Martyr Stewart.

No matter what happens to you personally in the next year, you will not be able to say it wasn't a little bit better than it could have been.

Viva Tonya Harding!

Here she is, world! It's Miss Tonya Harding via her very own Web site!



This very important site has got all the Tonya Harding goods you'd ever want, like pics, messages and even movie clips, including this one which is apparently Tonya singing something in Portland. There's even a bio page, which, long as it is, doesn't mention a thing about hiring someone to club Nancy Kerrigan on the leg.



Anyhoots, we're sure you'll spend many valuable milliseconds perusing this site. Just please be aware that, though Tonya can still perform a triple axel, she "doesn't feel the need to do it anymore." So, if you get in touch with Tonya's agent Linda Lewis to book her for an engagement, better not to ask her to do a triple axel if you want to keep both knees. Bitch.

Videography.

If you care about music videos, here's the Music Video Database, where you can search for videos by director, artist, technician, producer or how many times MTV will never show it. We haven't watched a music video since A-ha took us on in 1935, so this site really doesn't mean much to us. However, we do realize that some NB readers are mere twinkles in the eye of the world that will eventually snuff out those twinkles, so we have no problem catering to all demographics. So, if music videos are your thing, enjoy! We'll be busy making babies out of marzipan.

Rivers belong where they can ramble.

The fact that Jackie Collins and Joan Rivers were on a BBC radio show together isn't the best part of this story. The best part of this story is that Darius Howe was also a guest on this show. Of course you don't know who Darius Howe is, and it doesn't really matter. What matters is that he and Rivers got into an on-air shouting match regarding racism and culminating in Rivers calling Howe (a Trinidadian filmmaker, writer and activist—just so you have some context. It still doesn't matter.) a "son of a bitch" because she thought he called her a racist. After Howe said to Rivers that he didn't think she was racist, she said, "Thank you. Please continue about your stupid film."

But the best best part of all this utter hilarity? You can hear it all go down as it happened. BRAVO for the technology!



ADDENDUM:
The fight starts 23 minutes into the broadcast. And it is a GOOD TIME.

ADDENDUM:
The link to play the broadcast from the BBC page looks like this:

Curried rumor.

According to Howard Stern this morning, Adrianne Curry, America's first next top model, is no longer dating Christopher Knight/Peter Brady...



She has managed to land herself the only thing worse...



Now, we really don't know how true this is, nor do we care. We just wanted to post...



Ladies and gentlemen...

Filthy sluticane.

Ssssshhh! You'll wake the damn almond!

Well. It's happened. Our two least favorite things in the universe have been brought together in one spectacularly and shimmeringly creepy package. Ergo, please enjoy...

MARZIPAN BABIES.



UPDATE:
Helpful reader Jane commented below and is correct. The marzipan babies are really just small, creepy sculptures made of polymer clay by an insane woman named Camille Allen. We are sorry for any confusion this may have caused. We will say, however, that we are now more inclined to eat them.

Dirty whoreicane.

"A lot of confusion in the world."

The greatest, most luxurious smackdown ever.

Spys on babys.

This article is hilarious, anyway, but we adore the pic most, not only because Apple Martin's mom looks like a beaver holding a microphone, but because its caption refers to her as "Gwyneth Paltrows."



(Yes, today is obviously chock empty of inspiration. We blame Gwyneth Paltrows.)

Ship-shape.

You really can't keep an Olympic swimmer down.

Own the bubbles.

As per usual, please visit fourfour for your weekly photoriffic (and mp3riffic! Rich, you're a genius!) recap of "America's Next Top Model." We would just like to state that we adore Lisa, not only because she's drunk all the time, but because she's all business when it counts, especially in the hot tub. Oh wait, that's drunk. Whatever. We love her and her eye.



Unfortunately, the man was voted off leaving us, once again to wonder when Tyra Banks will understand what makes good television. Yes, we know the answer to that, but we can still hope, no? Right. No. Well, good enough is good enough these days. Did we just say "these days"? It's Twiggy's fault.

The Order of the Fetus.

Vera Drake, abortionist extraordinaire, will play Dolores Umbridge in the fifth Harry Potter movie. No word on who will play the giant brain or the 253 extra pages. We'll update as soon as we find out.

Good night.

See you tomorrow, kids!

Gold Rush.

Here's a link to some pictures from the opening-night afterparty for the play Absurd Person Singular. We have no vested interest in any of this—it's just an excuse for us to post a pic of NB fave Deborah Rush. We can't vouch for what she's wearing, but we still loves her to pieces.

Not-so-happy days.

Oh, Paul Williams, how we completely adore you.

And how we completely despise you.

Fantasia on Fantasia.

OK, guys, fantasiaslies.com is back up, though it's apparently crashing quite often because of all the traffic it's getting. Anyway, the site basically takes passages from Fantasia's memoir and refutes them. For instance, Fantasia claims she grew up in a cold house in an impoverished, bad neighborhood. The site then publishes these photographs of her childhood house...



...including its central air-conditioning unit...



...which is utterly hilarious.

Smartly, the creators of the site kept it to mostly strictly copy with no photographs, so if Fantasia should happen to visit it, she'll just think it's a fan site celebrating her childhood. Very clevah, indeed. The site also links to the official Fantasia's Lies blog, which, as far as we can tell (and it wasn't far at all), is even less entertaining than the one you're currently reading (and as entertaining as the none Fantasia's reading). It does, however, include this brilliant line: "Fantasia Barrino admits to stealing from stores in High Point, NC while she was trying to raise her daughter Zion. Although I can be sympathetic to a the real struggling Baby's Mama's out there who hardly have two pennies to rub together, there are just so many inconsistencies in Fantasia's story that I don't know what to believe."

Please let it be known, just for the record, that the NB fully supports any Baby's Mama's struggle to raise her child, even if she has to lie about it in a language she doesn't understand.

We, the living.

Oh, all you other cities with your reasonably priced one-family houses, porches, lawns, gardens, garages, patios, pools, backyards, windows, closets, attics and safety, listen up: we Manhattanites give you a bellowing, straight-from-the-gut FUCK YOU. We won this one, and we're perfectly, PERFECTLY happy to pay $2.3 million dollars for a space you wouldn't let your quadri-racial bastard one-legged demi-child from your fourth failed engagement live in. PERFECTLY HAPPY. So fuck you and all you're about. Better luck next time, chumps. Out.

Overjovied.

The latest result of the "War on Terror." Expect Madonna not to be there. Oh, right, rule of threes, rule of threes... Um... Ah... Of course, you can always count on the Germans for some hilarity. Danke schoen!

Oh, shit. Rule of fours? Just this once, OK?

Grumpsy Paltrow.

No, Apple Martin's mum would not like a lolly in the lift of the pram of the bloody neighbourhood, though she appreciates your asking. As you were.