Blind Vice... MY GUESS IS...

Ugh. At midnight, your pooch threw up on the designer sofa. Then your man says those crabcakes didn't sit well with him. And you're in the medicine cabinet looking for the damn Alka-Seltzer. All the while, you know the Lincoln Town Car's gonna be waiting for you tomorrow. Oy. And you gotta be camera-ready on top of it! And perky! Really perky!

Yes, the life of a sickeningly popular boob-tube personality is demanding. How does one do it?

With cocaine, you twit. Every dummy knows that, nowadays. It's like any idiot who's halfway rich 'n' famous is back at Studio 54 again--only with less hairspray and jobs to go to in the ayem.


And the above tired-ass, drugged out, fake-smiled act certainly applies to Babe Dimple-Doo. In fact, this scenario fits Ms. D.-Doo so damn well, I'd say it's a miracle some tawdry story about the deceivingly demure dame hasn't surfaced in the tabs already. Gosh, wonder why that is?

Smarty Babe cut a deal, that's why.

Sundry supermarket rags enjoy regular access to BMs. Dimple-Doo's meatloaf recipes, bathroom designs and parlor-room thoughts whenever they so please. But hands off the powder trail! No surprise there. G.P. is all about the très-accessible image, see.

Like I always say, home is where the speeding heartbeat is, right?
- Blind Vice

UM... Let's see... I'll say, Kelly Ripa?



I know I'm right on here. DAMN, I'm good!