Just Say No

You'd be hard pressed to find any positive reviews of Denise Richards: It's Complicated or Living Lohan. The most positive thing I've read is the opening from the San Diego Union Tribune: "As a study in fame-related psychosis, "Living Lohan" is actually pretty fascinating..."

So, I knew what I was getting into when I tuned in to this double dose of D-listers, but why does it still hurt so bad? I had to see for myself. Maybe you did, too.

It's a sad day when I'd rather follow the moral compass of Charlie Sheen, but Ms. Richards' show does nothing to advance her cause to prove she's just a regular ol' (wronged) single mom trying to find her way. She trots out her mother's tragic cancer death like some kind of trump card that might erase her evil, but instead, this show made me cringe more than as if I was watching Woody Allen attend a junior high school dance.

Gross.

And after subjecting myself to Living Lohan, mostly I felt like I needed to be de-loused after watching. Dina Lohan will tell anyone who'll listen how she doesn't crave attention.

Methinks you doth protest too loudly, you cheese infested plastic Barbie gone bad.

Parasitic Dina and her (probably underpaid) underlings relentlessly Google meal ticket Lindsay to see what's been written about her in the rags each day. Watching 14 year old Ali (who conceivably could've been 13 when this was filmed) peer over her mother's shoulder while she reviewed the latest sex scandal of her big sis? Disturbing on so many levels.

I'm trying to compare our upbringings: When I was 14, my mother would not let me wear a denim jacket to school because I would "look like a hood".

Let's just say I think I had the better deal.

My opinion of Dina Lohan? Joan Crawford and her wire hangers are better suited to parenting.