A Wild Child Songstress

Which wild-child songstress (whose initials aren’t L.L.) is enjoying the single life with a vengeance? “She’s just spent a week absolutely stoned out of her mind, and all the guys she hooks up with have steady girlfriends,” says a snitch. “The worst thing is her mother parties with her, watching her getting so drunk she’s almost carried outta clubs.” (Gatecrasher)

Self-Lovin’ Sally: I don’t hate Sally because she’s beautiful. I just want to pull her hair (or better yet, her false eyelashes), because she’s so insistent on being the belle of the ball. Gag. Let me explain. Whenever Sally hits a soiree, she makes absolutely sure she is the last one to arrive on the red carpet–because only losers and Z-listers show up early, you see. You gotta make reporters wait for you if you’re an A-lister, and, oh, Lordy, do we ever wait. On many occasions, Sally has waited in a parked limo right next to the red carpet (how’s that for moronic?) until an hour after the last celebrity has gone inside, just to make sure we all know she’s the queen bee. Then, when she finally emerges, it’s as if Sally has fire ants in her Spanx, because she scurries past reporters, granting only one or two lightning-quick interviews. Meanwhile, if a single hair is out of place, one of her handlers (there are many) will jump in front of her, blocking the camera, to fix it. Mid-interview. As if this were normal. This is divine divadom at its finest, y’all. Take it from a diva who knows! [E! Online]

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