* Droll, ironic question: Does this picture of Jennifer Aniston in Philly (we assume for the Middlebrow & Me shoot) count as distasteful paparazzi dreck? No, for many reasons, but nobody's about to waste your time waxing all smug-like on the deep, reasoned and ultimately, understandable only to myself thought process I used to decide.
I will, however, acknowledge being unsurprised at the speed with which Aniston embraced the city's native dress code of pajama bottoms and out-of-style footwear. (Dude. Those things look new. ) All she needs is a Kathy Van Zeeland handbag and no car insurance and bam! she's the lady in your neighborhood who does the jewelry shows. [Jezebel]
* On a related topic, Karen Heller wonders how it can be that stone(d) hottie Owen Wilson, who reportedly dropped cash at Rick's Cabaret in South Philly, has to pay to get a lap dance and see some boobies. I say every man pays for it somehow -- even the Butterscotch Stallion. And all the better if the stripper in question was wearing those handy shoes, the ones with the hollowed-out Lucite platform for holding tips. No, seriously. Our D.C. peeps say those pumps are also the latest in campaign-finance technology. Try the veal!
* Jim McGreevey, testifying in his divorce trial this week, says he lives off his partner's dime and doesn't have enough income -- only $48,000 a year -- to pay alimony or child support. But he turned down that radio job on New Jersey 101.5 out of concerns for his privacy. (Which is a a.) a crock and b.) a shame, because there's nothing Jim McGreevey does better than talk shit -- it could have been classic!) What's more tacky -- Dina thinking she should continue to be kept in the manner befitting the governor's wife, or Jim acting like the wife and daughter he had before he came out suddenly don't count and he owes them nothing? Jersey's choice!
