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Paltrow a Hollywood Pariah After Weight-Gain Roller Coaster of Shallow HalDecember 24, 2001 |
Hollywood, CA Ramrod Hurley Actress Paltrow, pudgy and proud idden away in the dark corners of her ranch-style Hollywood home, where thick oaken blinds strain the noontime sunlight to a dull trickle, former A-list actress Gwyneth Paltrow stares out over the rim of a vodka-and-tonic.
"I don't know what's going on," sighs Paltrow in barely a whisper. "It's like I've got the clap or something. Nobody calls, the doorbell doesn't ring... I haven't heard from my agent in weeks."
Such is the fate of a once in-demand star who dared to play the fat girl.
"Honestly, I'm surprised nobody has tried to hollow out her chest to hole up for the winter. My God. I mean, what was she thinking?" gossiped Hollywood producer Mart Wixle.
Paltrow's star seemed to be unstoppably on the rise until her fatal miscue of accept...
idden away in the dark corners of her ranch-style Hollywood home, where thick oaken blinds strain the noontime sunlight to a dull trickle, former A-list actress Gwyneth Paltrow stares out over the rim of a vodka-and-tonic.
"I don't know what's going on," sighs Paltrow in barely a whisper. "It's like I've got the clap or something. Nobody calls, the doorbell doesn't ring... I haven't heard from my agent in weeks."
Such is the fate of a once in-demand star who dared to play the fat girl.
"Honestly, I'm surprised nobody has tried to hollow out her chest to hole up for the winter. My God. I mean, what was she thinking?" gossiped Hollywood producer Mart Wixle.
Paltrow's star seemed to be unstoppably on the rise until her fatal miscue of accepting a role in the Farrelly brothers' recent Shallow Hal, in which Paltrow plays a morbidly obese North Carolina woman. During the film's production, rumors began to surface about Paltrow's out-of-control weight fluctuations, with various sources placing her anywhere between 110 and 350 pounds on any given day.
"It was insane," stated former co-star Ben Affleck. "One day I'd see her and she'd be the same old Gwyneth, and then the next she looked like she ate a boyscout troup. It was kind of creepy. You think she got into Metabolife or something?"
"Do you think it's that rumor that I'm really a dude?" asked Paltrow during a recent interview. "That went around for a while after I did Shakespeare in Love but I thought it had died down. You never can be too sure with the internet, though. My sister seems to think it's about Shallow Hal but that doesn't make any sense. Everybody knows that was just a fat suit, right?"
"Yeah, we've all heard the fat suit line," quipped Wixle. "That one's older than Bob Hope. Eleanor Roosevelt tried to pull that once, and it was old even back then. A Hydrox cookie suit is more like it, heh."
Few are showing sympathy for Paltrow, who many claim should have taken a hint from the overwhelming public disgust shown when actress Renee Zellweger ballooned up to a corpulent 120 lbs for her role in the limey farce Bridget Jones' Diary. Starlet Julia Roberts also took a public-relations tumble when she was shown eating an entire cracker in the summer comedy America's Sweethearts.
"I mean, get with the program," continued Wixle. "Nobody goes to the movies to see fat people. Walmart's closer and they don't charge admission. People don't want to be confronted with the tubby realities of everyday life when they go to the theater. Did you see Renee in Bridget Jones? Good God, I thought she was going to reach through the screen and eat my popcorn. Somebody get me a lipo tube and a bone saw, we'd better take out some ribs. She must have force-fed herself three meals a day to bulk up like that. Talk about sick."
Paltrow's upcoming film deals appear to be in limbo as no one in Hollywood seems to be willing to share a phone line with her, thanks to rumors around town that fat might be contagious. Her fax machine is still ringing off the hook, however all recent offers have been from talk shows and companies selling miracle weight-loss herbs. Additionally, Paltrow reports that her gardener recently discovered a nest of tabloid photographers living in the azaleas in her front yard. Spraying commences on Wednesday. the commune's Ramrod Hurley takes 'em as he can get 'em... up to 110lbs. Sorry ladies, Ramrod doesn't deal in bulk.
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 February 16, 2001
Rok Finger: Independent Film StarBeing a celebrity has its advantages. I've never been one of those wildly popular people who've complained about the spotlight. I revel in the attention and the fact people value what I have to say. I consider myself a very trusted member of the community, holding more sway than the Mayor and the guy who dances at baseball games combined. But now Rokwell T. Finger is taking the next logical step in the celebrity chain—I'm going to be in a movie! Before you get all worked up into a frenzy, make sure that I'm not going to be some John Davidson-style action hero or champagne-sippin' conniver in a big-budget romp. No, while that may seem the preferred way to go, the film's producer, Piglet, made the point that appearing in a film like that would rob me of my credibility. Instead, I'm doing something of great artistic merit. The film is currently titled Dog Dick Sunday, but might change if a more interesting title comes up. From what I understand the film is about a fellow, named Dick of course, who experiences a very unpleasant Sabbath. No one has described the film for me or let me see a script, but I think it's pretty transparent from the title. No, I won't be playing "Dick"—baby steps, good people, baby steps. My character is known as "Creepy Old Guy" in the script, though if I understand right nobody actually states my name. From the scenes I've rehearsed already, everyone generally screams when they see me. Not without good...
º Last Column: No Dog Will Run My Life º more columns
Being a celebrity has its advantages. I've never been one of those wildly popular people who've complained about the spotlight. I revel in the attention and the fact people value what I have to say. I consider myself a very trusted member of the community, holding more sway than the Mayor and the guy who dances at baseball games combined. But now Rokwell T. Finger is taking the next logical step in the celebrity chain—I'm going to be in a movie! Before you get all worked up into a frenzy, make sure that I'm not going to be some John Davidson-style action hero or champagne-sippin' conniver in a big-budget romp. No, while that may seem the preferred way to go, the film's producer, Piglet, made the point that appearing in a film like that would rob me of my credibility. Instead, I'm doing something of great artistic merit. The film is currently titled Dog Dick Sunday, but might change if a more interesting title comes up. From what I understand the film is about a fellow, named Dick of course, who experiences a very unpleasant Sabbath. No one has described the film for me or let me see a script, but I think it's pretty transparent from the title. No, I won't be playing "Dick"—baby steps, good people, baby steps. My character is known as "Creepy Old Guy" in the script, though if I understand right nobody actually states my name. From the scenes I've rehearsed already, everyone generally screams when they see me. Not without good reason—most of the scenes I'm carrying a torch and shrieking in a high-pitched whine. That would certainly scare me, folks! I can guarantee there won't be any nudity—Rok Finger isn't into putting this temple on display for anyone but the Mrs. and those just outside my bedroom window, including our neighbor Mrs. Hardlevilch. I will be appearing in my underwear in most scenes, but as Piglet said, "Underwear models, like, get paid to do that all the time, yeah? And they can, y'know, appear in your Sunday morning paper while you're, like, drinking your coffee and shit." Well-stated, Piglet. Well-stated. I'm also very excited to be bringing back the lost art of blackface. My character spends much of the movie in black grease paint (or axle grease; I can't recall which the make-up person said it was) and I performed some of my very favorite Amos & Andy and Jolsen bits on the set; they won't be in the movie, of course, but perhaps on the outtake reel. Most of the kids on the set must've never seen any kind of comedy like it, they all seemed very perplexed and stunned. Hopefully my next role I'll get to exploit those talents more. Don't worry, folks, Rok Finger will still be a familiar face on the commune for some time to come. I don't expect to get swept up in the limelight. As soon as it interferes with my columns, I can assure you I'll tell them to take a hike. But in the meantime, I hope you'll enjoy my stardom as much as I am. The film will be playing in Piglet's basement when it opens, though no set date as of yet, seeing as how the film is yet to be completed. A few key scenes need to be shot, and then the movie may take a while in post-production, since Piglet's dad won't get off his back about the money he owes him. But when it debuts… watch out independent film world! Rok Finger is about to make a big bomb! º Last Column: No Dog Will Run My Lifeº more columns
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|  June 23, 2003
Lesson of DreamHello, reader of Boris. Is day good? Yes, what you say is not the shit.
If you are asking, Boris is good. All days is good since Boris make friend with big bee. Talk about great thing, this is bee friend.
It all starts when Boris has dream. In dream, Boris is walking down road. This part, you are thinking, is maybe not in dream since Boris walks down road in awake world also. But wait for next part. Next thing is that Boris sees big bee! But Boris is not afraid or hiding in bush. Brave dream Boris walk up to big bee and speaks words which show up in air like letters! Is funny dream things.
"R U A B?" is saying Boris.
"I M A B." is what big bee says in letters.
Boris is thinking this is the holy shit. There should be camera or audience persons for this thing. Is like crazy dream.
"O" saying Boris to bee. "I C."
This is when Boris takes bee hand in Boris hand and walk as friends. Is nice end for dream, nicer than other dreams which end with Boris eaten by dinosaur.
So when wake up, Boris knows he now has big bee friend. Yay for Boris! Boris does spend afternoon outside in sun's shine, playing game with bee friend. Boris and bee plays tag, and hide the go look. Are fun games, yes. Boris want to play Connecting Four, but bee doesn't not like this game.
Instead Boris takes bee friend inside to have lunch. Spaghetti-zeroes for Boris, and honey for bee. Honey is good...
º Last Column: Big Bee º more columns
Hello, reader of Boris. Is day good? Yes, what you say is not the shit.
If you are asking, Boris is good. All days is good since Boris make friend with big bee. Talk about great thing, this is bee friend.
It all starts when Boris has dream. In dream, Boris is walking down road. This part, you are thinking, is maybe not in dream since Boris walks down road in awake world also. But wait for next part. Next thing is that Boris sees big bee! But Boris is not afraid or hiding in bush. Brave dream Boris walk up to big bee and speaks words which show up in air like letters! Is funny dream things.
"R U A B?" is saying Boris.
"I M A B." is what big bee says in letters.
Boris is thinking this is the holy shit. There should be camera or audience persons for this thing. Is like crazy dream.
"O" saying Boris to bee. "I C."
This is when Boris takes bee hand in Boris hand and walk as friends. Is nice end for dream, nicer than other dreams which end with Boris eaten by dinosaur.
So when wake up, Boris knows he now has big bee friend. Yay for Boris! Boris does spend afternoon outside in sun's shine, playing game with bee friend. Boris and bee plays tag, and hide the go look. Are fun games, yes. Boris want to play Connecting Four, but bee doesn't not like this game.
Instead Boris takes bee friend inside to have lunch. Spaghetti-zeroes for Boris, and honey for bee. Honey is good thing for bee, is what bee eats in out of doors.
Boris and bee take nap, and wakes up when Louis come home. Boris is all the way excited to tell Louis story of how Boris and bee make friends. But before story can be said, Louis sits in chair where bee is sleeping! Louis does not see big bee, and oh my God, Louis is jumping and stung in the butt. And bee is sick from killing Louis. Is all so exciting and loud.
When all is done, Louis is in bad butt-swollen mood, and bee is taking nap forever. Him is so sleepy. Boris make little matchbox bed for bee, like in good cartoon movie, and tucks bee in for sleeping. Is nice.
Louis says there is lessons to learn from big bee adventures, and lesson is "Goddammit Boris!" Yes, is true. But like person says, when God flush the toilet, him open a window. And is true. Big bee friend is gone, but now "Similar to Skippy" dog does come out from under bed. So good thing can come from Louis killing friend of Boris with butt. º Last Column: Big Beeº more columns
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Quote of the Day“Be always on the phone, so that when the devil calls, he will get your voicemail.”
-St. JerryFortune 500 CookieJust because you don't like the message, don't waste your time killing the messenger. John of Lancaster already took care of that for you 500 years ago. New scientific breakthroughs now make it possible to wash your hair while it's still attached to your head: no more tedious cutting and re-attaching with naval knots. Try to remember: Chex are for breakfast, checks are for paying bills. You will mix those up again this week. This week's lucky dogs: Lassie's offspring still living off residuals, all Irish breeds, and the two-legged one-balled variety.
Try again later.Top KFC Image-Makeover Slogans| 1. | Kids, Fun, and Cholesterol | | 2. | Karmic Food Co-op | | 3. | Killin' Fuckin' Chickens | | 4. | Koreans for Christ | | 5. | Kome Feed da Chiknz | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY SHamu Wells D'Froad 6/24/2002 French PrickI smoked a thin cigarette quickly in one puff. It was what I do. I'm currently unemployed.
From the end of the beach I could see the shaky man coming, walking his dog. The shaky man is called that, by me, because of his never-ending addict trembles that riddle his body. I don't know his name, I've always called him the shaky man, though the dog's name is Boner.
"Bon jour, Boner," I say, feeling it would be silly to address the man, whose name I do not know.
"Don't talk to my dog, you insignificant French asshole," says the shaky man. He has a slight stutter when he says "t-t-t-t-talk" and "F-F-F-F-French." I can't say I disagree with him, I certainly am insignificant and French. I suppose I'm an asshole as well, at least as the standard slang meaning...
I smoked a thin cigarette quickly in one puff. It was what I do. I'm currently unemployed.
From the end of the beach I could see the shaky man coming, walking his dog. The shaky man is called that, by me, because of his never-ending addict trembles that riddle his body. I don't know his name, I've always called him the shaky man, though the dog's name is Boner.
"Bon jour, Boner," I say, feeling it would be silly to address the man, whose name I do not know.
"Don't talk to my dog, you insignificant French asshole," says the shaky man. He has a slight stutter when he says "t-t-t-t-talk" and "F-F-F-F-French." I can't say I disagree with him, I certainly am insignificant and French. I suppose I'm an asshole as well, at least as the standard slang meaning goes.
Once the shaky man with the dog is gone I leave the beach. I am not hurt by what he says, I am dead inside, I feel, but my leg and shoes are alive, and his dog has pissed on them.
In front of my Los Angeles beach house I find a woman waiting. Her cigarette is fat, and the smoke smells funny. It makes me hungry.
"Bon jour," she tells me. "What's your name?"
I do not want to tell her, but she is beautiful, and warrants my attention. I also wouldn't mind getting a toke off her cigarette.
"My name is Michel, not that it matters," I tell her bluntly. She smokes bluntly in return.
"How true it is, but what an asshole you sound like in saying so." I cannot disagree.
"You are from France?" I ask her. She nods curtly. "Kick ass. I am French as well."
"I could tell when you knew what I meant by 'Bon jour'," she said. "You are not unattractive."
"And I might say you are not unbeautiful yourself," I retort, unsmiling.
"It would not be great unsleeping with you." I nod, not sure if it was a positive or negative statement. "You appear sad," she coos in a voice like the waves of the ocean.
For a brief moment, there is an unsettling feeling in the pit of me. I worry it is the start of a real emotion, that I am no longer drab and unfeeling inside upon meeting her. I make a small noise instead.
"Forgive me my fart," I tell her. She shrugs.
"It's not mine, I have not smelt it."
We stare at each other blankly for minutes. We cannot read each other, we are like comic books where the ink has blurred the word balloons. Just drawings on a page, smoking moving smoke, which would be cool, but I don't care.
"You are not sad, but you wish you could be."
"I don't know," I said to her. "I am disturbed to not be disturbed, but it doesn't really bother me. My father's dead."
"Were you there?" she asked of me.
"I had to be if I shot him," I said. She nods, then flees. Nobody loves me.   |