This is the bedroom of Apple Martin, the daughter of Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin of Coldplay.

I am sure that the linens alone probably cost more than my entire living room set, but why does this room not speak to me?

The bed just seems so imposing for such a little girl, although it could be just the perspective of the photo.  But no, those four posters pretty much reach all the way up to the ceiling.  Somehow it reminds me of a bed that the Dowager Duchess of Cornwall should be climbing into at night, demanding querulously that her servant place a warming brick at her feet, rather than that of a three year old.

Perhaps all the toys, books, photos, and cute little themed rugs were pushed to the other side of the room for the sake of the photographer.   And I don’t know exactly why that nightstand bugs me, but it does.  Maybe because it bears more than a passing resemblance to a spittoon, it does nothing to endear itself to me.  I know for a fact, though, that nobody keeps a vase of fresh flowers right next to a child’s bed.  Nobody, not even Gwyneth Paltrow.  Especially not with white carpet.  You’re just asking for trouble.

The only things I like about the room, as far as I can see it from the picture, anyway, are the two little stuffed animals and the pink stool.

Because even though the young Miss Martin could probably buy me many times over, no little girl’s bedroom is complete without some stuffed animals. 

Pictured above are Madonna and her daughter, leaving a restaurant.  They were celebrating Lourdes’ birthday, and had already pampered themselves during a rumored six hour session at One the Spa located within the ultra-pricey Shutters on the Beach Hotel in Santa Monica, CA. 

I think the biggest thing my parents ever did for my birthday was throw me a skate party.  You know, rollerskating.  To answer your question, yes, I am old.  Back in the day, skating parties were a fairly big deal. You got to invite 10 of your closest friends to skate with you and share a lunch of cold hot dogs, warm coke, and stale popcorn.  And I’ll never forget that I invited one boy.  Why? Because it was my birthday and I wanted that one boy to skate with me. I pictured us, skating hand in hand while “Against All Odds” crackled through the speakers, and the disco ball bathed us in its glow. But no, he had to go and have a crush on one of the other girls I had stupidly invited, so I spent the entire party fuming and plotting my revenge, including but not limited to possibly bashing said girl over the head with my skates.

Why, why could my mother not have been a world-famous singer/questionable actress/entertainer?  I mean, screw the rollerskating, I’d have taken a “revitalizing treatment of Swedish Massage and Seaweed Scrub & Buff treatment, concluding in a Tropical Rain Rinse” over Gary Ferguson any day.

So, I was telling a friend about my mother, and I happened to use the both quaint and ancient expression “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree” to explain why I’m just as annoying as my parents, and she laughed, Germanly. Apparently, in Germany they substitute acorns for apples, but the principle is the same. It’s universal.

And here is the adorable and previously quite demure Zahara Jolie-Pitt, illustrating that the principle is not negated by adoption and engaging in a little pointed communication with the world at large. She’s about ten years ahead of schedule if you compare her to her mother’s profanity timeline, so by the time she starts school she’ll probably be listening to Nine Inch Nails and carrying little John “Jack” Christopher Depp III ‘s blood in a vial around her neck. We in the press can only hope.

Oh, go on. Look at that beady little eye and tell me she doesn’t mean it…try! You just know she’s going to be stealing boys from Dakota Fanning and making the paparazzi weep with frustration and desire all her life.

Look at that other kid over there.  Did his mom not realize that she could upgrade to the all-leather package?  I’ve even got a seat warmer on this thing!

Every now and again our mysterious overlord The Manolo descends from his Chilean ski lodge, jets over from his villa on Lago de Como, or pries himself out of the greedy Parisian grasp of that notorious publicity hound Yves Saint Laurent to visit upon us the linkie lurve, as his dear Texan friend Jerry pronounces it.
And this pleases us, it do. It makes us feel all tingly inside, like the Angels, sitting in the hot tub with Bosley, listening to Charlie sing their praises. And we look to once again do our best for him.

In particular, by stealing from him.

Oh, don’t look at me like that. Don’t you tell me that Sabrina, Jill and Kelly never took home a stapler. I only know they didn’t take home a pad of Post-its because they hadn’t been released to the public yet. But, come to think of it, Charlie would have had some anyway. Charlie was probably sleeping with Miss Moneypenny and getting all the cream James Bond was too high and mighty to skim off, the fool!

Right, the stealing. That brings us back to stealing. It’s a blog post about stealing.

Well, as you can imagine, a well-connected guy like The Big M knows a lot of people. Heck, I can’t count the times he’s told me to “take a message” when tiresome old Madonna, George Clooney, or Bono is on the line. He gets around. To places you and I have never heard of. Without paying the cover. And he brings back things like this…click on to see the Secret Files of the Manolo… (more…)

Via Celebrity Baby Scoop, we learn that OK! Magazine reports an anonymous source blabbing that TomKat is looking to have another child, preferably a girl.

You know what that means, right?

It is so gonna be a boy. 

Wanting a specific gender of chid automatically starts the wheel of irony turning, and usually the more one outcome is desired, the likelihood of it not happening is directly proportional.

So, I advise the Cruises to reverse their current course and state loudly how much they want a little brother for Suri.   Maybe even jump on a few couches,  just to convince everyone of their sincerity.
 

What a sweet little tyke she was, back in the day. Now she’s rich and (in)famous. Who’s that girl? Your guesses in the comments, please. If you want to totally spoil the surprise, click on the picture and find out the answer.