After a few turbulent years, Lindsay Lohan finally seems to have a stable, positive life and a happy relationship with DJ Samantha Ronson. Now Ronson plans to write a book about the pair’s relationship and daddy Michael Lohan is not too happy about the prospect. He told E!: “I’ve shut up about this long enough. She’s using my daughter. People never even knew who Samantha Ronson was until she met Lindsay. She was just some L.A. DJ. And now she’s writing a book? I am at wit’s end with this stuff. This is not in Lindsay’s best interest.” This from the man who has wreaked havoc on his daughter’s life with his public divorce from Lindsay’s mother Dina, his DWI arrest, two years spent in prison, and his recent engagement to a woman two years older than Lindsay. The pot continued to call the kettle black by saying: “Let’s just say I hope Lindsay starts opening her eyes and realizes who the people using her are.”
Matthew McConaughey is famous for oversharing: Whether his free-spirited self is getting arrested for smoking pot while playing bongos in the nude or telling the world that he DJ-ed and “got tribal” during son Levi’s birth, he’s always good for an entertaining dirty-hippie story. Now we understand where he gets it — his mother. Kay McConaughey (KMac as she calls herself on her website has a new book entitled I Amaze Myself. It’s full of stories intended to inspire, but many of them fall into the TMI (Too Much Information) category. Kay even told Us Magazine that Matthew’s dad, Jim, died while they were having sex. (Hey, it’s how Matt wants to go too.)
The 78-year-old mom tells the rag: “On Monday mornings, he and I often said goodbye by making love. One day, all of a sudden, it just happened. I knew that something was wrong, because I didn’t hear anything from him. Just nothing. But it was just the best way to go!” Better than watching the fourth hour of the Today Show, that’s for sure. If we were Matthew McConaughey, we’d probably be too laid-back to care (or playing the bongos too loudly to hear what our mom just said), but if our parents were this frank about their sex life (and death), we would need some serious therapy.
Lil’ Kim may have named an album Hardcore, but Faith Evans‘ upcoming tell-all, Keep The Faith, makes clear that when it came to The Notorious B.I.G., it was his r&b-singing wife that brought the fury.
There I was, rocking a black skully cap and a heavy goose-down jacket, tiptoeing into the elevator and pressing the button to go up to the second floor, where his bedroom was located…
I got to Big’s bedroom door, turned the knob, and went inside. As soon as I saw a small lump next to Big’s large frame, I flew into a rage, ran over to the side of the bed, and pulled back the covers. I grabbed some chick out of the bed and started beating her ass. At some point, the chick’s wig came off in my hand: It was a short, cropped wig. I stopped throwing punches for a minute to get a good look at the chick I was beating up. It was Lil’ Kim. She was completely butt-naked, yelling as I pushed her around the room.
“So you’re not f*cking her, right?” I screamed at Big. “Yeah, you not messing with her anymore right?”
Faith also claims that she never slept with Tupac Shakur, despite his Biggie-baiting that the two were lovers. We believe you, Faith! Just don’t hit us! [SixShot]
[Photo: Getty Images]
It may not match Keith Richards‘ $7 million advance, but Steven Tyler shouldn’t have a hard time earning back the $2 million dollars HarperCollins is allegedly paying him for a tell-all. Some things we hope he’ll remember to tell-all about.
- Signing guardianship papers in 1975 so he could live with his 14-year-old girlfriend.
- How high he was when Aerosmith recorded 1982’s “Bolivian Ragamuffin.”
- Letting his daughter Liv do a pole dance in Aerosmith’s “Crazy” video.
- Working with Lizzie McGuire.
Not only does Tyler seem shameless enough to describe all these events in full detail, I wouldn’t put it past him to make it rhyme. [Crain’s New York Business]
Surprise, surprise. Mary-Kate Olsen has no idea where Heath Ledger got those prescription drugs, but she still ain’t gonna talk to the feds about it. Her people released a statement about the hoopla, insisting that their client “had nothing whatsoever to do with the drugs found in Heath Ledger’s home or his body, and she does not know where he obtained them.” They also calls the recent claims of MK snubbing the police “incomplete and inaccurate.”
Our guess: Mary-Kate is very wisely following Madonna‘s lead (remember that guy A-Rod?), and working the scandal to generate some much needed publicity for her and Ashley’s new book, Influence. The tome apparently covers all the fashion icons who have inspired the pair – Karl Lagerfeld, Christian Louboutin, Troll Dolls – and she’s gonna have to do something big to get people to buy it. Is this legal drama just what she needs to influence us to buy her book?
Karrine “Superhead” Steffans doesn’t just shake her booty in your favorite rap videos. She’s also slept with most of your favorite rap stars. The list includes Lil’ Wayne, Method Man and even a few ringers like Shaquille O’Neal and Bill Maher. And her acrobatic tongue eventually earned her the nickname “Superhead.”
Steffans blew the lid off her love life in the memoir Confessions of a Video Vixen, which landed on bestseller lists in 2005. The pneumatic 25-year-old told of breathless encounters with DMX, Diddy, Jay-Z, Xzibit, Dr. Dre, Ice T, Usher, Bobby Brown and Vin Diesel during her years in Hollywood. Breathless, that is, until the morning after, when Steffans would discover that she was left with more crabs than self-respect.
In the sequel, The Vixen Diaries, Steffans was at it again, alleging that ex Darius Morgan cheated on her with Tyson Beckford. In his own tell-all published in 2008, Bobby Brown downplayed Steffans’ contributions to literature. “I’ve spent several nights at her house,” he wrote. “But she was only good for what her nickname stood for.” — Charles Bottomley
Salman Rushdie won the hearts of critics with his controversial 1988 novel The Satanic Verses, but many Muslims worldwide were enraged at what they saw as its blasphemous anti-Islamic message. 21 protesters were killed and 223 were wounded while rioting against the book in India, Islamabad, Pakistan, and Kashmir. On February 14, 1989, the Iranian Ayatollah issued a fatwa against Rushdie, urging all good Muslims to kill him.
With an alleged $6 million price tag on his head, the author lived for nine years in hiding under the protection of British police. Musician and Muslim convert Cat Stevens (a.k.a. Yusuf Islam) said that if Rushdie showed up on his doorstep, he “might ring somebody who might do more damage to him than he would like.” In 1998 Iran’s government formally distanced itself from the death warrant. Salman came out of hiding, married smoking-hot Top Chef host Padma Lakshmi (it lasted 8.5 years), and in June 2007 was knighted by the Queen of England.
Others involved with the controversial book did not escape the wrath of angry Muslims: two of its translators were stabbed, one fatally, and his Norwegian publisher narrowly survived an attempted assassination. Hard-line groups in Iran continue to insist the fatwa is irrevocable. Salman reports that every year on February 14 he gets a special “Valentine’s card” from Iran, reminding him that the vow to kill him has not been forgotten.
Junkie-turned-Oprah-approved faith healer James Frey‘s story was too good to be true. His 2003 memoir A Million Little Pieces uncovered a layer of hell somewhere beneath rock-bottom, with our Hemingway-on-heroin hero relating his life of drug peddling, crack-whore sex, and oral surgery gone wrong. Truth was truly stranger than fiction–and Oprah hailed the Frey’s courageous attempt to tell it like it was.
Except it wasn’t. Mug-shot website The Smoking Gun smelled a rat. A rat with Frey’s trademark odor of snot, urine, vomit, and blood. Investigation revealed that Frey’s criminal record amounted to a few speeding tickets. His story was about as reliable as the Hitler diaries.
Hell hath no fury like Oprah scorned. In January 2007, she gave Frey an on-air dressing-down like we haven’t seen since Jon Stewart‘s Crossfire shit-fit. Frey’s work now occupies the fiction section of your local bookstore. — Charles Bottomley
After the jump, watch a clips of Oprah turning on James Frey.