We’d Watch Love to Watch Dirt, but We Just Washed Our Hair

The year’s barely begun and yet the ick is already flowing. In Robin Abcarian’s piece on Dirt in the LA Times, she confides that show creator Matthew Carnahan calls Helen Hunt his “baby mama”. Home delivery should come with barf bags.

Carnahan also gushed about the Sun’s Rebekah Wade, but claims to have never met Bonnie Fuller. He also said, in reference to the death of the Princess of Wales:

I thought, now we are going to shift into something more elegant, more distanced, more objective, more human, boy was I wrong.

Well yes, and he should be thrilled, as in a more elegant time, he’d be just another case of mistaken identity. In a wierd little twist, Ian Hart’s paparazzi character isn’t just a sleaze-bag with a telephoto lens, he’s also a schizophrenic, because what normal person could do that job? He’s called Don Konkey (Don Quixote, geddit?) so we’ll see his inner idealism (insert inevitable future reference to his failed career shooting war scenes and dead babies.)

Courteney Cox, to study up for the taxing role of tabloid editor Lucy Spiller, hung out with close pal Jane Pratt. Such a serious thespian–let us know when she decides to play Natasha Cornett. The NY Times says she’s “strangely wooden and bland”–is she ever not?

For a more exacting look at the series, try Brian Lowry in Variety. Or Troy Patterson in Slate. (How weird that one guy is named for two mythical cities. We know we’re random.)

(Our title for this post is inspired by Bette Davis, which you all knew, of course.)

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