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grumbling…
    SEE LINK FOR “ car crash about to happen! ”
    And Rocco DiTullio? He might look like one of those divine naked dudes at the top of the Sistine Chapel, but he’s on a secret mission that violates at least two of the commandments.
    THIS JUST IN…
    M2’s assistants plot to murder innocent Indiana transplant Calamity Corliss. Jeepers, and we is just getting started! So lock your doors and hold on to your keyboards, Blogosphere. MBK is here to deliver the dope, straight up. Sure, I could get caught, but, I gots to tell you, I am in way too deep, and my cover is Ziploc-tight. So fear not! I will
bring
it.
    HOLD FOR MORE INCOMING DIRT…
    Recently fired
’Bu
writers sue M2 for beaucoup
dinero
: They seek his house in the hills and Spike Jonze’s private number…
    Stay tuned,
’Bu
-sters!
    Yours
’Bu
-ly,
    MBK

Three
    Uncle Ross’s House—5:15 P.M.
    Corliss was sniffling, engulfed in one of Uncle Ross’s enormous outdoor canvas chairs. “I feel like a complete loser!”
    “It’s okay,” said her uncle, deep into his second martini. “Tell Uncle Ross your troubles. Does it have anything to do with your hair?”
    “Um…not exactly,” Corliss said, patting down her frizzy locks. “I didn’t have a chance to condition it today. But that’s the least of it.”
    “I’m all ears.”
    Corliss wiped the fog from her glasses so she could see her handsome uncle. His silver hair was cut just so, and his mint-colored silk lounge pants were the picture of sophistication. He was like something out of an old movie—and as gay as Disney On Ice.
    “You know what? I’d rather talk about
your
life, Uncle Ross—it’s so much more interesting.”
    “Well, that’s true,” he said, crossing his legs. “Jurgen—that Swede I’ve been dating?”
    “The guy with the big ears we met when you took me to Will Rogers beach?”
    “Corliss, please. The gays call it
Ginger
Rogers beach, and yes, he’s the one. A wildly successful lawyer, but he’s given it all up—and for what? A dog-walking business.” Uncle Ross shuddered.
    Corliss laughed, momentarily forgetting her troubles.
    “He likes walking and he likes dogs, so his big brain-storm was putting the two together. He calls this business ‘Get Your Bark On.’”
    Corliss was rocking back and forth now, laughing and steaming up her glasses again.
    “You’re hilarious, Uncle Ross.”
    “Of course I am. Do you want a martini?”
    “Uncle Ross, you know I’m not old enough.”
    “There you go, announcing your limitations again. With an attitude like that, Corliss, you won’t go far in this town.”
    Corliss knew he was trying to make her laugh, but she was too upset. “I just don’t think I can go back. I had to babysit Max Marx’s stepbrother! That was today’s assignment, can you believe it? Taking care of that snotty little brat. And I mean that both booger-wise and attitude-wise.”
    “Oh dear,” said Uncle Ross, shuddering. “
Child care!
Corliss, that
is
awful.”
    “It is! And I think the kid is secretly evil. Like the bad seed with a lisp.”
    “Speech impediments?” Uncle Ross said, clutching thepiping of his loungewear. “Is there no end to what you must endure! Corliss, had I known what this internship would entail, I never—”
    “But that’s not the worst of it,” she said, cutting him off.
    “There’s more? Wait, I’ll have to make myself another martini…”
    “Uncle Ross, Max wanted me to…” Corliss felt a bad taste rise in her mouth. “Spy on people.”
    “Really?” he asked as he stirred his gin. “Tell, tell.”
    “I can’t. It’s top secret.”
    “Corliss,” he said, clearly disappointed, “I have
so much
to teach you.”
    Corliss sighed. She knew there was nothing she could keep from Uncle Ross. “It’s a couple of actors in the cast. Max says if they start dating while we’re in production, then disaster lies ahead! Or something.”
    “Aha,” said Uncle Ross, digging deep into his new martini.