BLIND ITEMS ABOUT MY FRIENDS*

BLIND ITEMS ABOUT MY FRIENDS*

What out-and-proud Howard Stern fan’s not-so-well-hidden fuzzy side came out this weekend when he finally canceled his account with a highly-visible, lowly-regarded Internet Service Provider? The secret softy hadn’t used the dial-up dinosaur in months but had put off placing the call out of fear of the outdated direct mail nuisance’s notoriously cult-like refusal to let members of its “family” escape its cold, Mafia-like grip. Within a few minutes of dialing customer service, the potty-mouthed bad boy (who also, eyewitness sources say, loooooooved “Shrek 2”), was heard chit-chatting with a phone rep he was addressing by first name, inquiring about her kids and opening up about his own occupation, feeding the ravenous appetite of the commission-craving customer-intimidator. The iced tea and lemonade-mixing bad boy sketched a line in the sand and later expressed disappointment that the chummy chatterbox he’d gotten to know so well had become so terse and rude when saying goodbye. He’ll be thanking himself when he finds an extra $10 in his bank account next month.

What westside chatterbox who lends out her swanky guest house to sisters having birthdays has designs on a successful screenwriter, even though her previous fling with a date-crashing funnyman ended with laughter — at his expense? Let’s hope this one doesn’t turn into another turkey tale, because the perils are as plain as the writing on the back of a Harry Potter action figure box.

What sassy Scooby Doo-loving pre-tween performed 75 cartwheels at her preschool fund drive last weekend, thus nearly bankrupting a kind benefactor who pledged $5 a cartwheel, thinking the precocious francais-parlezing member of the Nickelodeon demographic would max out around five? The distraught donor, suddenly finding himself twirling into a pit of financial ruin, was rescued by the subsequently dizzy tot’s mom, who graciously (and fraudulently) did some gymnastics with the donation form and reduced his overly generous pledge to a more manageable level, thus causing him to do some cartwheels of his own… of joy.

What concert-going Bay-watcher needs to get his chronology straight when trying to hide the fact that his on-again, off-again fling with his favorite bad girl may have been on-again more recently than his friends knew? Seems the curly-haired Casanova slipped up at a recent gathering and found his own pulse racing when grilling from his barracuda buddies ensued.

Aah, the fall TV schedules have been announced, and schadenfreude is in the air! What friend’s former film professor, who has a habit of being told off by his staff for his arrogance and an even nastier habit of repeatedly promising students jobs and then failing to deliver, saw his snooze-inducing drama series canned this season after — Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz — excuse me, I fell asleep just writing about that show, which 0% of friends polled were aware was still on the air. Turns out those custodial network bigwigs weren’t quite as convinced of the turgid, talky show’s terrificness as his eminence the creator was (and neither were the Emmy people), so they orphaned it into network oblivion … And what victorious vixen scoffed when she heard the news that her nemesis’ network pilot had been nixed? Sources say the sun came out last Sunday when said friend heard the fate of the vulpine scribe’s drama. Apparently, the not-meant-to-be new series was as ill-conceived as its creator’s tendency to moon over certain network execs at interminable length, and its axing leaves her nothing to talk about at dinner parties but her second-favorite topic, herself.

What guy sitting in front of me at “Shrek 2” this weekend went absolutely gaga — no, not over the flick, but over the hairy-chested hunk Shrek became after drinking a magic potion that also did quite a number on his donkey? Puss in Boots may have been the cat’s meow with audiences, but the real purring was coming from Row F of the Cinerama Dome, where a patron was audibly cooing and gurgling whenever a certain digitally-rendered dreamboat appeared on screen. Theater owners broke out the big mop bucket to wipe up the puddle of drool that pooled at the base of the soulpatched swooner’s oversized, high-backed theater seat. And when the lights came up, he was seen walking out with a very beary boyfriend of his own on his arm. Thankfully, the movie’s message of tolerance for the beastly ensured that the ogreish duo turned nary a toddling moviegoer’s head on the way out of the theater.

Finally, speaking of toddlers, what tough-as-nails two-year-old was returned to his parents yesterday with a couple of new scrapes and bruises thanks to a bumbling, blogging babysitter? The eponymous “scare”-giver blamed the bumps on the klutzy kid, until his blabbermouth boyfriend bellowed, “J’accuse!” and revealed the playground mishap that bonked the baby on the noggin. Seems the sitter thought the kid wasn’t having enough fun on the seesaw, and so he sped up the sees and saws until the kid ended up with a face full of handlebar. Ouch! Why, babysitter, why?

That’ll do it for now. Any guesses?????

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* and some weirdo at “Shrek 2”

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