The Awful Truth

David Livingston/Getty Images

Poor Mac. Babe just posted bail, but, honeys, was it a long time in coming. Let's see, Mackenzie's spent two days behind bars so far for her coke-and-heroin arrest at LAX yesterday. Went through hell just to get $10,000 scrapped together for bail. And let's see, her dad's estate is worth many millions of dollars and provides residuals of around $5 mil a year, at least, I'm told by musical experts.

Dad John Phillips, of Mamas and the Papas fame, owned "half to a quarter share of a lot of their hits," relayed a top music source, "and a few others, including the Beach Boy's "Kokomo." Gosh, stepmom Michelle, half sis Chynna and sis Bijou hoggin' it all for themselves? Unlikely on the latter, as B was one of the few Mac supporters who showed up in Van Nuys to help out her troubled sibling, who has a long history of relapsing into druggie black holes. How sad there's yet another one going down for Mackenzie.

And if these falling-off episodes go in threes, just like celebrity deaths always do, wonder who's next in luckless line behind Tatum and Michelle? Readers, any guesses?

Back at the hardly glam Van Nuys jail (no Bev Hills Winona Ryder-style law torture for this broad!) and regarding the rather small bail M.P. had to post, one of the legal types present bitched:

"It is such a small amount that it reveals to me that it is not about the finances. It may be about personal punishment," said the legalese insider. "Some people decide to leave their loved ones in jail."

Hey, didn't the family Hilton try to pull this admonishing bull with son Barron, when he got pulled over for boozy driving? Yeah, that little lesson worked out really well.

Phillips is scheduled to appear at the Airport Courthouse on La Cienega at 8:30 a.m. on Friday, to answer for the felony charge.

Jim Spellman/Getty Images

Just had a li'l instant messaging tête-a-tête with an A.T. snooper who got an inside (and slightly insane) scoop of Mariah Carey's on-set bonkers behavior during the horrific Hawaiian music vid shoot for "I'll Be Lovin' U Long Time," surely the only song title to reference a movie quote delivered by a Vietnamese prostitute. Well, at least until Lindsay Lohan's next album. Check out the totally true and awful antics from someone who had to live through it...

MimiBlabber08: My friend works on a bunch of famous pop videos, and I ran into him and asked him how he was doing.

MimiBlabber08: He said he just worked on the worst music video of his life—Mariah Carey's "I'll Be Lovin' U Long Time."

MimiBlabber08: I asked him what it was like working with Mariah.

MimiBlabber08: And he said, "She's crazy as a loon."

MimiBlabber08: "Totally nuts."

MimiBlabber08: I was like, "Why, what did she do?"

MimiBlabber08: And he pauses and lowers his voice and says, "She has a midget!"

MimiBlabber08: My eyes popped open so wide that dust got in it and I couldn't see right the rest of the day.

MimiBlabber08: I was like, "What do you mean? Just like a purse?"

MimiBlabber08: And he said, "The entire time, she drinks this shitty screw bottle of pinot noir. She would be drinking out of this glass and whenever the glass would be empty, she'd hand it over to a midget standing nearby."

That's not it, folks. Keep reading for more mind-boggling Mimi mishaps, beyond midgets:

Keep Reading

Jeff Frank/ZUMAPress.com, Jemal Countess/Getty Images, Alexandria Wyman/Getty Images

Another day, another drama with the Lohan fam. Can't they be like every other dysfunctional American family and argue about all their personal probs on one fabulous D-list reality show together? Do we really have to have all these platforms and factions? Such the headache.

Sam and Lindsay launched a double bitch-attack on their MySpace blogs against daddy Lohan being an anti-Samite. But hey—before we get to the hater goss to come—ain't writing a blog post the same damn thing as Mikey Lohan blabbing to reporters? A blog's no longer an outlet for you to vent with just your personal pals. It's a form of media, and you knew every goss org would pick it up and repost your daddy attacks. Don't think you're any better than M.L. You just chose a different format for your bitching about family trubs.

Why doncha take the Jennifer Aniston high road and not say a word about the whole mess—and get your friends to do the back-talking for ya?

Or buy a marble notebook, decorate it with stickers, and keep your angst in there, if you're so set on keeping so-called private matters private. But we all know—thank heavens—that's not happening. And religion's to blame, really. So much blood's shed around this world over that stupid s--t, we swear.

After all, daddy Lohan's gone on record as stating he doesn't approve of L.L. and S.R. being as intimate as they are due to his religious objections, which is really such BS. And when pops Lohan was asked privately if he had probs with Lindsay and Samantha being a couple, "Oh yeah," was his immediate response, insist these firsthand Lo-witnesses.

So, ya see, Linds-love can take Dina pimping out their family, but not Michael (who's doing the exact same thing by not keeping the kooky clan's differences private), because homophobia's getting thrown in for a little hateful measure.

No wonder the blogging wars are just beginning. Trust us on this one.

—With additional English-screwin' reporting by Becky Bain

Gaz Shirley, PacificCoastNews.com

“We don’t watch The Hills.”

—Spencer Pratt on his and Heidi's TV-viewing habits. Wow, who knew Spence was such a bad actor? Such the shocker! Learn to lie better, baby, you’ll go so much farther in this blondie-backstabbing town, trust

BAUER-GRIFFIN.COM

Just a few months (trust us on this) out of the dating game Jen Aniston already has a new man interested in her. Sure, he's twice her age and married, but beggars can't be choosers, can they? Jenny and Woody Allen have shared private time in Bev Hills—now, should Soon-Yi be worried, or ScarJo? Scuttlebutt on the T-town streets is Woods wants to cast Ani-babe in his next flick. No better way to brush off a broken relaysh like showing the world—in a pap-friendly hang city, no less—that you're still a wanted woman, especially desired by every H'wood actor's wish-list director.

Jenny could stand to class up her act again after dating doofuses like Vince Vaughn and Mayer—and starring in failures like Rumor Has It and Friends With Money. The Woodster's next film is rumored to be a romance, like Ani-babe could do anything besides play a romantic lead. Then again, let's give the girl some cred—she was terrific as a terrified teen in Leprechaun.

In fact, let's give Woody a break and write the movie for him, OK? Jennifer Aniston stars as a neurotic single New Yawker who plots the murder of her ex and his beautiful new brunette babe, who happen to live in the high-rise space above hers. She teams up with her landlord, an old Jewish type with black wire-framed specs (W.A.'s supporting part, natch) to sneak into their apartment and murder them by blowing off their impossibly beautiful heads. But things go awry when Jen and her old-man accomplice fall in love, despite a 70-year age difference.

They see a lot of black and white movies, eat too many enchiladas and drink a butt load of wine, and there's a scene where Jenny kisses Courteney Cox in a quick cameo—not because it has anything to do with the plot, but as a way to get people to see the movie. It ends with Jen and her BF breaking up, as most of J.A.'s relationships do, duh. Art imitating life, as always.

—Additional English-screwin' reporting by Becky Bain

Are wedding bells ringing for Justin Timberlake and his hon-bun, Jessica Biel? What puts potential first lady Cindy McCain in dangerously high gear? Plus, is Paris Hilton stalling in more ways than one? Start you gossipy engines in Truth, Lies & Ted...

Lisa O'Connor/ZUMAPress.com

We've decided we hate the beginning of the day as much as Mondays, so, heretofore, we're getting pissed off every damn ayem, so good morning and ef you! Kidding, love you, don't mean it!

Ah, see the kind of crank-a-thon moods those stupidasses Mackenzie Phillips and Matthew McConaughey's mom, Kay, are putting us in? Really, the crap they're respectively pulling—reportedly walking through an airport security check with heroin and coke, and writing about how the daddy of your son passed on while diddling you—make Tatum O'Neal's line about how she bought crack for a movie part seem downright genius.

First of all, I knew something was up with Phillips when we did a stage reading of Valley of the Dolls (she played Miriam Polar, I played some queen named Ted Casablanca). Not only did Phillips fall down onstage, trample everyone's lines and forget her own, she couldn't wait to leave so she could haul ass across the country to go hook up with some twentysomething. Sounds hot, but it wasn't. It was sad.

Almost as tragic is a celeb's mom writing about how she was screwing the dad of said celeb (without whom, by the by, she wouldn't have a book deal in the first place, as who cares what stage moms like Lynne Spears have to say about their otherwise designing, opportunistic lives, anyway?). So, do we really need to know it was coitus interruptus rigor mortis for Matthew's dad?

And if we do, shouldn't some creep like me be delivering that nasty biz? I mean, I broke that drunk-off-his-butt stuff M.M. just pulled down in Nicaragua. Kinda makes sense now, doesn't it, that Matty was friggin' celebrating the fact that he was caught down there with his toes toasted? His own mother uses her husband's sensational passing for a book deal.

And these famous folks say we're heathens? Gimme an effin' break.

Frederick Breedon/Getty Images, Gregg DeGuire/Getty Images

Billy-Ray Cyrus, visiting the vet with his pooch in Studio City. BRC wore designer jeans and a designer shirt, natch, what the hell did ya expect with all that Hannah Montana money? Goodwill threads? B.R.'s mutt had long black and brown hair, so very snuggable. Billy-R. asked another vetgoer, in his delicious Southern twang, what was wrong with her pup, so sweet. Our vet eyes kept thinking during their canine convo, "You're daughter is worth five jagillion dollars." She also mentioned he smelled real nice. That must be some strong cologne to smell it apart from all that dog in the joint. Also of the four-legged variety was...

Ben Affleck, lunching away at Shutters on the Beach in Santa Monica on a Monday afternoon. B.A. dressed casual, havin' a bro-to-bro brunch with a non-Damon dude, looking totally scruffy but still sexy said our snack-stuffing eyes. Question is, where were Jen and Violet? Not surprising, they were nowhere to be seen.

—With additional English-screwin' reporting by Becky Bain and Taryn Ryder

NBC Photo: Paul Drinkwater

Check out tomorrow's Truth, Lies & Ted for some great man crap the wannabe first lady pulled in college, babes. Great stuff. If you’ve never really trusted that bullet-proofed coifed blonde’s ways but just couldn’t put your finger on why, I’ve got scoop for you on how daddy’s little operator has been vroom-vrooming it for a long time.

And now I’m hearing yet more tattle-tale biz on the broad—and how she behaves around the opposite sex—from more recent, grown-up first-handers. Hubby J maybe isn’t the only questionable character in that union, after all. Not at all. Nervous, Cindy? You should be.

Jordan Strauss/WireImage.com

Fret not Nick Lachey and Vanessa Minnillo fans—all five of ya. Those whispers that the squeaky duo are going through a rough patch are simply untrue, says a friend of the annoyingly perky couple. False, mind you!

'Nessa was seen out in New Yawk with a mystery dude this week while promoting her new flick Disaster Movie. (The fact alone that Van has resorted to paltry parody movies shows her career is in mucho more trouble than her relationship.) Howev, a pal tells us that the dark-haired dude—who's gay, so breathe easy—is a Survivor alum V.M. met through her mutual Survivor amigo. Goes to show ya: Reality-show stars who can't do better stick together.

Says a tattler (apologist is more like it) on Nick and Vanessa, they're "Just fine. They're completely in love." So what was with Man-hon's "friendly" dinner with former flame Orlando Bloom a couple of months ago? Or Nick's pics with all those college chicks at Matt Leinart's? Whatev, it's the 21st century, we're down with an open type of relaysh. What we have a bigger prob with is a couple who's completely devoid of personality, tho.

—With additional English-screwin' reporting by Becky Bain and Taryn Ryder

image.net

Tilda Swinton, Frances McDormand, Brad Pitt and George Clooney are bookended by the Coen Brothers while promoting Burn After Reading at the Venice Film Festival. They all may be a part of the same flick, but they fer sure ain't sharing a similar fashion sense.

Joel and Ethan are behind-the-scenes director types, so we'll give their humdrum outfits a pass (tho ya think you could sport a tie or something when screening your movie?) Francie McD, howevs, looks like a schoolteacher at a liberal arts college in the '50s—that, or a World War II nurse. If only she had a nice retro 'do to match, but no, babe didn't even pack a comb in her carry-on.

Brad looks like a shiny pimp made out of limestone, and Cloonz could dress up as the Easter bunny and still look doable, that's never been his problem. Trouble is, the dull-colored suits are getting way boring, Georgie-Boy. We'd love to see ya sparkle with some hot pink hot pants for once. Take a fashion tip from slightly creepy and always kooky Tildy, who looks like she took a tumble in a sushi restaurant and had a bucket load of roe splashed on her shoulders.

This sextet is far from sexy, more so ridiculous standing next to one another. Prolly fits their quirkfest film down to a T.

—With additional English-screwin' reporting by Becky Bain

Getty Images, Flynetonline.com

It’s Michael Jackson’s big 5-0 this Friday, and we’re wondering what on earth to get the guy who has everything—besides a career, a good rep, a working schnoz and enough moola to keep Neverland Ranch open for business. We hope his legion of lawyers sends over a birthday bouquet, because they sure can afford it after all the cash they’ve made off their client over the last few decades.

M.J.’s big day comes right after another iconic pop star, Madonna, entered her golden years looking buff and bangin’, about to embark on another sold-out world tour. And right on the cusp of that alleged A-Rod romance! Madge still gets tangled up with would-be-lover rumors, 'cause people totally believe this sex siren can get all the guys drooling, even while turning 50.

Sorry, can’t say the same for Jacko—M.J. looked 50 (if not older) at least five records ago, so what’s the point in a throwing a party? Let’s just celebrate the fact the dude’s made it through an abusive childhood, being set on fire, an infinite amount of plastic surgery, even more trials and being married to Lisa Marie Presley—and he’s still kickin’.

That’s more drama than most people could handle in a lifetime, let alone just 50 years. We think it’ll be another half century before plastic surgery gets advanced enough to make him appear human again. In the meantime, Mike, can we gift ya another mask?

Oh, by the legal by, just checked in with the Los Angeles district attorney’s office. I thought maybe, just maybe, they’d have a little prezzie for you, like, perhaps another molestation charge or damning deposition (I’ve read plenty of them, trust). But alas, nope. The pissy legal eagles said no new M.J. kiddie trials or cases were currently on the calendar. Maybe for your 51st, darling?

—With additional English-screwin’ reporting by Becky Bain.