Anne Hathaway and her boyfriend of four years, Rafaello Follieri, split last week, and now he’s stuck behind bars until he raises $21 million in bail. This sucks, but what’s even worse is that he and Anne have a dog together, a chocolate lab named Esmeralda. Maybe this is a ploy to get Rafaello and his family some sympathy, but the New York Post reported that while Anne has been traveling around the world to promote Get Smart, the dog has been staying in Rafaello’s Trump Tower penthouse, and his mom, who came to New York from Italy for cancer treatment, is taking care of Esmeralda. A friend of Rafaello’s told the paper that Anne should come get her dog: “He can’t afford a dog walker and his mom has cancer.” Anne, please let me know if you want me to dog sit until you’re back in town. [NY Post] Keep reading »
Tag Archives: break ups
Liv Tyler is going through a breakup and has a new shorter ‘do. Ditto for Anne Hathaway. We always thought that theory was B.S., but guess not. [Mr. Chow restaurant, Beverly Hills, 6/18/08] Keep reading »
There’s no doubt that breaking up with anyone is a crappy, painful rite on par with Chinese water torture. You put so much into the relationship, and for whatever reasons, it just doesn’t work out. You lose your lover, you lose your friend. But, forget about the man in the equation for a second, and think about all the other hours you put into “making it work.” No, not with him—with his family. When you’re in love, you take in everything that comes attached to the boy, and I’m not talking about his penis: you also adopt his cracky sisters, creepy brothers, horny uncles, his divorced parents who bad mouth each other, precocious nephews who finger paint your brand new silk cami at family BBQs—you know, the whole extended family gamut. As if having to deal with your own annoying brood isn’t enough. Keep reading »
After a bad break-up, I hid in my room for a while listening to Beck’s sad Sea Change, clutching my childhood stuffed animal, Muffin, wondering what I did wrong. But after the obligatory period of self-pity, I was ready to move into phase two: the drunken rebound. My newfound freedom had me wanting some free love! So I rounded up my lady friends, put on my please f*** me pumps, and went out just to get back out there.
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