The Awful Truth

Are Orlando Bloom and Keira Knightley just supertight shoppin' pals, or is there somethin' more to their late-breakin' bed-raggled look as of late? And what's got George Dubya all down in the frownin' dumps these days? Gosh, what could it be... 

Orlando Bloom was spotted at the Hollywood Farmers Market off Cahuenga on Tuesday with none other than his Pirates costar, one Keira Knightley. Very interesting, isn't it, steppin' out together after the O-babe's recent split with Kate Bosworth? 

That would be a oui, oui, mes chers!

Now, not sure if they were shoppin' for produce together, or what, but my disapproving onlooker-slash-non-meat type says the twosome looked "gray, gaunt and pale" on said outing.
 
(Who do you suppose is the skinnier of these two twigs? I think it's a tie.)

Anyhow, the friendly duo were both rocking the "I just rolled out of bed and grabbed the first thing on my floor" look, à la Johnny Depp, but not nearly as sex-ay as he manages to make it look. Does anyone disagree with me here? You all nasties have never been shy about telling me you disagree with me—don't start holding back now!

Oh, I'm additionally told by my witnesses on all things gray that there was no canoodling going down, dayum, for the romantic record, but that Orlando had on a goofy knit hat while K-babe wore a way-oversize sweater and baggy pants. That sorta spells cozy-wozy? No? Well, I think it does.
 
"Come to think of it," considered my shopping spies, "they did look like man-sized clothes" that Ms. K had on.
 
Hmmm, you two famous hons been havin' sleepovers or somethin'?

Other duos raisin' well-waxed eyebrows round Hell-Ay were Jason Schwartzman and Leelee Sobieski. Jason, who was just hilarious in Shopgirl, was sittin' shotgun as Leelee maneuvered her new Audi around the crowded streets by Musso's, heart o' H-town (just down from the Scientology HQ). And, evidently, Leelee ain't just large and in charge in the driver's seat. "Jesus, is she tall and long-limbed compared to Mr. Louis Louis!" mouthed pedestrian passersby.
 
(Also way overrated, in my bitchy opinion. I mean, have you ever suffered through Here on Earth? Oy.)
 
'Kay, West Coast gossip effers ain't the only ones dissing 'n' pissing. Read on: George Bush (the younger version), I 'spose, prefers to communicate just like Betty White. I'm sure, by now, you caught Dubya's CNBC interview, in which he proclaimed that he sometimes uses "the Google," but never, ever, the email, which he trusts about as much as he does Hillary Clinton. Fascinating that the man who has approved the country being bugged out the wazoo doesn't want to take a chance at bein' big-brother-bothered himself. So, Ms. W., of Golden Girls and general ditzy blonde infamy, just sent writer Jim Colucci the sweetest little thank-you note for penning The Q Guide to the Golden Girls. On perf old-lady stationery (not so dissimilar to Dubya's private stash, mind you), Betty-babe thanked Mr. C. for his hysterical compilation, which includes best-of, behind the scenes and general campy boob-tube celebration of all things Golden, for which all the stars were interviewed, as well as yours truly, among other retirement-home-bound queens. Get it, or get off the laxative pot! Oh, by the by, speaking of things leaking, I must tell ya some juice from Potomac-Ville. According to my ultra-inside, Bush-connected Desk Dee Cee, what's even more commonly known round town is not so much that the Prez and his missus, Laura, ain't exactly seeing eye to eye in the domestic-bliss department, but—get a hold of this quelle friggin' surprise—the dude-chief's really feeling funky these days. As in the ol' Big D (and I don't mean my old hometown).
 
Yep, G.W.'s—I'm told by those who hang with him (I kid you not)—depressed. Gosh, wonder why? Think it has anything to do with blowing up half of Iraq, and heaps of your loyal, very young, soldiering constituents getting the crap blown outta them in the process? Prolly. Indeed, Desk Dee Cee insists Lincoln's Melancholy, Joshua Wolf Shenk's story of Abe's well-known battle with melancholia, is on Dubya's nightstand, apparently, in an effort to battle Bush's own blues suffered from being top dawg.
 
The White House did not comment.
 
Doesn't mean I can't:
 
Think you're depressed, Dubya? Try being one of the lonely ones who have lost their lovers, sons, daughters, wives, fathers, sisters, brothers, mothers and best friends, thanks to you.