If Oprah’s Talking About It, We’re All Talking About It

The following report is brought to you by Becky Ramsay, S.O.F Entertainment News Correspondent. Ramsay is a Chicago-based writer, actor and avid student of celebrity smut. Her areas of expertise include how to look good at any age and everything your man wants to say but isn't telling you.

We heard the headlines, we saw the picture, and we were all ready to TiVo their performance at the Grammy’s, but you better buckle up and pay attention because this is only the beginning. We have met the Whitney and Bobby of our generation. Chris Brown and Rihanna are on the fast track to following in the footsteps of two of the biggest disasters the world has ever seen. Throw in a couple of addictions, a Bravo reality show, a tell-all Barbara Walters special, and you’re in Whitney and Bobby Town. Albeit, it is your prerogative to head down such a path, you better have a better exit strategy.

HRH Oprah has even taken it upon herself to get involved. Last week, with the help of (former) supermodel Tyra Banks, Oprah dedicated an entire show to the Chris Brown/ Rihanna incident, expanding on to the subject of teen violence in relationships. It there’s one thing we all know for sure: If Oprah’s talking about it, we’re all talking about it.

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. How did we get here? Let us consider these facts that may or may not be loosely based on lives of Chris Brown and Rihanna. You know the drill: Small town girl with nothing but a penny in her pocket and a big voice to share has only her hopes and dreams to keep her warm at night. Blah, blah blah. Young southern boy rapper/dancer waits for his big break while his mother manages him out of their basement, both dealing with the deadbeat dad who sometimes “gets a little rough.” One good break after another and we’ve got two teens with success coming out their noses. A chance meeting at an MTV after party and sparks fly, records go platinum, and we’ve got a hot new item for the tabloids. “Rihanna and Chris Go Surfing!” “Chris and Rihanna Eat Pizza!” “Rihanna Shops For Her Man,” and so on… There’s just one little question: What are they going to do with all of that fame? Sooner or later, it’s going to get to you. Pressure to perform, pressure to sustain, the pressure to say "Cheese!” and look good while doing it. There’s only so much a person can take. And by person, I mean Chris Brown.

The rest is history. No one will ever really know what happened on the night of Sunday, February 8th 2009, other than bloody Coldplay winning the Grammy for album of the year. 19-year-old Chris Brown was charged with two felony counts for assault and making criminal threats. His case is due back in court on April 6 for his arraignment, at which time he could enter a plea. He has also already come out and apologized, claiming to be seeking counseling from his church and others. Brown even went as far as to withdraw his nominations from Nickelodeon’s Kids’ Choice awards, where he was nominated for Favorite Song and Favorite Male Actor. This is probably for the best. We wouldn’t want Brown loosing his cool on stage after getting slimmed by Dakota Fanning, who, I am sure, has enticed more than her fair share of people to punch her in the face.

The good news is Chris Brown and Rihanna aren’t married. The bad news is Chris Brown and Rihanna Aren’t married YET. I’m sure twenty years ago Whitney Houston was thinking the same thing. No one thinks they’ll marry the guy with the criminal record. Whitney probably also never thought the overwhelming and timeless success of her ballad “ I will Always Love You,” would eventually lead to her downfall, not only as a respected singer, but simply as a credible and sane human being. Again, there's only so much one person can take.

The difference is that Whitney got out. It took her some time and probably some serious detoxification, but she’s a survivor. She’s not currently planning on recording a duet with her allegedly abusive boyfriend about the trials and tribulations of love. Even she is not that crazy.

So Rihanna, I’ve just got one thing to say to you:

The proof is in the pudding. There is nothing alleged about those bruises on your face. Don’t go there. We’ve seen it all before. You don’t have to marry this guy, you don’t have to stand by your man, and you don’t have to sing any duets with Mariah Carey if you don’t want to. We’re here to back you up. You’ve got miles to go and we don’t want to be holding our breath for the premiere Lifetime original movie, SOS: Someone Help Me- The True Story of Rihanna and Chris Brown. Brown obviously being portrayed by the artist formerly known as L’il Bow Wow and you in your first self-titled debut role.

Look, this story isn’t going anywhere soon, and neither are we. In fact your headlines could probably only be trumped by a budding Lindsay Lohan /Miley Cyrus romance caught on tape. But in short, we’re here for you, girl. Come rain or shine, despite all that has been said and done- there will always be room for you under my umbrella, ella, ella, ey, ey, ey.

Cross Your Heart and Hope to Die

Anthony Masterson has broken a promise for the last time.

In a moment he describes as "misguided," Masterson promised to join a group of college friends at Medieval Times, a Reformation-themed restaurant where diners are wowed by live jousting, dressage routines, and a hefty pile of salted meats.

The dinner outing marked a very special occasion, a (read: my) birthday, and attendance was mandatory. In an effort to discourage any last minute cancelations, the guests agreed to an unusual stipulation: All no-shows must retake the S.A.T.

"I knew I was in for it," Masterson admits in a phone interview on Thursday. The twenty-something's work schedule in Virginia delayed his arrival in New York by two hours; he did not stand a chance of making it to the joust. More than five years and one college degree later, and Masterson's fate was once again nestled in the hands of the College Board.

The test was administered the following morning; Masterson completed it in a little over two hours. "It was tougher this time around," he concedes. "Math is hard!"

The S.A.T is a roller coaster of emotional peaks and valleys for students of all ages. When the pencils are down and the battle is done, one timeless lesson still rings true: The S.A.T can change a man. When asked if he learned anything from his punishment, Masterson holds a long, thoughtful pause. "In many ways, I'm happy it happened. It made me think a lot about keeping my word. And, you know, about honor and justice and what it means to be a good human being. I'm thinking about becoming a teacher."

Luckily, he is not thinking about becoming a college freshman. Math and Verbal sections combined, Masterson scored a 960, well below the national average.

"Math is hard!"

AHF

No Shirt? No Shoes? Big Problem.

The State of Maine has done it again.

CNN reports today that yet another sun-starved head case from the Great White North is making a mockery private enterprise. According to the news website, on Monday last, Donald Crabtree of Vassalboro, Maine opened Grand View, a coffee shop boasting topless male and female servers in the town of approximately 4,500 residents, none of whom should be seen naked. By anyone. Not even themselves. Ever.

I can only hope this is some sick publicity stunt concocted by the Kennebunkport outlet branch of Abercrombie & Fitch. My critique of this bombastic excuse for a business is three fold:

1. Why are people so stupid? 

Don't get me wrong, toplessness is great. With the right toxicity level and lighting, I can appreciate a good exposed peck/breast as much as the next person. Ain't no shame, baby, do your thing. But the naked torso/hot coffee combo makes me nervous for some reason. Oh, that's right. Common sense. Furthermore, I guess a lobster ate Crabtree's homework on the day his class learned about the infamously frivolous 1994 lawsuit of Liebeck v. McDonald's. The fast food chain was ordered to pay a disgruntled customer close to $3 million in damages after she spilled "excessively hot" McDonald's coffee on her hand. Her hand. How much do you think you get for a set of seared six pack abs or, better yet, two boobs?  One burned boob alone has to be worth at least three hands. Thus, according to my calculations, should any of Donald Crabtree Boy Genius' backcountry baristas take a pot of coffee to the knockers, he's looking at $18 million in compensation. Maine hasn't seen that kind of money since Ted Kennedy finally settled the family tab at the yacht club bar.

2. A rocky coastal outcropping does not a beach town make. 

Unlike the bronzed inhabitants of the opposite coast, Mainers are of hearty peasant stock. They are the descendants of fur trappers and the survivors of shipwrecks. I don't know about you, but I'm not dying to see some demi-nude, translucent-skinned relation of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow suggestively manipulating an espresso machine. I swear, you give Crabtree an inch and he becomes the Matthew McConaughey of breakfast drinks. Maine needs to keep her shirt on.

3. Finding a chest hair in my coffee would ruin me.

In conclusion, it seems that the crippling isolation of eternal winter has gotten to the citizens of Maine. Again. I only wish they would go back to logging or curling or whatever and leave the partial nudity to other, more evenly pigmented human beings.

Click to view the entirely unfortunate CNN report

AHF