Each week, we look at the biggest celebrity news—and amuse ourselves by imagining how those celebrities might have reacted. Join us as we dine with Damian Lewis and Claire Danes, read the morning paper with Anne Hathaway, and peek into Kim Kardashian’s closet.
The One Direction fragrance—Our Moment—is expected to earn about $550,000 in its first week of sales.
A class of 20 seventh graders look up as a U.P.S. delivery man peers into their classroom holding a giant box. Before the teacher has even had a chance to address him, four of the girls have leaped out of their chairs. The most agile, Braydon, knocks him over and tears open the box in a tornado of movements. But before she can reach her hands inside, Meygyn has shoved her aside. Meygyn, almost feral, cracks two bottles on the ground and smears the solution on her face.
A cut of the Homeland season three premiere leaks early online.
Damian Lewis and Claire Danes are out to dinner with their spouses.
“I blame Carrie for the leak of the premiere,” Damian laughs, “She’s too distracted by Brody this, Brody that. . . .” Damian’s wife smiles politely. Hugh Dancy looks down at his food. Claire stands up and slaps Damian across the face before marching to the bathroom.
Hugh, weary and bleary-eyed, looks up at Damian and his wife pleadingly. “I don’t know what to tell you, she’s never not in character anymore.”
Miley Cyrus’s younger sister, Noah, is reportedly dating Pierce Brosnan’s son, Paris.
Noah and Paris are watching American Horror Story at the Cyrus home. “It’s funny,” Noah says. “You know, you’d think, that, you know, if a Noah and Paris were dating, that Noah would be the boy and Paris would be the girl. . .”
Paris shrugs, and looks around. “Hey, so, like, do you think Miley’s gonna be home in the next half hour, or like. . . will it be much longer than that?”
Michelle Williams will be taking on the role of Sally Bowles in the upcoming Sam Mendes production of Cabaret on Broadway.
Anne Hathaway sits at the breakfast table with husband Adam and Adam’s brother. Anne scans the Times Arts section. An impossible Cheshire cat grin breaks out gradually on her face. She cackles—somehow both shrill and deep at once—and the wooden dining table reverberates. Her body snaps out of her chair and, in one swift motion, she lifts the toaster from the kitchen counter and hurls it into a window.
Adam’s brother, horrified, turns to Adam and whispers: “Is this because of the Michelle Williams Broadway thing?”
Adam doesn’t look up from his phone: “Nope, this is just how she begins every morning.”
Suri Cruise’s arm cast appears to have “No butt smacking with this” written on it.
Shiloh Jolie-Pitt, Blue Ivy Carter and North West meet in their usual spot, behind the slide on the playground. “Nice work,” Shiloh says to North, who still has Sharpie smudges on her hands.
“I still don’t get it,” North says. “What did those words even mean?”
“Trust us,” Blue says. “It means really bad stuff. We heard an adult say it. It’s, like, swear words.”
Lance Bass is engaged to actor/model Michael Turchin.
Lance gets a text from J.C. Chasez: “congrats, lance! bet you’re over the moon.”
Lance turns to Michael. “Jesus, will the space jokes ever stop????”
Michael looks up. “I’m sorry, babe. I agree—they’re really not funny.” He smiles. “I Apollo-gize on his behalf.”
Scarlett Johansson is engaged to French journalist Romain Dauriac.
“What do you think of this Romain guy?” Ryan Reynolds asks Blake Lively, as Blake stirs cake batter in a mixing bowl.
“He seems fine,” Blake answers. “He’s handsome.”
Ryan sticks his finger in the cake batter and licks it off. “But, like, non-celebrity handsome, right?”
Blake sighs. “I mean handsome handsome. I don’t know, Ryan! Why are you asking me this?”
“What kind of name is that, anyway? Romain?! Like the lettuce?”
Kanye West announces his 23-city “Yeezus” tour, with the first date scheduled for October 19.
Kim Kardashian pulls a cardboard box out of her closet. It’s filled with non-black clothes and feather boas and fruity perfumes and her Taylor Swift CDs and that one t-shirt Reggie Bush gave her that she’s kept all these years. She tosses in a piece of paper with the contact information of her favorite paparazzi scribbled on it.
“Just a few more weeks ’til you get to come out,” she whispers, and pushes it back into the closet.
