Tag: Naomi Campbell’

Nothing Relaxes Me More Than Playing Mean Jokes on Elton John…

 - by Aunt Johnny

Ever since Naomi Campbell appeared on Oprah to discuss her issues with anger management, she hasn’t been any fun at all. She hasn’t beat up one single servant in weeks – and quite frankly, I’m beginning to get concerned. And now, I find out she’s found Kabbalah. According to Page Six in the New York Post, She’s been meeting in secret with Madonna’s mentor, Eitan Yardeni.

Since when does she believe in the principles of Kabbalah anyway? Two years ago, she was bashing it in the media by saying, “I knew about kabbalah before Madonna got involved. Kabbalah is not a religion, it’s a program. I don’t like to get hooked on things like that. It reminds me of AA, but just with different words. They’ve got the same principles . . . I just believe in God. I am religious. I pray most days and do my thing. But each to their own.”

Now she’s drinking the Kabbalah Koolaid and getting all Zohar on our asses.

Where does that leave me? Does this mean we won’t spend anymore Friday evenings hiding behind trash cans outside Kohls and attacking poorly dressed patrons as they come out? Seeing her lose her temper and fly into a rage is what endears me to her most, and if she ends up finding peace through spirituality, I’m afraid we’ll drift apart and have nothing in common anymore. I was distraught with worry.

And Lindsay Lohan dropping buy to ask a favor was not helping matters.

“No, I’m not paying for your trip to Cannes,” I said flatly.

Desperate to go to the film festival this year to wrangle money for her recently green-lighted Linda Lovelace biopic “Inferno,” she’s been trying to swing a free trip for a while now, but no one seems willing to pay for it. I guess people are worried she’ll use the money on illegal cow tranquilizers instead of plane fare (again). So here she is in my living room, turning on the water works trying to guilt me into footing the bill while sneaking Tic-Tacs from my candy dish into her purse.

“You can just forget about it, young lady,” I continued, “And honey, those aren’t pills. They’re breath mints.”

She frowned and emptied out the stash she’d stuffed in her purse onto my floor and stormed out.  Kids.

I could feel my tension mounting…and I needed to do something to blow off some steam. Since Naomi is too busy meditating in a hot room with incense, I had to find something to relax on my own. So I spent the afternoon applying peroxide to all of Elton John’s hair pieces. That did seem to relax me a little.

Love ya like the good ol’ days terrorizing unattractive people with Naomi Campbell,

Johnny

Link to Lindsay Lohan Story: http://www.nypost.com/p/pagesix/no_free_ride_C4CqCwpRTHSjwrVPcBWslO

Link to Naomi Campbell Story: http://www.nypost.com/p/pagesix/naomi_has_fresh_eye_on_kabbalah_4HQ2LWLYgD8T45wZENHYoK

Note to self: Don’t forget that you hid Naomi Campbell in the bathroom…

 - by Aunt Johnny

“You need to stop,” I said, not trying to hide my annoyance,”You know how I feel about crying just before American Idol. And get yourself off the floor, honey…you’ve been down there curled up like a tranquilized cat for hours now, and your tears are starting to damage my gorgeous wood floors. Melissa Ethridge installed those floors, and if she comes over and finds watermarks on this wood, she’s gonna be pissed!”

It’s bad enough I was hung from yet another night of partying with Betty White. Now that she’s signed on the dotted line for a sitcom on TV Land with Valerie Bertinelli, she seems determined to spend all the money she hasn’t made yet in syndication royalties on getting wasted, going to Chippendales and eating pot brownies on Woody Harrelson’s houseboat. Now I had to deal with Chris Brown’s flailing career, post Rihanna domestic violence snafu.

“I’ll never recover from this,” he whined,”My career is over. It’s over!”

Drama Queen.

“Listen, Christopher,” I said sternly, “I want you to get up, go to the bathroom, wash your face, pull yourself together – and get ready because I’m taking you out for ice cream. That’s right mister! Ice cream! That will turn that frown upside down and put the spring back in your step won’t it?”

He smiled, sniffled a little bit and nodded his head “yes”….and then skipped to the bathroom.

Next thing I knew, poor little Chris Brown was lying bloody on the floor of my bathroom crying again…only this time, not because of his rapidly decomposing music career…but because he’d just been beaten with a hairbrush. The poor dear. He never saw it coming.

Ok – totally my bad. I had completely forgotten that I was hiding Naomi Campbell in my towel hutch ever since she assaulted her limo driver because he wouldn’t tell her whether or not her billionaire Russian boyfriend was having an affair. In my defense though, she really doesn’t take up much space and is pretty quiet as long as you don’t provoke her – so it’s entirely reasonable that I would forget she was even there. That, and I’ve had a lot of brownies in the last few days (Woody Harrelson’s recipe is really quite delicious)…so I’ve sort of been stoned out of my mind.

Ordinarily the sight of Naomi standing over Chris beating him down like a little bitch would have panicked and distressed me. But, well, I was stoned – so I really just thought it was funny.

When I managed to stop giggling, I pulled Naomi off of him and said, “Naomi, honey, this has to stop! That is my favorite hair brush, and you’re getting Chris Brown’s blood all over my beautiful Italian marble floors! Melissa Ethridge installed these floors, and if she sees them bloodied, she’s gonna be pissed!”

Chris and Naomi both know that violence is not condoned in my house unless it involves Anna Wintour amusing herself by making two models fight over a peanut M&M. But in this case, I decided to forgive and forget…because for the two of them, it seemed to work as an aphrodisiac and some kind of anger mismanagement foreplay.  While we were at the emergency room getting his forehead stitched up, he asked me for her phone number as Naomi pounded on an elderly female nurse who made the mistake of asking for Chris’s autograph. Chris, the proverbial romantic, was touched by her sweet and impulsive gesture.

It was all very sweet. Like a scene from “When Harry Met Sally” if it were being interpreted by the WWF.

Love ya like playing cupid to rough and tumble,

Aunt Johnny

Link to Chris Brown story: http://www.mtv.com/news/articles/1633689/20100311/brown__chris__18_.jhtml

Link to Naomi Campbell story: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/03/03/naomi-campbell-limo-drive_n_483003.html

Link to Betty White story: http://insidetv.aol.com/2010/03/02/valerie-bertinelli-betty-white-head-to-tv-land-in-hot-in-cleve/