JANUARY

CELEBRITY GOSSIP! tHE BEST AND LATEST IN CELEBRITY GOSSIP, WITH THE INSIDE SCOOP ON CELEBRITIES AND SCANDAL AS WELL AS HOLLYWOOD INSIDER GOSSIP! TMZ! GAY CELEBRITIES. BRITNEY ALEX BALDWYN BILL MAHER CHER JENNIFER LOVE HEWITT

CELEBRITY GOSSIP! DR. CARLA DELVECCHIO IS HOLLYWOOD'S CELEBRITY THERAPIST.

who is theLOS ANGELS THERAPIST PSYCHOTHERAPIST that knows all the HOLLYWOOD Gossip? Dr. Carla DelVecchio.

That's why I send my celebrity clients to the exclusive and

very private HAMPTONS HEALTH CIRCLE, a PASADENA

ACUPUNCTURE CLINIC www.HamptonsHealth.com

HEARING VOICES IN HOLLYWOOD!

Ordinarily I wouldn’t drive all the way to Burbank for a therapy session. But Gary is no ordinary client. “Gary” (he’d be unhappy if I used his real name) is one of the biggest film stars in the business. What’s more, the voices in his head have returned and he needs my help.

Gary is shooting his new film at Warner Bros. He suggested we have our session around the corner from the studio, at McCormick and Schmick, which was fine by me. I looked forward to the broiled sea bass and a leisurely bottle of Clos du Bois.

But it didn’t turn out that way. We arrived in time for Happy Hour and, instead of ushering me into the dining room, Gary led me into the bar area. where cheeseburgers and parmesan chicken wings are $1.95 each. This was not the therapy session I had envisioned! What’s more, the place was noisy and we were continually interrupted by autograph hounds. So much for privacy!

“Gary,” I said, hoping to get our session done quickly, “How are you dealing with your relationship breakup?”

“Well,” he said, “it’s a question of how our managers are dealing with it. We contracted for a two-year run and now it‘s over.”

“But she’s a beautiful girl, Gary. Surely you must have felt something for her. You can’t be that gay, can you?” Gary is very masculine and, well, it just seems a waste!

“Doctor Carla,” he said, “I’d like to talk about the voices. I'm hearing them again."

"Well," I said, "if they're telling you to get back together with that girl, I'd suggest you listen to them."

"Doc, could we talk about what’s bothering me instead of what’s bothering you?”

“Yes, yes," I said, sensing his anxiety. "Don‘t worry, Gary. Those voices can be managed by increasing your medication.”

“Oh?” he said.

“Yes,” I said. “Take twice as much. You’ll be fine.”

“That’s it?” he said, wide eyed.

“Simple as that,” I said. “Back to normal.”

“Normal!” he smiled.

“Almost normal,” I said. He knows he won’t be normal until he undergoes my gay-to-straight therapy protocol and gets back into a relationship with that girl. She's too beautiful to waste! I’d have a relationship with her myself, except we know what that would be...!

AUDITION DISASTER!

I read in the trades that my patient, KAREN, just got twenty episodes of her reality show picked up by a major cable network. The series will revolve around five Hollywood housewives and their psychotherapist. Many of the episodes will be shot in the therapist’s office. Karen is quoted in the article: “We haven’t cast the part of the shrink yet but he or she must be hilarious, unpredictable and have a wacky sense of humor.” In other words, he or she must be ME!

Karen had a therapy appointment today, which meant I’d get forty five minutes to “audition” for the part. So I sent my assistant Petal shopping for props to enhance my performance. If Karen wanted “wacky and hilarious,” well then, that’s what I’d give her!

I’m not so sure the audition was a success! Karen trudged in the door, looking very depressed, with stringy hair and red, swollen eyes. “Step right in, young lady!” I said, shaking her hand. The buzzer I had hidden in my palm gave her the shock of her life. BZZZZZZHHHTTT! She practically jumped across the room! And while it didn’t exactly shake her out of her depression, it was utterly hilarious and unpredictable!

“Jesus, what was that?!” she cried, sitting down on the sofa, whereupon the whoopee cushion that Petal had nestled in the pillows exploded. BBBBBRRRFFFGGGHHTTT! Hilarious and unpredictable! Well, it went on like this for another half hour and it just kept getting better, thanks to Petal, who had supplied me with a bowl of chocolates that tasted like skunk, a corsage that squirted black ink, and an exploding cigarette.

I’m not sure Karen appreciated the work that went into my audition, as she was in a grumpy mood and mumbled incessantly about suicide and sleeping pills. Finally, Karen slumped to the floor and stopped breathing.

As a trained psychotherapist, I immediately recognized this as attention-seeking behavior and I sat down to pay some bills online. After a few minutes, my receptionist Petal stuck her head in the door. Petal, a drama major at Santa Monica College, is rehearsing a scene form "Peg O' My Heart," and has been walking around with a shanty Irish accent all week.

"Faith and b'gorrah, Miss Carla!" croaked Petal, scratching her platinum head. "Ah ain't got no book learnin', but ah thinks that they is a corpse all spread-eagled on yonder Persian rug!"

"So there is," I said, joining in the fun. "Call the boys down at 911. Tell 'em to send the paddy wagon over here, to pick up this rowdy drunkard. I'm going to lunch. Ta-ta!"

Well... it’s been two days, and I still haven’t heard from Karen. I wonder if the part of the therapist has been cast. Am I a contender for the role? I've scoured the trades but I find no mention of her cable series. It's horribly unfair of Karen to leave me hanging like this, considering the trouble and expense I went to, and the improv skills I so obviously possess! We'll discuss this at her therapy session next week!

**************************

Note to self:

Remember to show Karen your Mamie Eisenhower impression!

POUTING PRINCESS PUNKED!

I’m so embarrassed about what happened in my office today! But my receptionist Petal says getting it off my chest it will be a catharsis, a spiritual tonic, an expiation of my guilt. (Are they teaching those words in junior college now?)

Anyway, one of my patients (a buxom STARLET known for her numerous romances with tattooed musicians), sent me her twelve year-old daughter for therapy last week.

“My little Becky is a mess,“ sighed Starlet, who had caught sight of herself in the mirror and was fussing intently with her frosted bangs. “See what you can do with her. I’ve made a list of things that need fixing. Here, take it.” The list read:

THINGS WRONG WITH BECKY:

Fat

Disrespectful to mother

Willful/disobedient

What's with the red streak in hair?

Poor posture -- Quasimodo!

Refuses tummy tuck -- I'll buy!

Poor self-image

Will not use creme rinse

Attempted suicide on my birthday

Refuses to call me “sis” in public

Etc., etc.

Well...after my session with Becky, the sweet young thing (or so I thought!) went home and told her mother I had made some horrific pronouncements. I was quoted as saying Starlet did not love her, that Becky would never be as beautiful as her mother and that she would never find success in life. Outrageous! I only thought it! When Starlet called me for an explanation, I told her I had said no such things, but she didn’t believe me. And so I invited her to hide in my office during her daughter’s next session, where I’d coax a confession from the mischievous child.

As Becky entered my office for her session, I turned on a tape recorder hidden behind a stack of books on my desk. We sat and talked casually and then something went horribly wrong. Becky turned her head and asked, “Hey, that curtain is moving! Is somebody standing behind it?”

She got up and pulled the curtain back, revealing her mother, holding a Shitzu in a purple leather Michael Kors Lattington Oversized Satchel with silvertone hardware. Absolutely divine! She could have stepped out completely naked, with her boobies flying north and south, and I wouldn't have noticed!

“Mother!” shouted Becky. “What are you doing here?! Are you spying on me? Did you and Dr. Delvecchio plan this?!”

I recognized instantly that my reputation was at risk and so I stepped forward and glared at Starlet. “My God,” I said, “I can’t believe you would do this! How did you get in my office? Get out of here immediately!”

“But, Dr. Carla,” stammered Starlet, “you told me to hide right here and…”

“How dare you make such an insinuation!” I said, clutching her frosted bangs and dragging her across the room. “These sessions are private! Haven‘t you done your daughter enough harm? Get out!” I kicked her backside with my foot and pushed her out the door, locking it. Then I went to my intercom and pushed a button. “Petal,” I said, “if that woman doesn’t leave my office immediately, call security!”

Becky stared at me for a moment and then stepped forward. “Doctor DelVecchio,” she said, “you are the coolest shrink I have ever met. No one ever stands up to my mother like that! I have a confession to make.”

“Yes?” I said.

“I told my mother you said some bad things, which you didn’t. I’m sorry for lying. You’re really cool.”

“Well that’s alright, Becky,” I said. “Don’t worry about it. But I think we should conclude our session for today. In fact, there really is no reason for you to continue your therapy. You’re a fine young lady. I’m releasing you, and I wish you the very best of luck.”

“Gosh, thank you,” said Becky, moving toward the door. “Well, good bye.”

“Good bye,” I said, reaching across my desk and turning off the recorder. “And by the way you‘re adopted.”

LATER THAT NIGHT...

My husband Ostergarrd is such a dear! I arrived home to find him sitting in the greenhouse, playing a lovely tune on his great, golden harp (he did a splendid job with the spray paint!). Ostergarrd gazed heavenward, his fingers sweeping the strings in great, florid arcs, while his prized Peruvian Ontogolssum orchid sat on a nearby stool. The orchid, whom he calls Dolores, is a delicate thing with petals like tiny, spotted slippers. As I stepped closer, Ostergarrd sent me a wink.

“I'm playing Afternoon of a Faun," he whispered, his slender hands swirling out a rapturous chord. "Dolores adores anything Debussy."

“Dolores is a true sophisticate,” I said, wondering what kind of tune a Debussy was. Probably not a polka!

Dr. DelVecchio's

Hollywood Psychotherapist Blog

THIS ENTRY WAS POSTED ON JANUARY 12 AT 10:32 A.M.