It’s the Wonderful World of Perez
Perez Hilton’s been holding out on us–he’s not developing a show, like he told Vanity Fair. He’s taping one even as we speak for VH1. World of Wonder has been following the gangsta of gossip around for a while–here an Adam Corolla, there a Jenna Jameson. But he does drink coffee and answer emails, too. Write and ask him anything.
Marty Kaplan Speaks
Shy, reclusive Marty Kaplan hasn’t been quoted in anything local for at least 10 minutes, so Tom Teicholz takes pity on him and chats him up for The Jewish Journal.
Tom coaxes Marty into answering the age-old question:
So who is Marty Kaplan?
And he takes a couple hundred sugared words to answer. We’re more concise:
He wrote speeches for Walter Mondale and then The Distinguished Gentleman, and here’s Rita Kempley in the Washington Post:
The screenplay is surprisingly commonplace considering that it was written by former Washington insider Marty Kaplan — a Disney executive who used to write Vice President Walter Mondale’s speeches. Of course, if you think about it, The Distinguished Gentleman is about as memorable as one of the Minnesota Democrat’s droning pronouncements.
Sing, You Sinners
And the unstoppable Simon Cowell marches on, sowing the seeds of must-cringe television. His next mission is Celebrity Duets, for FOX (where else?). Real singers are paired with celebs who have always wanted to spread their wings in song. We’re hoping that Cheech Martin and Peter Frampton pair up. Or maybe Hal Sparks and Smokey Robinson.
Name That Screamer
Hollywood Momentum’s regular column:
My first job out here was as the 3rd assistant to a huge producer/manager mogul. This man was totally insane and almost sent me packing back to Florida. He would make me come to his house at 6am every day, while I didn’t finish at night until anywhere between midnight and 2am…all for $550/week. Being that he didn’t have a driver’s license (alcohol yummmm), I had to drive him all over town while doing his calls. The worst was that he hated when the car went in reverse, and refused to sit in the car when I would back up. If that wasn’t strange enough, imagine driving in a city you had just moved to a few weeks ago, and having to answer seven phones (between the blackberries, office cells, personal cells, and car phones), and not being allowed to use the navigation system because he doesn’t like how the machine’s female voice sounds. The one thing that I will never forget though, is the daily 7am ritual of photographing him in his underwear and having to pin the pics to a bulletin board so that we could track his weight loss.
Who could this be?