A nasty cold kept me from my advice-giving duties last week and wow, did my immune system choose one hell of a week to crash and burn like the Hindenburg. Those crazy celebrities are just running wild out there like this is Lord of the Flies! There are simply too many wayward celebs who need my guidance this week and so I give you…Meg Gives Advice to Famous People: The Lightning Round. And…go!! [Read more →]
Do you remember the indie horror film “The Blair Witch Project”? Remember how frustrating it was to watch the three victims make stupid mistake after stupid mistake? And remember the end of the film when they found that abandoned house in the woods and, exercising no common sense whatsoever, actually went inside? Remember how by that point you were so annoyed with the whole thing that instead of shouting “Girl, don’t go in there!” you shook your head and said “They deserve whatever they’re going to get.”? If you do remember, well, then you know exactly how I feel about Kat Von D dating Jesse James. [Read more →]
Before I hand out my weekly dose of celebrity advice, I’d like to thank the great people of New York for realizing that, as always, I was right and for choosing to view Manhattan over Serendipity at the Central Park Film Festival last week. I was worried but you pulled through for me. You’re a good bunch, NYC. Even you, Staten Island! Now, let’s talk about someone whom I am very proud to say is not a New Yorker: Paris Hilton. [Read more →]
By now, my faithful readership (all three of you) knows what this column is all about. Celebrities are crazy, and need good advice. I am awesome, and give good advice. Everybody wins. Today, though, I feel compelled to share my wisdom with a different type of celebrity: The people of New York City. Individually, we may not be much. Collectively, we possess the star power of Elvis in his heyday and Bono on any day combined. This week, we New Yorkers have the power to harness that brilliance and put it to good use. I am speaking, of course, about the biggest decision facing our city today, the importance of which is even greater than our inevitable future decision whether to re-elect King Bloomberg for a 15th term: The choice of whether to screen Woody Allen’s Manhattan or John Cusack’s Serendipity at the upcoming Viewer’s Choice Night of the Central Park Film Festival. New York, you need to choose Manhattan. [Read more →]
I recently spent a week at the beach with friends. We ate ice cream, we swam, and we drank a truly inestimable amount of red wine. Jealous? You should be. Anyway, my beach read of choice this year was the chick-lit phenom Eat, Pray, Love. Was it good? Not even a little. (I think my friend Kevin’s assessment of the plot says it best: “White people have so many problems!”) Did 300+ pages of pontification get my advice-giving juices flowing? Oh, yes. Those juices flowed like the fat off of a slice of Neapolitan pizza. Maybe, I started to think, the self-absorbed heroine of Expedite, Photograph, Lunge is on to something. Maybe, just maybe, another insanely rich woman out there could benefit from taking a sabbatical to find herself through gelato and yoga. That woman, dear readers, is Jennifer Aniston. [Read more →]
A little update for you faithful readers: Last week, Bristol Palin called off her engagement redux with Levi Johnston, no doubt because she read my advice and realized that, as always, I was totally right. You’re welcome, Bristol. Now let’s see, on whom shall I direct my magic wand of miracle-working advice this week? Ah, yes: Laurence Fishburne, I choose you! [Read more →]
Birds flying high, you know how she feels. Sun in the sky, you know how she feels. Breeze driftin’ on by, you know how she feels. It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life…and LiLo’s feeling good. That’s right, kids, Lindsay Lohan is a free woman. So now that she knows why the caged bird sings…what’s next? There’s been a lot of speculation on what LiLo’s first move should be, post-prison. Sit on Oprah’s couch? Embark on a spiritual retreat? Take a wild, girlish stab at acting? Nay! The question, dear friends, is not what Lindsay should do; it’s who Lindsay should become. [Read more →]
Bristol, Bristol, Bristol. The story of your charmed teenage years could have been taken right off the cover of a dog-eared Sweet Valley High paperback. You met a guy you liked, you had unprotected sex because condoms make Jesus cry, your mother forced you and your swollen belly to make an appearance at the RNC, and then your baby daddy abandoned you, trashed your family in Vanity Fair, and came crawling back with a diamond ring and five pounds of freshly-killed moose meat. I mean, really, what little girl hasn’t dreamt of a future like that? I get it, honey, you fell in love with the dream. And now I’m going to wake you up. Come crawl into Auntie Meg’s lap, Bristol Palin; it’s time for some tough love. [Read more →]
