What Have US Weekly's Investigative Reporters Uncovered This Week?

Johnny Depp is a hotter pirate than Orlando Bloom!

Lindsay loves freebies!

61% of US Weekly readers would not date a magician!

Mischa Barton got a Segway lesson from designer Roberto Cavalli on May 20th!

Jessica Biel used an ATM in London!

Jessica Alba's bikini body is 70% hotter than Drew Barrymore's!

Janet Jackson loves fresh fruit!

Kelly Slater's six-pack is 20% sexier than Jake Gyllenhaal's!

Jess may be stealing Vanessa's style by wearing Cleavage Baring Tops!

President Bush recently approved a secret order authorizing the CIA to use covert methods to harass Iran's theocratic regime!

Julia Stiles loves iced coffee!

What's On TV in My Swedish Hotel Room Tonight

Channel 1: A Hitler Documentary

Channel 2: Photos of the Stockholm Radisson accompanied by Peabo Bryson and Roberta Flack's timeless hit "Tonight I Celebrate My Love For You"

Channel 3: What appears to be either a European Disco competition or "Dancing With the Stars: Helsinki Style"

Channel 4: World Women's Table Tennis Championship, China v. Germany (China's winning) (Now Germany) (Now China)

Channel 5: "COPS" with Swedish subtitles translating a toothless, shirtless Texan man's claims that he "Wunt doin' nuthin' to mah damn wahf, Occifer"

Channel 6: CNN Business reporting about stuff the guys downstairs in the lobby bar probably really care about

Channel 7: A documentary about mosquitos

Channel 8: Goats on picnic tables

Channel 9: Porn

Channel 10: Porn

Channel 11: Porn

Channel 12: More Porn

Channel 13: Spanish guys holding cheese

Channel 14: Men walking with briefcases while someone talks about them in rapid Swedish

Channel 15: The "Dirty Sanchez" show on MTV which seems to star a dirty guy (Sanchez) who likes burping and doing things with what appears to be his own feces on a Vespa

Channel 16: Asians talking reallyreallyreally fast about something that seems reallyreallyreally exciting!

Channel 17: "America's Top Model" with Swedish subtitles attempting to translate Tyra Banks who is attempting to translate her thoughts into coherent English

Channel 18: Porn

Celebrities I Have Recently Been Told I Resemble

A young Angela Landsbury.

How To Make Matzo Ball Soup (In 20 Easy Steps)

1. Start with $10 of organic chicken breasts.

2. Plan to make baked chicken for dinner. Recipe says to dip chicken in egg whites, then coat in bread crumbs and put in oven.

3. Search frantically in pantry for container of bread crumbs. When no bread crumbs seen, substitute crushed bag of Cheese Nips found under soda bottles.

4. While chicken bakes, pat self on back for being an innovative, creative cook.

5. Proudly serve family Cheese Nip chicken entrée.

6. Remain strong when family’s disgusted comments include “Dis is yucky”, “I’d rather eat what's in the Dustbuster” and “Were you drinking when you made this?”

7. Watch ungrateful family happily eat Cheerios and Pirate’s Booty for dinner.

8. Clean up kitchen and stare morosely at weird, orange chicken breasts that are now silently taunting you.

9. Start drinking and plotting.

10. Forcefully grab biggest knife in the kitchen.

11. Take a deep breath, raise knife over head, then hack the crap out of the goddamn chicken breasts like it's Fight Day at the San Dimas Woman's Correctional Facility and you're just a few stabs away from being crowned the cell block champ.

12. Decide to make soup. While grabbing matzo ball mix from pantry, finally find container of bread crumbs. Slap it hard.

13. After soup comes to a boil, drop in matzo balls and demon chicken chunks.

14. Tell family you have a surprise for them.

15. Remain strong when family's insensitive comments include "Who wants soup when it's 80 degrees in here?", "Why do I smell boiling cheese?" and "When Mommy cooks, I cry."

16. Continue drinking.

17. Say good-night to family. Turn thermostat to 60 degrees and sit in dark room eating soup.

18. Wonder if this is how Lee Harvey Oswald started.

19. Finally give in and throw soup in garbage disposal. As Chik Nips are cruelly ground into oblivion, scream "So long sucker, see you in hell!", then wash dishes.

20. Happily eat Cheerios and Pirate's Booty for dinner and plan on dining out indefinitely.

Zen and the Art of Mother Maintenance

I’m trying to go Zen. I want to be a relaxed, at-peace-with-the-cosmos type of mother. A mother who, upon seeing Chex Mix spilled all over the newly vacuumed carpet, doesn’t scream “WHO SPILLED CHEX MIX ALL OVER THE NEWLY VACUUMED CARPET?”, but instead gazes reflectively upon said Chex Mix and appreciates its position in the world before grabbing the Dustbuster and rebalancing the universe. That type of mother.

My Zen quest isn’t because I’m a Buddhist seeking higher enlightenment. Or because I’m fed up with our shallow, materialistic society. It’s not even because I’m one of those trendy women who wear yoga togs while scarfing down $1 Double Cheeseburgers in their SUVs. Nope. It’s because I’m the mother of two rather energetic, let’s say, preschool boys.

A few months ago, I started taking evening walks to relax after my chaotic daytime hours with them. But the night I had to stop myself from slinking into the next town, dying my hair in a gas station bathroom, then buying a fake passport from a truck driver named Tiny, I realized I needed something stronger - the power of Zen.

First, I tried the “two calming breaths” technique, but this made me sleepy. Next I tried visualizing my happy place. My happy place is my bed. This made me sleepy. Then I tried slow stretches and yoga postures. Again with the sawing logs. Finally, I came up with a mantra. A short, simple phrase to repeat in my head to keep me calm and relaxed.

That night my 4 year-old son Sam woke me at midnight and started whining that he was hungry. OK, I thought. Don’t freak out. You’ve got your mantra now. Zen, baby, Zen.

“Mommy! I want a peanut butter sandwich!”

Calm peaceful mommy

“I know I should have eaten dinner, but I’m starving!”

Calm peaceful mommy

“You can’t let me go back to bed hungry!”

Calm peaceful mommy

“Thanks! Hey, I don’t like brown bread!”

Calm peaceful mommy

“Are you asleep again? I want some string cheese.”

Calm peaceful mo…

Calm peaceful…

Calm…pea, oh #I&*# it!

“SAM, GET IN YOUR BED! YOU’LL GET YOUR STRING CHEESE IN 7 HOURS WHEN THE SUN RISES AND THE REST OF THE WESTERN HEMISPHERE GETS THEIR STRING CHEESE! Love you. Good night.”

I tucked Sam in and got back into my bed, heavy with sleep. Yes, I lost it, but I lost it much later than I would have without my mantra. I was almost a Zen Master, really. I wondered if the mall had one of those orange monk robes in my size...maybe I should get my head shaved while I'm there, too...might be nice for summer.

Then I repeated my mantra one last time, closed my eyes, and…lay there wide awake. But I didn’t panic. Oh, no. Instead, I called upon my newfound Zen skills. I took a few deep breaths, visualized my happy place, stretched my arms and then effortlessly, gloriously entered Nirvana.

M.O.T.H.E.R.

M is for the many things she gave you.
Like life, for example. That's what mommy calls "doing you a major solid". Gonna be tough paying that one back, sport.

O means only that she's growing old.
Which is something we never mention. Calling mommy "Shar-Pei Face" is very hurtful. So is telling the neighbors that she's 62 and on Social Security.

T is for the tears she shed to save me.
However, that time you put her Spanx on your head, then ran into her Book Club meeting yelling that you couldn't breathe because you were stuck inside mommy's girdle and then she had to awkwardly wrestle it off of you so you didn't die from asphyxiation, those tears weren't from sadness. They were from a slightly darker place.

H is for her heart the purest gold.
Which has now been upgraded to platinum. Gold's over, man.

E is for her eyes with lovelight shining.
Yeah, that's why mommy's pupils are always dilated. From the lovelight. Let's run with that one.

R is right and right she'll always be.
Damn straight. Even when she says the only CD the family needs for the long car trip is Clay Aiken's. Even then.

Put them all together and it spells MOTHER (unless mommy's present is from Walgreen's and not Tiffany's again, then it spells MUTHA), a name that means the world to me.

Why They Wear Those Hats

Prince Charles and Camilla Parker-Bowles stand center stage. A Buckingham Palace guard stands behind them, stone-faced. Camilla shows off a sparkling engagement ring on her finger.

CAMILLA: Oh, Charles. I’m so happy we’re finally engaged!

CHARLES: Me, too, my darling! I’ve waited so many, many years to make you my wife.

CAMILLA: And one day soon, you shall be King of England and I, Queen Camilla!

As she moves to embrace him, he holds up a protesting hand.

CHARLES: Hold the phone there, love.

CAMILLA: You mean you won’t be King?

CHARLES: Oh, I’ll be King. Once that old lady with the ghastly hats finally kicks it. No, what I mean is, you shall never have the title of “Queen”, mon petit chou.

CAMILLA: But, but…I’ve been your mistress for 30 years! I’ve waited patiently, Charles! I turned down Ringo Starr for you! Why can’t I be Queen?

He embraces her.

CHARLES: My darling, my darling, my darling. Because the people of England detest you, my darling.

CAMILLA: But, why? I’m educated.

He nods.

CAMILLA: I’m cultured.

He nods.

CAMILLA: I’m pretty.

He grimaces.

CHARLES: Ah, not so much, that. What I mean, lovey-dovey, is that while I think you're gorgeous and sexy, the hoi-polloi see you as more of a turkey-necked dowager in need of a good shave.

CAMILLA: Charles! If I were capable of expressing emotion, I'd be aghast.

CHARLES: You see, sweetheart, if you were queen, we'd have to put your wrinkly old horse face on our money, and then Britain's economy would crash because nobody would want to touch it.

CAMILLA: Well, it's not like you're Tom Jones, sugarlumps. You look like a '72 Ford Pinto with the doors wide open.

He grabs his ears.

CHARLES: Humph! Well, maybe you should move to America, sweet potato. Sir Elton John's told me for years that you look like a New Jersey queen.

She glares at him.

CAMILLA: Shriveled wanker!

CHARLES: Titless harpy!

CAMILLA: Skanky pants!

CHARLES: Arseface!

Camilla gets ghetto in Charles’ face.

CAMILLA:You polo-playin’, ascot wearin’, bad dental hygiene havin’, inbred DAWG. You can just pucker up and kiss my big white shiny ass, you hear?

Charles stares at her, enthralled.

CHARLES: Oh, Camilla! Get over here and mash my bangers!

They embrace passionately.

CHARLES: Hurry! To the palace! My mum’s not home.

They run off stage together. The Palace Guard follows, but remains on the side of the stage looking stone-faced in their direction.

CAMILLA (off-stage): Bloody hell, Charles, let’s just shag right here!

CHARLES (off-stage): Just close your eyes and think of England, Camilla!

We hear sounds of their make-out session.

Without changing expression, the Guard matter-of-factly takes off his tall, black hat, holds it a few seconds, then repeatedly vomits into it. He then pauses for a moment before placing it back on his head and goose-stepping off stage.

(My sincere apologies to the wonderful people of Great Britain for this sketch. I'm pretty sure it's a lot more funny in Texas.)

Just Cuter When Spelled With a K

Karjacking

Katheter

Krackhead

Kongressional Korruption

Karcinogenic

Dekapitated

Kriminally Insane Ko-Worker

Mad Kow

Kokaine Addicted Kolleague

Kookie

Overheard at the Video Store

Oh. My. Gawd. Look at all these movies! You know which one I want to get? That new one about a museum! The funny one. Do you know what it’s called?

“Night at the Museum”?

No, that’s not it. I’m talking about the movie that’s about a museum. At night.

Yeah. “Night at the Museum”.

Noooo…it’s the one that stars that guy.

Ben Stiller.

Who? No, I mean the guy from the parents movie. That little guy with the weird hair.

Ben Stiller from “Meet the Parents”.

Ugh! Not him! I mean that movie where the guy has to meet his girlfriend’s parents.

“MEET THE PARENTS”!

Oh. Well, the guy in it…

Ben Stiller.

…Jimmy something, he’s in this new movie about a museum.

I know, genius. It’s called “Night At The Museum”.

Would you stop saying that already? Because, hello, that’s NOT it, OK?

Well, what do you think it is, Brainiac?

Um, “Museum at Night”? “Dark Museum”?

Jesus. This just reinforces why we shouldn’t be dating. “A”, you’re probably too stupid to reproduce under state law and “B”, you like Ben Stiller movies.

What’s that supposed to mean?

What do you think it’s supposed to mean?

I don’t know what I think it’s supposed to mean. And who’s this Ben Stiller you keep talking about? Is he from your office?

Oh, my God. I think you’re actually more stupid than Britney Spears. I should call US Magazine right now. Give them an on-the-spot exclusive. This has got to be better than who Lindsay Lohan's screwing this week.

Oh, look! I found it! It’s called “Night at the Museum”!

Just punch me. Right here in this vein. Come on, do it. Get it over with. Put me out of my misery. Use your car keys if you have to.

Awesome! Now let’s find that movie about those girls who are having a dream…I think it’s called “Fat Black Singers”. Hey--stop kicking the snack display! I think you're hurting the candy bars! Are you upset about something? You know I love watching movies with you, right? You're such a movie expert. Just like that guy who puts his thumbs up all the time..what's his name again?