There is Nothing Wrong with Implants, But...

My family are not celebrities, unless you use a very liberal definition of the term. Maybe if you play 6 Degrees of Kevin Bacon. My dad met Omar Sharif once, who I'm sure acted with K.B., right? Regardless, even then, it would be a stretch. Though they are not celebs, my family was in Charleston today and because of one particularly interesting incident, it warrants a blog post. At least I think it does. But that's all that really matters, isn't it?

So. Jump back to early March, when I went on a vacay with my dad. He was going to an exotic southeast Asian country for work and I was bored so, you know, I went too. One day, I was minding my own business, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes after a between-wine-with-lunch-and-cocktails nap of the sort that only occurs on vacation and in Fitzgerald novels, when my dad hit me with a word-bomb: "So, your mom, um, got a, um, boob job."

Naturally my eyes about popped out of my head and any relaxation that the trip had provided was out the window quicker than you could say "collagen." (Background: my mother is the antithesis of someone who would purchase breasts. She sees absolutely no point in buying clothes because they are from a particular designer, and she regularly mocks me for the cost and variety of my handbags. You don't go from hating on Prada to getting a boob job. It's not done.)

I spent the remainder of the week trying to beat it out of him that he was lying, and even made a very expensive telephone call to my brother to get his take on things. He corroborated the story. I couldn't ask my mom, natch. That would be too awkward.

Upon my return to the U.S. I told basically everyone I know about the alleged boob job, of which I was now convinced. Flash forward to yesterday, when my parents sent me an e-photo of them in Saint Simons, which I promptly blew up as much as possible on my comp in order to examine my mother's breast status. Uncomfortable, but it was my only chance.

The fam arrived this a.m. in Charleston, and I quickly realized I had been punk'd. Ashton Kutcher, listen up, this is a good one. The breasts were as before. I confronted my mother, who was IN ON IT FROM THE START and everyone had a great laugh. Hilarious. Apparently they were calling it "Operation Lampshade."

And they wonder why I moved away.


This blog will return to celebrity coverage as soon as one surfaces.

College Hosts Another Socially-Active Celeb

In a surprising twist, the College of Charleston is hosting former Black Panther, presidential candidate, and FBI's Most Wanted Angela Davis tonight at 7.

Ms. Davis' appearance, along with that of Morris Dees (see previous, overly-excited post), indicates that perhaps they have seen the error of their old ways, i.e. two years ago when Ron Jeremy was the featured speaker. His topic? First amendment rights. I can't talk too much shit because I actually didn't go, but I heard it quickly deteriorated in a Q&A session on his penis size.

Now, if you were C of C and you were going to have a famous (or infamous, depending on your point of view) speaker like Davis, you would think you'd be pumped, and advertise it heavily using many media outlets. Au contraire. Check out the College's website, where the biggest news is Rabbi Epstein's class, which presumably meets every week.

For any interested parties, the talk is tonight at 7 in the Kresse Arena on George Street. Dress is seventies-casual. Ms. Davis will be signing her new book afterwards at a reception which means CATERING!

Sort-of-Celebrity

When I was a pre-teen, or even "tween" as they say now, I loved me some Lifetime. It was so angsty. But since I emerged from the cocoon of puberty as a beautiful butterfly, I have tried to keep my Lifetime viewing to a minimum, and that includes "Unsolved Mysteries" and "Designing Women."
Even without being a regular viewer, I am aware of the show "Army Wives," which apparently tries to document the trials of being a military spouse (mostly a wife, but I think there's a token husband in there too...as a matter of fact, I know there is, and he also serves as the token black character! Lifetime is a careful steward of its resources). I watched a piece of it once, after a friend of mine went to the "Army Wives" party here in Charleston (Imagine the lamest party you've ever been to. Now invite your great-aunt. NOW require jello molds.).
I, being a female of the modern world, have a pretty high tolerance for sexism in the media. I'm conditioned to love it, and to allow it to convince me to buy things like shiny-hair shampoo and a membership to eHarmony. But "Army Wives" was ridic.
I watched 2 scenes. Scene 1:
Man outside with 3 (tiny boy) children "working" on family car. Children proceed to spill oil everywhere and generally fuck things up. Enter wife and pre-teen daughter. Daughter is told to go clean the boys up from their "learning experience" with dad, the purpose of which is to make sure they can take care of their mom while he's gone. Yeahright.
Scene 2:
Token husband talking to wife. He's upset because since she got back from FIGHTING A WAR in IRAQ he's had to sleep on the couch. Apparently intimacy isn't on her to-do list after trying to PROTECT HERSELF FROM GETTING KILLED for the last year or so. Geez!

But I digress. The purpose of this post is actually to note the presence of one of the "Army Wives" castmembers right here in Charleston. According to our working-girl-on-the-scene Rebecca, Richard Bryant was at her law office. I quote: "Richard Bryant (the very adorable, troubled son on Army Wives) was in MY OFFICE THIS MORNING! That's right. 5 exchange street was graced with a cable drama star. He was here visiting his mom, a paralegal. I've heard rumors of his visits but today, I saw it. Live in color. He's so much cuter in person than on tv. and totally not abusive, like his character."

You heard it here first. Unless you talked to Rebecca today. Then, you heard it hear second.