You know Catherine Zeta-Jones needed to give fellatio to a cigarette something bad, because she told her full-time dog shit handler that she's got this and she took her Figaro out for a caca party at Central Park yesterday afternoon. I mean, fancy ass CZJ picking up dog shit?! That's like learning Joan Collins bathes in tap water instead of liquefied diamonds.
I highly doubt CZJ even flushes the toilet herself! When she's doing what she needs to do, her white glove-wearing servants hum an aria ("I don't want to hear the plops!" - CJZ) while spritzing the room with gardenia-scented water. After she clears her throat signaling that the lady is done, they gently pick her up, carry her to the bidet and synchronize their singing voices with the powerful streams of water cleaning her ass. Just like the Bellagio! A Bellagio bidet! Then a maid scurries in and pats CZJ's SHUSH parts with a cashmere towel while keeping her eyes up! Yes, I've thought about this in detail. My jar is already filled to the top with "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" comments, so you're going to need to get another one from the recycle bin to drop your two cents in.
Yes, Michael Douglas is currently undergoing treatment for throat cancer, so feel free to throw a judgmental glare at CZJ. I'm throwing my own, but not for the cig. I'm throwing it for those ugly ass shoes. If CZJ insists on watching her dog drop one, she could at least do it with some glamour!