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Tuesday, September 16, 2003

 

Back in the Saddle Dept.



I apologize to the angry mob of Bunsen fans who were frothing at the mouth for a Monday post and were turned away unsatisfied. By way of apology, I can offer this: I have disappointed people a lot more naked than you.

This, of course, ignores the plight of those of you who were both disappointed and naked. To you: Now you know what it feels like.

And while we're talking about being naked, if you must know why I didn't post Monday, it was because I spent Sunday waiting outside of Jennifer Connelly's trailer on the set of her new movie, on all fours in my natural state save for a saddle, a crude sign promising "Free Jennifer Connelly Pony Rides" pinned to my flank. You don't recover from rent-a-cop baton trauma in a single night, gentle readers.

So as I clear the sweet fog from my head, I offer up the following sequential meditation on the fate of a certain Hollywood Power Couple who have recently canceled their wedding.

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How to Tell That Your Very High Profile Celebrity Engagement is on the Rocks


--You suddenly have a lot more free time to sit around with your high school buddy cum Oscar co-winning writing partner and wait for Miramax to hire someone to ghostwrite you up another award.

--No matter how many times you change the station, it seems that every song on the radio is about a breakup between a square-jawed recovering alcoholic and a full-figured crossover pop/movie star.

--You do not feel even the slightest pang of guilt or fear of discovery while nailing a Canadian exotic dancer named Starlight, even when you could have sworn for a split-second that the strobe light by the stripper pole was actually a paparazzi flashbulb.

--Gossip columns have suddenly started inserting a space in the middle of the cute one-word, combination nickname they'd been using for you and your beloved.

--You're increasingly annoyed that the aftertaste from the nipple glue that held up a very famous, revealing, green Grammy dress has not subsided, leaving you with the nagging suspicion that your bride-to-be's hygiene habits could use a punch-up.

--Suddenly that ample ass on your fiancée is starting to look a lot less "sexy" and a lot more "fat."

--The following two phrases find their way into the same sentence uttered by Michael Musto: "P. Diddy" and "rebound fuck."

--You quote Bunsen on the Tonight Show, but incorrectly site the source as "Bunsen Television" with no indication that your source is a website, letting 10 million potential readers slip through an Internet genius' fingertips. But he's not bitter about it because 10 million new readers would really not change anything in his already wonderful life.

--You can think of nothing else but correcting this error in attribution when you go on the Tonight Show to quote amusing and scathing commentary about the end of your very high profile celebrity engagement. In fact, you choose the one about "rebound fuck" just to make the censors bleep you out as an act of contrition to your Internet puppetmaster.



About this site

This is the internet home of Mark Lisanti, a Los Angeles writer sometimes known as Bunsen. He is the founding editor of Defamer, a weblog about Hollywood, where he now serves in the nebulous capacity of "editor-at-large."
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