JackedOff.com

Don’t you worry, Jacky boy. We’ve got your back. How dare they throw him out of a club? Don’t they know that having someone as famous and fabulous as Jack Hamilton in their stupid comedy club is the best thing that could happen to them??

And anyone who thinks that cow Grace Sheridon’t will be around this time next year is full of it! They were never dating, people. Come on! She used him for some press, and now she’s making sure its all about her. Please! She sucks, her show sucks, her fans suck, and the only thing good we can say about her is that . . . actually we can’t say anything good about her. We’re just glad our boy has decided to stay in Vegas awhile longer. No one can pretend they’re dating anymore if they’re not even in the same city. We love you, Jack!

CurvyGirlGuide.com

We love Grace Sheridan! Her new show Mabel’s Unstable? debuted a few weeks ago, and she is our new guilty pleasure. We love her for her voice; for her character, Mabel; for her curves; and for her willingness to speak up when it comes to what’s beautiful. Recently photographed in lingerie for an upcoming spread in People, Grace gave us at CGG a sneak peek at her in her barelytheres, and she’s gorgeous!

While she seemed cool before, her new stance of refusing any and all retouching on her photos is the coolest thing ever! Making sure they’ll be printed with every single curve and dimple, she is a real woman who real women can identify with. It’s actually ridiculous that this conversation is centered around someone that is not plus-size, for the love of all that is holy, but we’re just glad it’s happening. She knows which side her bread is buttered on. We’re on your side, Grace, because we know you’re on ours!

CelebTracker.com

Shooting wrapped on the film Soldier Boy starring Jack Hamilton this week after an extended location shoot that went weeks beyond the initial schedule. Stories from the set have reported more recent trouble with the cast showing up late to work, not having lines memorized, and arguing with the crew. What remains to be seen is whether the film itself will have as large of a draw as the shooting did.

Fans of the actors, in large part fans of Jack Hamilton, showed up in droves when filming locations were leaked to the press. Barricades and fleets of black Suburbans were required to shuttle the cast back and forth, and security was out in full force as fans jostled to get a glimpse of their favorite Sexy Scientist Guy. Although in the past Hamilton has usually been willing to pose for pictures and sign autographs, reports from those working inside the closed set say that having the fans around this time really seemed to cause a problem. He’s reported to have said they were breaking his concentration, and once even went as far as to demand that the fans be removed from a location before he would come out of his trailer. But trouble on set or not, the film has wrapped, and the studio is hoping for a quick turnaround and release, likely to capitalize on the continued success and interest in Jack Hamilton and the renewed interest in Adam Kasen, former golden boy and confirmed Hollywood bad boy.

TMZ

Redhead out on the town, but where’s her Scientist Guy? Last night our photographers caught up with Grace Sheridan as she left a restaurant in West Hollywood. Reports inside said she met with her manager, Holly Newman, and the writer for her hit show, Mabel’s Unstable?, Michael O’Connell, before leaving alone. She didn’t answer any questions, but when asked about her are-they-or-aren’t-they boyfriend, Jack Hamilton, she was visibly upset. Reports that he has plans to stay in the Nevada desert indefinitely, even though filming has ended on his new movie, Soldier Boy, certainly has set tongues wagging about the future for this couple, the worst-kept secret in Tinseltown. With Sheridan’s new solo success and her outspoken views on beauty standards, does she need the Scientist Guy?

The same night Sheridan dined with friends in Los Angeles, Hamilton was spotted in the VIP section of Lush, which seems to have become the actor’s nightly habit. Seen out almost every night on the town, the formerly private actor seems hell-bent on embracing the Hollywood culture of live fast and hard.

Are they or aren’t they? Wasn’t that the question everyone wanted the answer to, including yours truly.

I sat back in my seat, closed out of the window on my phone, and promised once more to never ever, ever, ever google myself again. Or Jack. Neither. Both. Never. I pulled out of the parking garage on Wilshire after a grueling session with Megan, looking everywhere for tan sedans. All clear. Never googling again.

Who are you kidding?

Okay, I won’t until tomorrow.

Again, who are you kidding?

I knew I would do it again later today, so this was just a little lie I told myself—a lie that made it easier to rationalize inside where the crazy hides that I somehow now had a life where I could google myself. Myself!

Flights of fancy aside, let’s go back to the question on deck.

Are they or aren’t they?

Sadly, all evidence would point to aren’t they.

Since the night Jack left for the desert we had not spoken, something that I could scarcely believe. But that’s how it happens. A day becomes two, two becomes five, a freaking week goes by, then two? And then the ludicrous becomes real. At that point, it’s just semantics. Who’s gonna be the one to reach out? Who’s gonna be the bigger person or the weakest weenie? Apparently, we were both semantic.

If someone had told me six months ago that Jack and I would break up without even a phone call, I’d have said no way. Never happen. Not to us. But were we broken up? See, that’s the thing of it. When shit goes bad, sometimes you can get bogged down in it, wrap yourself in it, but still not know. I’d analyzed the he saids and the she should haves, but in the end, I still didn’t know. But if I stepped back from it, then yes, we were probably broken up.

I winced even as I thought it, so I rolled down the windows and breathed deep, getting a little hit of smog to clear my head.

A boy and a girl meet, fall in love, and hide their romance because of boy’s fan club. Girl breaks his heart because she’s an idiot. Boy and girl get back together. Boy and girl have sex, have sex, have more of the sex. Girl gets TV show; boy drinks. Girl gets famous over sixteen pounds. Boy drinks more; girl lets boy leave one night knowing this can’t possibly be the end. Girl sweeps up glass. Boy doesn’t come back.

And in the interim, girl kicks ass. Is girl enjoying it? She’s trying to.

The show was a hit. It continued to gain momentum, and by the middle of the shortened summer season, a full season had been ordered. Same writer. Same cast. New director. Hee-hee.

We went into production on the new season almost immediately, and I threw myself into the work—creating, owning, listening, and responding. Michael’s writing had hit new strides, taking Mabel and the entire cast into places as an actress I was terrified of, which made it all the more exhilarating when I did go there and didn’t shy away.

Professionally, I was killing it. Personally, I was a ghost town.

Jack had texted me—twice, in fact, since the first time. First to tell me congratulations on the show getting picked up, that he hadn’t missed an episode, and that he was proud of me. The second time, weeks later, he texted me a picture of a television. On the screen? The Golden Girls.

I responded both times, but he never texted back. What could I glean from these texts? He was keeping tabs on what I was up to and that he was as happy as I was about the Golden Gs being back on TV Land.