a girlfriend? (Dirtbags everywhere: “What are you TALKING ABOUT, WOMAN?”) There are a couple theoretical answers. One is that it’s good PR for him to have a girlfriend, period. He’s established enough in his music career to not have to resort to the “hot single dude” card to make girls want him and therefore buy his albums. Having a girlfriend might make him more accessible, more likeable. Who knows. I’m no publicist, I just play one on the Internet. The second theory is that he’s just a massive pansy who’s too afraid to break up with his girlfriend so he can bone go-go dancers as a free man. With an added bonus that some girls are inexplicably attracted to guys who are already taken. And finally, if those two theories stumbled upon each others’ eHarmony profiles and ended up with a hybrid baby theory of their own, it would be that he’d gotten tired of Biel a long time ago but wanted to test out the goods and have a jump off in place before he cut and run. Whether any of these theories hold up remains to be seen.

Next question: what’s changed, exactly? Answer: it seems that little JT is trying to metamorphosize into a movie star of sorts. It’s something he’s been trying to convince us of for a while now (did anyone see Black Snake Moan? Or rather Christina Ricci as Naked Meth Puppy) and his praise in The Social Network has only further fueled his ego and deluded him into thinking that he’s destined to conquer the film world the way he did music (don’t get me wrong, JT is definitely CRAZY talented…musically. But since when does being able to sing/songwrite automatically translate into acting capabilities? It DOESN’T. See: Madonna). And for some reason studio execs are buying it and continue to cast him in movies alongside real actors.

The point is, he now has two movies coming out (Bad Teacher and Friends With Benefits) and “JT as actor” won’t be going away any time soon. At least not if he can help it. Which means he’s gotta hustle with the best of ‘em. Because although the public love love loves him as a musician, he doesn’t have much identity as an actor yet (spoiler alert: he sucks. Like, high school play caliber acting skills. EN-UN-CI-ATE!). He’s gotta get butts in those movie seats in any way possible. Perhaps he’s looking for an image overhaul? Maybe he figures he needs to play that “single dude” card to generate fresh interest in him. Or wants to stick with the girlfriend shtick but get a new model. Word is he’s been trying to hit Mila Kunis ever since they started filming Friends With Benefits. Because not only is she the best looking person EVER, but also surrounded by tons of buzz since Black Swan turned her into a household name. It would be great for JT if he could leech off of some of that sweet, sweet press and squeeze out a little buzz for himself. It’s also great for box office sales if there’s a real life romantic connection between movie characters. People love that shizz! Like when they’re making out on screen you know that they make out in real life, and for some reason it makes people really happy. Did I say happy? I meant horny. Either way, they buy tickets.

Anyway, we won’t be wondering about these two for long. Justin will either go on a massive dating/screwing spree or have a new girlfriend on his arm (Mila, don’t do it!) by the time promotions roll around. Jessica will be trying to do the same (I don’t mean date Mila, although that would be AMAZING. And great for publicity) and it will be tons of fun to guess who she clings onto next. If possible we should turn it into a drinking game. Every time she’s spotted out with a new dude, chug a beer. And whenever a story about how Justin “wants her back” is leaked to the tabloids, take a shot. We’ll be hammered in no time! It’ll be awesome. Let the games begin.

**I’m hoarding a blind item that is almost definitely about Olivia Munn and it’s a yummy one. Tune in on Qu’est-ce Que C’est Monday!

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