Jan 26 2008

Amy Winehouse’s Rehab Diary, Day 3



Now I’m sober I can see I look crap as a blond.

When did I do that?

Jan 25 2008

Amy Winehouse’s Rehab Diary, Day 1


Dear Diary:

Bloody fuckin’ hell my head hurts. Cheeky attendant keeps humming that bloody Alanis Morrisette song whenever he comes in to take my vitals.

“Isn’t it ironic?” YES, I GET THE FUCKIN’ JOKE, IT’S FUCKIN’ IRONIC ME BEIN’ HERE. And YES, I know the meaning of “ironic” unlike some poxy Canadians. I’m pretty fuckin’ clever, you must admit. I am the one who wrote ” Thinking on you in the final throes/This is when my buzzer goes”– C’mon, that’s witty AND sexy AND it rhymes!

NOW FUCK OFF! Useless wanker. And bring me my cigs.

Oct 1 2003

Liza Minelli’s Rehab Diary, Day One


They saved my old room for me, so nice of them to remember! My favorite attendant Javier is still here. He’s so sweet. And musical, too! He reminds me of Peter. In fact, I honestly don’t think Javier recognized me first time out, but as soon as I mentioned Peter’s name he practically SHRIEKED! It was all I could do to keep him from performing “I Go to Rio” in its entirety when he was suppposed to be giving me a foot massage.

Lorna sent flowers. I wish she’d send me a goddamn Snickers bar.

Sep 30 2003

Calvin Klein’s Rehab Diary, Day Number One


Dear Diary:

Honestly, I just wanted to tell that adorable Latrell Sprewell what a towering athletic talent he has. But I suppose it’s time to reflect, and get recentered. This is just a little setback.

Thank God they’ve redecorated since the last time I was here. Rehab was such a DEPRESSING place to be in the 80’s. One always felt like one was missing out on some fabulous party. Now you never know who you’ll run into right here! I saw a picture of that Melanie Griffith up on the wall of the dining hall. She’s married to that Antonio Banderas– why on EARTH would you need to get doped up when you had HIM around the house, I ask you? I could just eat him up with a spoon. And I’m STRAIGHT, mind you.

But back to the redecoration. SO glad they’ve done away with the pink-and-taupe color scheme. But these sheets, they’re like sandpaper! These must be a 100-thread count, max. WHERE do they get them from, K-Mart? Had I known, I would have brought my own, and some to share.

Aug 25 2003

Jack Osbourne’s Rehab Diary: Day One


Okay okay okay. I’ll go. But FUCK! NOW how am I supposed to get laid?

Dec 27 2002

Winona Ryder’s Courtroom Diary, BROKEN ARM DAY!


Ow ow ow ow ow! The press are barbarians! Now I know how Princess Diana felt!

I’ll keep this short, because my arm fucking HURTS! Apparently this is STILL going on, and I STILL have to keep showing up, like practically every day, and I STILL have to keep coming up with these BORING serious and mature outfits! I asked my lawyer if we could postpone another few months until I healed properly and he ROLLED his EYES, as if to say, “No, Winona, probably not”. GOD!

OW! If this is broken that camera guy is gonna PAY! I wonder if they make slings in leopard print?

Dec 27 2002

Winona Ryder’s Courtroom Diary: Day… um, what day is it?


God, what day IS it? Let’s see, I’ve never been here before… day one? Well, I’m wearing my cream jacket today, so let’s call it Cream Jacket (no wait, I think they call it “coconut”. Or was it “au lait”? Must check in the bathroom later) Day. Okay, so here I am, on Cream Jacket Day. I got this FRANTIC call from my attorney, WAKING ME UP. Apparently the judge wanted me to be here at 8:30? A.M.? Is he for real? ANYway, I think I look damn good for someone who had only 10 hours sleep, managed to dab a little bumble and Bumble in my hair, I think I look VERY serious and mature in my jacket and blouse. Serious and mature, serious and mature, that’s all my lawyer ever seems to say to me. I GET IT, ALREADY! Does he think one gets nominated for MULTIPLE Academy Awards by being anything but? Honestly.

Trying to make the best of a bad situation by setting up something FUN for tonight. Sky Bar, maybe? Called Gwynnie during the break (they call it “recess”– isn’t that hilarious for someplace that’s supposed to be so mature and serious?). Her number’s been changed? Wondering what is UP with that, this is her private cell number that she’s had for YEARS.

Jul 9 2002

David Hasselhoff: Day Two


Wow, this place is GREAT! I have shopped my “Knight Rider Reunion” script to four producers who are also here for alcohol addiction and they all promised to read it. I have not made so many great contacts since, well, since ever.

Left three messages on William Daniels’ voicemail. He is going to be SO STOKED!

Ran into Helga in the hallway this afternoon and she was so excited she could only speak German. I don’t know any German, but I did record a KICKASS version of “Feliz Navidad” for my Xmas album. I sang her a few bars and that calmed her long enough so I could bolt for my room. I love my fans, really I do, but they can be such a trial sometimes.

Jul 8 2002

David Hasselhoff: Day One


You may wonder what a fit and together guy like myself is doing here at the Betty Ford Center. Well, he (crossed out) I realized his (crossed out) my social drinking had increased more than he (crossed out) I was comfortable with and he (crossed out) I decided to do something about it.

I’m feeling stronger already. There’s a great vibe here. I was in the cafeteria at breakfast today and all the kitchen staff came and asked for my autograph! Who knew there were so many German immigrants in Rancho Mirage??

After breakfast there was quite a bit of excitement. I was taking my meditation walk around the lake and Helga the sous-chef seemed to have gotten swept into the lake somehow. She surely would have been caught in some kind of lake undertow if I hadn’t jumped in to save her. This feeling of importance and purpose is what’s gonna help me through these dark days, I just know it.

Jun 27 2002

Billy Joel: Final Entry


I am OUTTA HERE, fuckers! The last straw was the ward talent show, when two alkie limo drivers and a glue-sniffing high school shop teacher decided it would be a good idea to perform “We Didn’t Start the Fire” as a gangsta rap accompanied by a kazoo. Everyone’s staring at ME while this is going on, and my counselor squeezes my arm and says, “Can you feel the love behind the satire? It’s important to embrace your sense of whimsy.”

Whimsy THIS, bitch!

After this, sitting through 6 hours of a “modernist ballet” interpretation of “Vienna” and two dozen DAILY calls (I shit you not) from Elton obsessing about his tour wardrobe and how much is it going to cost to ship a 40-lb. sequined tuxedo jacket to Budhapest is going to feel like a beach vacation.

GOD, I need a drink.