Jersey.Girl.Genius

Gorgeous George

Ginbom's thoughts on George and Amal's baby news.  

Mom on clooney's twins

Brows, Eyes and Botox, Oh My

Ginny's weighed in on Renee's new face.  Prepare yourself - the expert has spoken.

Ginny on Renee

 

Keep Calm and Suckle On.

Holy fu**ing buckleberries! The royal baby is here! The royal baby is here! 

I wonder how The Dutchess feels about the fact that her vagina is currently trending on twitter?  Better yet, I wonder how Pippa feels about her sister's twatter on twitter?  Pippa's on twitter and she's not pleased by all of the chitter about her twatter.  Now that the baby is here, let's all just take a deep breath and jam your hype.  Eat a crumpet, put on a jumper and don't get your royal bathers in a bunch.

I've learned a few things about proper celebrity baby naming procedure from the Shiloh's, Sparrows and Banjo's of the world, but naming a royal is a horse of a different colour.  Celebrities, in particular rockers and A-list actors, tend to gravitate towards names with an overzealous combination of helpless baby animals, cities or states and a Benjamin Moore color palette.  Place names from above categories into a greasy fedora once worn by Good Charlotte frontman Joel Madden and shake.  Whatever emerges in whatever order you draw the names will be the moniker of your next child.  Presto! Meet Halifax Fawn Dakota or Poppyberry Breeze Bemidji.

To name a royal, there is a lot more history to consider, however.

The following is an actual conversation between Kate & William, whilst lying in bed, reading The Sun on their Royal Kindles:

William:  How about Cnut?

Kate: Cnut?  Are you mad?

William:  What?  Perfectly respectable name.  He was the former King of England from 1016-1035

Kate:  Cnut?  King Canute? Do you think that sounds regal?  I don't like how you can re-arrange the letters to spell the royal twattage, for one.  I veto Cnut.

William: Royal Twattage.  Right then.  I hadn't considered that.  Do you fancy Henry?  Very regal, very strong, what do you reckon?

Kate:  I have two words for you.  Tudor Dynasty.

William:  What about James?

Kate: Too Scottish.

William: George?

Kate:  Lisp.

William: Richard?

Kate: If he goes to University in America, they'll call him Dick.

William: Alfred?

Kate:  I've never known a well liked or coordinated Alfred.  Alfred is the last child picked for Polo, he's not an heir.

William: Aethelwulf? From House of Essex?

Kate: I don't think I'd shag anyone called Aethelwulf, sorry loves.

William:  We could call him Blue.  Royal Blue, perhaps?

Kate: Too pedestrian. 

There are names that say heir to the throne, and there are names that say heir to the greeter with nice abs at the Abercrombie and Fitch store.  I have a hunch we won't have a royal Hunter, Addison, Ace, Maxwell, Sparrow, Jayden or Blake on our hands.  The modern duo may pick something unexpected for the child, but it will still need to sound commanding. My royal pounds are on the name Spencer, in honor of Princess Diana.  But that's just my non-royal hunch.

The lambs have most definitely not stopped screaming.

Jodie Jodie Jodie.  I love Jodie Foster.  I always have, always will.  From the moment I saw her in Stealing Home, and the twenty or so times I've watched it since, I knew she was like me.  I have always  known (or, hoped or suspected, rather) that she was gay.  In 1991, I dyed my hair to match Clarice Starling's reddish brown locks, perfected the southern twang, wondered if this meant I could really and truly do anything I wanted to in life. If she could do it, I certainly could. 

My gaydar, along with trusty gay sensors on million of other fans all over the world, have always set off the rainbow buzzer.  Was it the way she dragged that period frock of hers around in Sommersby?  The lingering glances between her and Kelly Mcgillis during her Accused days, or the way that I saw right through to the gay-in-her tay-tay in the wind?  Gay, straight, it had nor has any bearing on her acting chops or her believability as an actress.  I think you're with me when I say "we knew and we don't care." 

Yet her speech at the Globes last night left me wondering just what in the bloody hell was in that bad batch of pâté she was eating at table 114?  This was like a Sarah Palin gone rogue moment, spurred on by too much moet and 2 slices of bitter pie.  Even Mel Gibson looked slack jawed and vacant in the eyes.  Sure, not everyone has had some whack job attempt to assisinate President Reagan in a sick attempt to get you to notice him.  That would make anyone long for the life of a recluse.  I'll give you that one, Jodie.  But the coming out tease (will she, won't she) was just in poor taste, as was the privacy tirade.  There's a time and a place and it wasn't well chosen.  We get it.  You're a reluctant star.  You feel badly for Kristen Stewart, we read the op-ed, and you identify with her exploited, tortured soul.  You resent the attention and the shinging bright light that has been cast upon you, demanding that you reveal more of yourself.  Wave that gay flag, Jodie!  Wave it proud!  Wait a minute.  Is she going to wave it ... seriously, she looks like she's about to wave it.  Oh god, the Publicist is going to lose it.  Are those freedom rings in her left hand?  No.  Wait for it ... Wait for it ... I think I see rainbow stripes peeking out from under the podium .... here it comes .... here it comes! ... And no.  She hates flags and her monther is dying of dementia.  I'm depressed.

As far as award show acceptance speeches go, on a scale of 1 - 10.  1 being classless and tacky and 10 being anything that comes out of Judi Dench's mouth, I give her speech a 5.  It was equal parts honest and confusing.  Equally as off course as it was direct.  Did I drink too much Moet?  This is the speech you didn't hear last night.  And maybe someday, it's the one we will hear.  She has some Oscar gold left in her yet.  That is, if she isn't done with acting entirely. 

Jodie's Speech: Take Deux.

Thank you, Robert.  Thank you so much. (crowd starting to settle)

This is such an incredible honor.  (applause dying out now) I want to sincerely thank the Hollywood Foreign Press Association for this award.  When I first heard that I was going to be this year’s recipient, I thought about what a fearless pioneer Cecil B DeMille was.  And to be thought worthy of this achievement, I am truly humbled to be standing here tonight with all of you.  Looking back at some of those clips, I’m reminded not only of the power of cosmetic dentistry (laughter) but at how many lifelong friends, trusted colleagues and mentors I’ve worked with over the last 47 years.  In 1975, Robert DeNiro taught me about method acting – over lunch, at a deli on 43^rd street, while showing me how to light a cigarette properly.  He taught me that acting wasn’t just about “being natural, being yourself” as I had been taught up to that point.  I learned that I could bring depth, intrigue, mystery and interest to the character I was portraying, and I never forgot the lesson.  I want to thank you for that.  I also want to thank Marty Scorsese, my friend; you’re an incredible human being, and one of the most genuine, gifted directors I’ve ever worked with. I would do it all over again in a heartbeat if you ask me to.    Tony Hopkins, Jonathan Demme, thank you for your kind and generous spirit.  

To all the other actors, directors, producers, crews I’ve had the pleasure of working with all these years, thank you for helping me to enhance my craft, to bring my best to every role, and to challenge myself in ways that I didn’t know possible.  To my children, who are here with me tonight, there is no role that brings me greater joy than being your mother.  I love you with every fragment of my soul.  To my own tireless crew, my publicist, my manager of 30+ years, everyone at table 222, you know I would not be here without you.  I am forever grateful. 

Cecil B DeMille, aside from being a superb actor, was also a master of silent film direction.  I wanted to take a minute to talk about the art of silence.  We live in a world today, which comes as no surprise to many of you, where our every move is documented.  Where our love lives and loves lost are tabloid fodder, our failures, our fashion faux pas, more so than our greatest achievements, fuel a seemingly insatiable craving of the masses.  I know that I cannot change this and I don’t set out to.   I unfortunately I know all too well that there are some people who are willing to go to any length to get your attention.  Despite the odds, I have always strived to live a very private life, to keep what’s most important to me close to my chest.  To fight and claw to protect what is sacred and cherish that there are some aspects of your life that no one is entitled a window into.  This silence is not to be mistaken for shame or for hiding.  I have always been proud of who I am.  Yet if by my declaring to a global television audience of millions that I’ve been out of the closet as a proud lesbian woman for more than 25 years helps a young girl or boy struggling with their identity, then this is my true lifetime achievement reward. 

On that note, thank you Cydney Bernard, for being my brave co-parent, ex-partner in love yet my true, lifelong friend.  To my mom who may not have understood much of this tonight, I love you, I love you, I love you.  You are a wonderful mother, and I hope you know this and trust this and take this love with you when you are finally ready to let go. 

Celebrity Baby Naming: 101

If we were rock stars, this would all be so much easier.  And no, I'm not referring to a never-ending selection of tight pants or on-call groupies.  The rich and famous get a free pass when it comes to the monikers they choose for their offspring.  Why is that?  When Cher named her son Blue (he now goes by Phillips Exeter Blue I) was there a grandmother amongst them who hung her head in shame? 

You want to name him what?  Blue?  What the hell is blue?  No one should name a baby blue - that's the color you hope to avoid when the thing comes out, for Christ sake!  I just knew that Gregg was smoking the mary jane.

Due to my many years of E Channel & Bravo TV wisdom, coupled with years of People magazine browsing, I think I've come up with a tried and true formula for naming celebrity babies. It's a lot like Yahtzee, actually. 

Step 1:  Choose a city or state.  Need not be in the US. 

Brooklyn, Halifax, Montana, Winnetka, Peoria, Saskatoon, Bruges, Columbus, Burlington

Step 2:  Select 9 colors that might also double as swatches for Benjamin Moore paints.

Blush, Boysenberry, Slate, Midnight at the Oasis, Sunburst, Peppercorn Fiesta, Sweet Corn, Blossom, Safari

Step 3:  Choose a helpless baby animal.

Fawn, Fledgling, Kit, Calf, Farrow, Cub, Foal, Joey, Pup

Step 4:  Place all of the above in a tragically hip hat and shake. 

Continue to select names until you've selected one color, one city/state, or one city/state and one helpless baby animal.  In no time, you'll be Introducing Halifax, Safari and Peppercorn Fiesta Farrow.  In my research, I've discovered that step three can also be replaced with a musical instrument or a fruit and/or vegetable, like so:

Sunburst Banjo, Midnight Plumb, Burlington Rhubarb, Sweet Corn Pan Flute.

Look out Rosie Pope, there's a new baby naming Sheriff in town!  Now auditioning for a gay male assistant and/or Meshach Taylor, who played Hollywood in 1987's Mannequin.  I wonder if he's available?

Rachel Zoe Pregnant, Will Name Kid Venti

According to inside sources, aka, the Starbucks Barista on 52nd and Broadway, Zoe is like totally pregs.  "She's switched to decaf, something that I've never seen her do before.  Normally, she can drink about 20 Venti's in a single sitting," chirped Cherelle Lockwood, Barista to the stars. "Oh, and she also asked for a muffin ... I'd only seen her eat Altoids before today ..."

So how exactly did this happen?

JGG was able to reach Zoe's husband, Rodger Berman, for comment.  When we spoke with Berman, he was in the couple's LA penthouse, in the middle of cutting nipple guards for (Jen) Garner's upcoming SAG Awards gown.

Berman:  Well, bascially, it was totally bananas. (Berman speaks to Zoe and muffles the receiver, but it's audible ... hon, these nipple guards need to be the size of peppermint patties?)

JGG:  Can you elaborate a bit more?  The sex was bananas, or the fact that you had sex was bananas?

Berman:  Well, yeah, the fact that we were in the same room together was bananas.  Rachel is bionic.  She travels all the time and I spend a lot of time re-arranging her shoe closets.

JGG:  What inspired the romance?

Berman:  Well, I had been watching You Tube videos of Hugh Jackman's performance in Boy From Oz when Rachel walked in wearing an Alexander McQueen tuxedo jacket.  The rest is kind of a blur. 

JGG:  Any ideas as to what you'll name the future fashion mogul?

Berman:  Rachel totally dies for Chanel, so we may name him Lagerfeld and call him "Loggie" for short, but I think Venti is the frontrunner right now.  Starbucks is a big sponsor of the show and we get an extra 5 million is we name him after one of the featured drinks.  Macchiato was already taken.

JGG:  Anything you hope to pass on to the little one, any words of wisdom?

Berman:  Not really.  Well, actually, yes.  I hope the kid has my hair. 

 

 

 

Bullock's Got A Friend in Jersey Ginny

Ginny thinks Jesse James and all the other "skeevy" guys out there need to learn to keep it in their pants.  Yet another amazing, record-breaking voicemail left by my Jersey mom.  Gotta love her, the woman has a heart of gold.  This one's over the three-minute mark, but worth every precious second.  Enjoy.

Mom's losing sleep over Sandy