According to People, Jennifer Lopez has registered at baby boutique Petit Tresor, and she has a wish list of things for her little bebés gemelos as long as her jewel-encrusted, impeccably manicured arm:

Following in the footsteps of Nicole Richie and Christina Aguilera, Jennifer Lopez called upon the experts at Hollywood favorite baby boutique Petit Tresor. The new mom opened a lengthy registry and had owners Nina and Sam help her design fabulous nurseries for the arrival of her twins! So what’s in store for the twins? J.Lo will keep her new baby boy wrapped in a cashmere cardigan, hat and bootie pants from Baby Cz, $279 and, of course, a matching pink set, $279, for the new fashionista of the family. The two newest members of the Anthony-Lopez clan will also have a set of Plain Mary’s Hunk and Babe onesies, $169. For the nursery, the twins will dream away in Chelsea Sleigh cribs, $1390 each while Mom and Dad relax in Glam Gliders $1,420 each. And when they need changing, the twins will have a Clara changing table, $1780. And why give up gorgeous handbags just because diapers are involved? Check out Jennifer’s Italian leather and snake skin trim Mia Bossi diaper bag, $1250.

[for the record, I didn’t find a Mia Bossi leather diaper bag at the site, but I did find this Italian leather and snakeskin trim bag, $1250]

Um…HELLO?  You have got to be kidding me.  Cashmere sweaters, $170 onesies, $1400 baby cribs, leather and snakeskin diaper bags?  You can get onesies at Wal-Mart, five in a pack for nine bucks.  At Target, you can get a really pretty sleigh bed for less than $400, and that’s one of the most expensive ones offered there.  And when I left the hospital, they gave me a free diaper bag, and they even filled it with goodies.  Granted, it wasn’t Italian leather, but it looked kind of like fabric and it cleaned up really easily when the poopy diapers leaked.

And that’s one of my points.  These. Are. BABIES.  What do babies do?  They eat, sleep, cry, poop, pee, spit up, and generally lay around like lumps while making as large a mess as possible from such a tiny little creature.  They can go through several outfits a day when they’re really little, what with spit up and runny yellow diapers, and it gets worse when they get to be toddlers and start feeding themselves (or wanting to, anyway) and running around the house finding all sorts of things to get into.  What is the point of dressing the tots in $300 outfits when they are going to puke all over them?  It sounds to me like it’s the parents showing off the size of their egos.  After all, stuff like that just plays to the egos of the parents…the baby could care less if it is wearing a onesie from a ritzy boutique or one from Wal-Mart.

And here’s another point.  If Jennifer’s friends really wanted to be so “helpful”, then they should save their money and definitely NOT buy Jennifer and Marc anything.  After all, these two have enough money to go buy their own baby clothes and furnishings (maybe they could use some of that $6M they’re getting from whoring out their kids to People).  It’s a waste and an abomination.

I say, instead of spending $300 on a cashmere set, their friends should take that same $300 (or any other amount they’d spend on overpriced baby bling gifts for Jennifer and Marc the babies) and donate it to a shelter for abused and battered women and children, or to a children’s charity, or to a home for abandoned infants and children.  It would go to much better use than giving it to a greedy, narcissistic, egotistical, out-of-touch-with-reality diva.

And that goes for all the other greedy celebutard parents as well.

Or at least the photographic representations of them.

News today is that JLo has finally checked into that suite at North Shore University Hospital (you know, the suite specially outfitted for her, with a brown leather couch and furnishings untouched by the blood or amniotic fluid of the little people otherwise known as the “non-famous”) to deliver her babies, widely reported to be twins, and it seems that staffers on that floor are all in a tizzy because, well, it’s JLo, and apparently she used to be somebody.

“Sources” also say that she’s sold the first public photos of the little tykes for $6M, to be split between People and OK!, who will distribute the pics in their international magazines.  And finally, the babes will snooze in style in nurseries which cost over $120K to outfit in high style, including chandeliers and 18-karat trim.  In three homes, nonetheless.

Okay, I gotta stop.  Huh?  First of all, what makes Jennifer Lopez so special that she gets a special, unsullied room and nobody else is allowed to touch it?  It’s a hospital, I’m sure they clean the delivery rooms extremely well between birthings.  Had the room been used even the day before, I’m sure it would have been sanitized in time for Jennifer’s arrival.  Yeah, the argument could be made that a room needed to be kept ready for whenever she went into labor, and I’m sure there needs to be things taken into account such as security measures and privacy.  But still…she couldn’t use the room as it was, it had to be specially outfitted just for her?  She’ll be in the standard issue hospital bed anyway, I don’t see what difference it makes.  And I’m sure they have more than one room which could have accommodated her.  What makes JLo and her babies so much more special than any other mother who comes in to give birth?  And will she change her mind and have a silent birth after all?

And all that money, for nurseries for babies who’s eyes can’t even focus properly?  What is that about?  I’m not against having nice things, but why not donate some of that money to mothers who NEED it?  Last time I checked, babies eat, sleep, and poop…sometimes all at once, many times not in a neat and orderly fashion.  What does any baby need with nurseries that have gold trim and chandeliers?  Sounds more to me like indulging the egos of the parents.  I wish I could be a little fly on the wall (yeah, like she’d allow a fly) when those babies spit up or get runny diapers all over their expensive sheets.  I’m not trying to be mean, just pointing out that babies will poop on anything, from $116 organic blankets to $5 polarfleece from Wal-Mart.  And no matter the price of the materials, baby poopy stains, stinks, and generally makes a mess.

And lastly…$6M for baby photos?  Of what?  Little wrinkly babies?  Let’s face it, newborns pretty much look the same.  They may have different color skin depending on their ethnicity, but they’re usually wrinkled little monkey-looking things.  Hey, I’ve had two babies, and while I thought they were the most beautiful babies in the world (and they were…I dare JLo to produce babies as beautiful as mine), the truth is that they were also little wrinkly, red-faced, slobbering lumps.  You know why?  Because they’re BABIES.  This practice of doling out small fortunes to celebs who are already full of themselves just for some baby snapshots is the most greedy, ridiculous thing I’ve seen yet (and I’m not just talking about JLo and Marc here).

Can’t Marc Anthony do something with her?  He’s never said anything (he’s probably too scared) but I’d hope he’d be embarrassed by his wife’s ostentationess.

But, having said all that, I do wish her a good delivery and healthy babies.  I just wish she’d grow up and live in the real world, not Jenniferland.

I’ll personally give $100 of my hard-earned money (and to me, that’s a huge amount) to the charity of choice of any celebrity who will come out of their house to greet the assembled paparazzi throng (behind a gate or fence, of course), ask if they’d like to see the baby, and then bring out Junior for photos.  They can stand at a reasonable distance for a few minutes (again, probably behind a gate or fence…gotta have a barrier between the paps and the baby), and then go inside.  Or they can snap a picture of Little Missy, print off a bunch of snapshot-sized prints, and go hand them to the press outside.  No big money, no huge fanfare, and it wouldn’t look like they’re greedily selling their kids for cash that they don’t need anyway.

I’ll start holding my breath now.

That’s because everyone’s favorite nottie, Paris Hilton, has been banned from the Oscars.

Yep, you read it correctly…Paris has been given the old heave-ho by Academy Awards organizers and told that she’s not wanted there…mainly because her latest film The Hottie and the Nottie totally tanked at the box office, bringing in about $25,000 (or $225 per theater showing it).  I mean, how far down on the level of bad do you have to descend to be completely and utterly snubbed by the very people who are as close to your peers as you’ll ever have?

The Daily Star said it best, I can’t possibly put it any better than this, and I’m not even going to try:

Paris Hilton’s fairy godmother has furnished her with a £2million [$3.9M USD] outfit for the Oscars.

But the wonky-eyed Cinderella won’t be going to the ball.

The blonde irritant, 27, has been leaking her eyes all over ugly sister Nicky, 24, after being refused a chance to get her publicity fix at the swish ceremony next Sunday.

Ever the presumptuous and stingy carbuncle, Paris blagged a bum-clenchingly expensive dress and diam-onds from designer Kira Plastinina.

But her latest movie The Hottie And The Nottie has been voted the worst in history by users of film bible IMDB. So organisers of the ceremony have pointed out that giving her an invite would be like sending Jim Davidson a VIP ticket to a Gay Pride party.

Our man in the pumpkin said: “She cried hot, salty tears when she was banned from the Oscars.

“She’s desperate to be taken seriously as an actress and hoped she would be able to network with the film bods.”

Unfortunately, Paris’s greatest screen glory was in night-vision in her infamous 2004 grumble flick 1 Night In Paris which she made with her equally wooden ex Rick Salomon, 40. Rather gallingly for Paris, she actually had to do real work to promote her latest offering to the silver screen, which sees her push the boundaries of character acting as the “Hottie”.

A gossiping mouse squeaked: “She’s tempted to go to the parties afterwards, but might wear her trademark brunette wig to save her dignity.”

So if any Prince Charmings find a glass slipper by Chateau Marmont sniff the OdorEater for traces of Paris.

PWNED!

Paris Hilton decided to celebrate her birthday this past weekend in the only way she knows how…dressed as a hooker and letting it all hang out:

The night began at the Pussycat Lounge where Paris, clad in black lingerie-inspired Pussycat attire, took the stage to introduce the Dolls. Our favorite socialite party gal sauntered around the joint, enjoyed the girls’ performance and was presented with a birthday cake.

For Part Two of Paris’ birthday spectacular, the revelers, including sis Nicky, moved on to Pure — but not before a change of outfit, of course! As we were saying, everyone moved on to Pure, where they spent the rest of the night living it up, dancing and toasting — celebrating Paris being Paris in all her glory.

Oh snap.  Can we give it a rest?  The woman just turned 27 years old, and she’s still out shaking it like a dog in heat (and she should know).

I mean, I’m not against having a good time every once in a while.  And I’m not anti-birthday-party, nor am I some sort of prude.  But come on…Paris is a lot closer to 30 than she is to 18, and while I’m not suggesting that she go out and stock up on shapeless sweatpants, Naturalizers, and granny panties, and I’m not suggesting that 27 is the beginning of orthopedic stockings and old age homes (I’m over a decade older and I still feel like a teenager inside), there comes a time when things like this just look desperate and cheap.  “Celebrating Paris being Paris”?  What is that?  Celebrating being a bad animal parent, celebrating STD’s, celebrating that her family is turning out more winners than the Hogans…what exactly are we celebrating?

Srsly.  It’s just an excuse for Paris to go out once again (does she ever stay home?) and party.  Don’t let her fool you, because this is her REAL job…promoting herself.  There are delusional young women and girls out there who look up to Paris as some sort of role model, and she’s got to perpetuate that party lifestyle so they’ll keep buying her products and making her rich (but apparently nottie going to see her movie).  It just so happens that her job is exactly the thing she loves to do the most.  How handy that Paris’ love of the wild party is exactly what her job description is!

Paris has no idea what it means to be a truly free, grown-up woman.  True women know that less is always more…we know that we’re free to act as we choose, but we carefully choose how to act.  We’ve no need to put it all on display, because we don’t need constant affirmation from others that we’ve got it.  We know we’ve got it.  Paris…sorry, she ain’t got it.

To me, this photo sums up Paris Hilton:  Dressed in her underwear and striking an affected pose while people gawp and grope.  What a legacy to leave behind.

Faced with slow ticket sales and not much interest in her concerts, Avril Lavigne held a press conference to try to get people to pay attention to the fact that yes, as of March 5 she is going on tour:

More energy and her biggest stage show ever is what Avril Lavigne is promising on her upcoming two-month-long “The Best Damn Tour,” which kicks off March 5 in Victoria, Canada.

“My inspiration for this record, a lot of it came from the live show and knowing what kind of songs I wanted to play live,” Lavigne told reporters today (Feb. 11) during a teleconference. “I wanted to play fast, fun songs. I love playing songs like ‘Sk8er Boi’ onstage because the crowd just reacts, and I love it when everyone is freaking out and jumping.

“My last record, ‘Under My Skin,’ was pretty mid-tempo and darker, so every song was like bri

Hey, wanna ride bikes?

Yesterday, as most of the United States watched Eli Manning and the New York Giants take down Tom Brady and the New England Patriots, New Orleans (any more “New” names?  Okay then, we can continue) took time out to have a parade, and guess who reigned as Bacchus?

Do you know what it means to be king in Orleans? Hulk Hogan, named King Bacchus by the Carnival group that first brought celebrities to lead their parades, said Friday that he was just starting to. 

“This is better than winning the World Wrestling Federation championship and slamming Andre the Giant!” he told a small crowd of patients, parents, doctors and other employees in a parking lot outside Children’s Hospital. “It’s just now hitting me how big this is and what an honor it is.”

He styled next to a huge plaque naming him Bacchus, god of wine and mirth, held up by krewe captain Owen “Pip” Brennan. […]

Each year the Krewe of Bacchus’ celebrity king visits Children’s Hospital to meet the patients. In a statement released Tuesday by Bacchus officials, the celebrity wrestler said one reason he accepted the offer to lead this year’s parade was Bacchus’ relationship with the hospital.

Well.  Isn’t that nice.  He can do good things for children in the hospital (and let me say that I in no way am belittling visiting children in the hospital), but he can’t take care of his own children or help them grow up to do things like, oh I don’t now, accept personal responsibility?  Or perhaps not supply alcohol to a party that teenage son Nick was at the day of his accident which put his friend, Marine John Graziano, in the hospital with life-threatening injuries?  You know the accident where Nick was found to have alcohol in his bloodstream?  (Now, before anyone jumps my butt, I didn’t say Hulk gave his son a beer, just that he supplied alcohol to a party that his son was at.  Any other conclusions, you’ll have to draw yourself.  You see, I have to say these things so that certain people can have what I did and did not say made clear to them.)

Chairman of the Crewe of Bacchus King Committee Michael Hunt (yeah, if I had that name I would want to be called “Michael”, too) defended his choice of 1980’s has-been wrestler and drunken-driver-father as its celebrity monarch:

Hunt is clearly frustrated with the knee-jerk criticism of the selection.

“People don’t know what goes into the process,” Hunt said. “We don’t sit around toasting marshmallows. It’s a very exact science.”

Hunt explained that he and a group of advisers begin by throwing celebrity names around. Then, he said, “as arrogant as it sounds, I deem if they’re worthy.” […]

Hunt wishes the public would trust his selection instincts. He points out that last year he presented TV mobster James Gandolfini at the height of his popularity. Though, he cryptically recalled, Gandolfini “did what most people should never do: believe that they are the god of wine.”

Hunt views the controversy surrounding his selection of Hogan as a perverse plus.

“Running Hulk Hogan is the perfect choice because it incites controversy,” he said. “Controversy isn’t always bad.”

Look up “irony” in the dictionary and you’ll find this.

Sorry, I can’t blame this one on anything but selfishness.  Here’s Brit’s parking in a two handicapped spots on her little jaunt to Petco on Wednesday.

And there’s nothing further I can say, because any further elaboration is totally unnecessary.

If Dunkin Donuts offered ME money to shill their crappy-ass coffee, well I’d drink that stuff until my pee was a regular automatic drip. But not Rachel Ray, NOOOOO, she’s too good to drink the coffee of the people who help pay her bills, and put frumpy clothes on her back.

I feel stupid even covering this story, because honestly there really ARE more important things in life than bratty celebs biting the hand that feeds them, but since Rachel Ray is so incredibly annoying, grating, irritating and dumpy, I gave in to my inner beeyotch and went for the easy target.

According to New York Magazine’s “Grub Street” sources caught Rachel having a celebesque moment:

So a friend of mine was on set last week as Rachael Ray filmed her latest Dunkin’ Donuts commercial. According to her, Rachael stormed onto the set and snapped at everyone. Not news, I know, everyone knows she’s actually a gigantic asshole. BUT! I am also told she took one sip of her Dunkin’ Donuts coffee, yelled “What is this shit? Get me MY coffee,” and would not continue until she was given “her” coffee — i.e., Starbucks.

The article also suggested perhaps it this type of “uppity” behavior which has lead to a mass exodus from her magazine, Everyday With Rachel Ray.

On a more personal note, if I want a damn donut I’ll go to Krispy Kreme to get my lard on, but everyone knows you don’t go to Dunkin’ Donuts for their coffee. Or the donuts I guess, but definitely NOT the coffee.

This is a perfect example of the lack of integrity within our advertising and marketing world. These celebs will whore themselves out for a buck, even if they don’t believe in/or use the product themselves. WTF?

Why is Rachel Ray famous? Can anyone explain this?

The First Church Of Our Lady Of The Massive Head is going to get its own network, starting in 2009.  I can hear the flocking Oprahloonies singing and genuflecting in rapturous praise from here:

Ms. Winfrey and Discovery Communications said on Tuesday that they would jointly create OWN, the Oprah Winfrey Network, a cable television channel to make its debut in 2009 on what is now the Discovery Health Channel. Discovery Health is available in more than 70 million homes.

The new channel will not initially carry “The Oprah Winfrey Show,” the top-rated syndicated daytime talk show featuring Ms. Winfrey as host. But Ms. Winfrey said that she had the option to end that show in 2010 or 2011 and could move the talk show to the new channel then.

“Eventually that will happen, we hope,” Ms. Winfrey said in a conference call with reporters on Tuesday.

Oh, trust me, I hope that too.  Maybe she’ll get her own satellite package and then I can opt out of having her show on my television at all.  Not that I ever watch her televised cultfest, because I’m afraid whatever laser beams originate from the broadcast will shoot into my home and I’ll become a brain-dead Oprahloonie too, unable to do anything except what The Great Massive-Headed One orders me to do.

She is excited about this new venture, mainly because she’ll have control over Every. Little. Thing, unlike when she was involved with Oxygen, where she had to, gasp, be responsible to somebody other than herself:

Asked about the difference between Oxygen, which was sold to NBC in October for $925 million, and the latest venture, Ms. Winfrey said Oxygen “did not reflect my voice.” That assertion is subject to interpretation, however; Ms. Winfrey was host of a 12-part series called “Oprah Goes Online” on Oxygen. The show was sort of a primer on the Internet. She also was frequently referred to as a co-founder of the channel in news reports at the time.

“I was not a participant in the development of the channel,” she said. “That’s why after a couple of board meetings I took myself off the board.”

With the Oprah Winfrey Network, “I will have editorial control,” she said. “I have a vision for what we want to accomplish with this network.”

Dun-dun-dunnnnnnn.  That is Oprah-ese for she wants every man, woman, and child within satellite reach to not be able to walk, talk, breathe, eat, sleep, buy books, raise children, wipe their behinds, or have sex unless it is done according to her “voice”.  Let’s face it, there are people out there who do everything according to the First Book Of Oprah, Chapter One, Verse One:  “Thou shalt have no other thoughts other than mine.”

Oh, and if it couldn’t possibly get any better, guess what?  It does!

In addition to continuing her syndicated talk show, Ms. Winfrey said she would also continue to produce programming for other outlets. A new reality show, “Oprah’s Big Give,” is scheduled to begin on ABC in March.

Gag gag gag.  I wish I hadn’t eaten my supper before reading this article.  Why does she feel the need to document and chronicle every so-called charitable thing she does with cameras?  So she can pull out the footage to prove just what a wonderful and generous person she is?  I’ll bet the people who have been recipients of her so-called “charity” beg to differ, especially those who have been on her show.  She needs to shut up and take notes from Johnny Depp.

And oh the humanity…the Discovery Channel?  Home of the almighty fine and deliciously yummy Mike Rowe?  Perish the thought!  A dirty job, indeed!

Celine Dion is about as opposite of the musical spectrum for what I call “good” music as it gets, but I give her props for being the consummate professional. Working the Vegas circuit for almost half a decade is not for the weak or mild. You have to have serious chops and ambition to work that hard. So, my hats off to Mz. Dion as she finishes her successful run in the entertainment capital of the world Las Vegas, bringing in almost $440 while performing in a special theater built just for her A New Day show at Ceasar’s palace.

Bette Midler is set to replace her with a production titled The Showgirl Must Go On. Now that I’d watch.

Now, please go back to Canada, enjoy your life, raise your son, and perhaps cut his hair.