Where on earth do I begin to report the nonsense that has transpired since Friday?
I am boarding a plane from Atlanta to NYC after a -- what's the word here -- um, how about dramatic Real Housewives of Atlanta reunion taping. I mean DRAMA, people. I haven't seen anything like it since never. And watch the show tonight to find out the results of NeNe's DNA test, and to hear Sheree say "She, by Sheree" 10 times too few. I am obsessed with "She by Shiree."
The love affair between Anderson Cooper and NeNe continues. Yesterday afternoon I had NeNe (who has a new short 'do) leave him a (hysterical) voicemail, and last night he gave her a shout-out on "360." I will have much more on the Atlanta Reunion as the weeks come. I need to process it, OK?
Last Friday night in LA was all about a birthday celebration for a friend in Koreatown. We started with Korean BBQ and followed it up at what is the best karaoke joint I think I've ever been to. The Palm Tree. My crowning solo achievement of the eve was "Rocky Mountain High", but Bruce and I really were the kings of the duet, with "Islands in the Stream," "Endless Love," and then we turned tons of songs not meant for duet ("Killing me Softly") into double Dutch affairs.
While dueting "Vogue" with some sort of kickboxing routine, my leg got in his way and I suffered a horrible karaoke injury. You can't believe the gash on my leg. Well I can't believe it -- maybe you can.