UPDATE: Pete Sampras

For some weeks now Your Mama has been beating and banging the brains of our better connected tipsters and sources trying to figure out just exactly WHO purchased tennis titan Pete Sampras' big Bev Hills mansion that was on the market for and spine tingling $23,000,000. Remember that hoity toity house children, all English Manor and exquisite with a-may-zing wood paneling, a spectacular oval swimming pool and park like grounds?

Anyhoo, after pulling our scalp nearly bald with frustration, we finally heard from one of our most unimpeachable sources Wanda Whistleblower who whispered conspiratorially in Your Mama's big ear that the luxurious house on lavish Loma Vista Drive was purchased by none other than residual rich Will and Grace co-creator Max Mutchnick and his unfortunately named entertainment attorney husband Erik Hyman. If the children put on their thinking caps they may recall that these are the same two high powered Hollywood homosexuals who got lezbiriffic talk show queen Ellen Degeneres to fork over twenty-nine and some million clams for their previous manse on Cabrillo Drive in Beverly Hills.

According to Miz Whistleblower, ever since these two real estate savvy men cashed Ellen's fat check they conducted a serious search for another trophy estate and they found it in the walled and gated 10,376 square foot mansion that includes 6 bedrooms and 12 bathrooms. Now that the deal is done, Your Mama imagines these two gentlemen are already on the horn lining up a few full time gurls–or boys–whose only responsibility will be to keep all twelve of them terlits sparking clean.

At this point Your Mama can not confirm the sale price of the house. However, one interesting tidbit that Miz Whistleblower did cough up is that on the day the papers were signed and the 1+ acre estate was turned over from the king of tennis to the two real estate queens, Miss Mutchnick handed Mister Sampras a can of spray paint and asked if he would autograph the tennis court. Miz Whistleblower swears on her over stuffed Cross Your Heart that Mister Sampras obliged.

Amanda Beard Shedding Her Venice House

SELLER: Amanda Beard
LOCATION: Garfield Avenue, Venice, CA
PRICE: $1,045,000
SIZE: 981 square feet, 3 bedrooms, 1 bathroom
DESCRIPTION: Come relax, and live Venice style in this charming and contemporary home. This home has it all, with a beautiful enclosed courtyard fully landscaped with exotic/imported plants. This 3 Bdrm/1 Br home is open with fantastic natural light, the kitchen has been redone, with gorgeous counter-tops and combed grain walnut cabinetry, a spa bath, as well as a fabulous open grassy garden in the backyard, additional upgrades and a detached garage. In this home, have it all.

YOUR MAMAS NOTES: Thanks to a covert contact from Chatterbox Chad, Your Mama has learned that seven time Olympic medalist and boobalicious bikini babe Amanda Beard has listed her Venice, CA beach bungalow for sale with an asking price of $1,045,000. Some of the children who don't know much about Miss Beard's breast stroking accolades may be more familiar with her actual breasts which she gleefully showed to the world on the glossy pages the July 2007 issue of Playboy.

Property records show that Miss Beard purchased her lilliputian cottage in August of 2006 for $1,045,000, a number all the eagle eyed children will recognize as the very same number that Miss Beard is currently asking for the house. Your Mama does not even need to consult our bejeweled abacus to figure out that Miss Beard is likely to lose a little money on this real estate transaction, a distinct possibility about which Your Mama is 100% certain all you churlish real estate Chicken Littles will make of huge hay. But you know what? Your Mama does not want to hear it. Everyone who reads the papers or listens to the damn news programs already knows the real estate market in Los Angeles is in a slump. Nobody needs any of you naughty children beating that dead, dead, dead horse.

According to property records, Miss Beards three bedroom and one bathroom beach bungalow measures in at a sardine can sized 981 square feet. How anyone managed to squeeze 3 bedrooms and a living/dining/kitchen combination into a house that measures in at less 1000 square feet is well beyond Your Mama's space planning comprehension.

Located about a mile from the beach and walking distance to Marina del Rey, the fully hedged and private property looks to have had some recent landscaping and renovation work. The front yard has been done up like a cozy courtyard with large stones, slate patios and a fun ad fantastic orange outdoor fireplace from the 1970s. Lawhd children, Your Mama just swoons over just about anything that is orange and this fire place is no exception.

Inside it appears that Miss Beard visited Ikea for her depressingly ordinary living and dining room furniture. The kitchen has been fitted with perfectly reasonable wood cabinets and black granite counter tops and we do appreciate that she injected the room with a little color with the red dining room chairs. However, it is all a little tight, isn't it?

Miss Beard got a little gusty in the master bedroom with that ka-razy black and white duvet which we find acceptable if not our particular taste. But gurly-gurl should have high-tailed it right back to Ikea for a pair of inexpensive bedside tables so she could toss those ghastly grandma style ones in the garbage. Your Mama can appreciate that Miss Beard attempted to add a little lighting style with that $99.00 capiz shell chandelier from West Elm, but if she really wanted to make a statement she should have called our good friend Gwen Carlton who custom makes the most ravishing capiz shell creations that money can buy and make those things from West Elm look like chintzy and cheap knock-offs...which of course, they are.

Anyhoo, moving out into the back yard and we have a nice deck for sipping gin and tonics and a wee patch of grass for the pooches. The two-car garage has been turned into some sort of uglee office/surf board storage area. Clearly Miss Beard's strength are competitive swimming and posing in the nood and not doing up the day-core.

Your Mama wishes Miss Beard all the luck in the world unloading her teeny tiny American dream and we sincerely hope that when she get settled in her next nest she'll ring Your Mama so that we can give her a long list of nice gay decorators who can help her with the day-core.

Morning Mish Mash

Listen my little chickadees, today is a travel day. Your Mama and the Dr. Cooter are once again winging our way to the other coast for a little rest and relaxation beside Sister Cooter's cement pond so we won't be available to discuss celebrity real estate until Friday...at the earliest.

But because we don't want to leave y'all shivering and shaking like a damn junkie, we're gonna drop this mish mash on you before we jump into the back of a long black town car and head to the el aeropuerto.

Now behave. We don't want to arrive and have to hand out a smack down because y'all couldn't control your mouths.

1.
Your Mama has been plain negligent about posting an update on the Malibu estate that Californication's David Duchovny and his wifey Téa Leoni put on the market a few weeks ago...

Turns out they changed their minds. Yes puppies, that's right, they de-listed their $12,000,000 house. According to their real estate agent, the fickle minded pair changed their damn minds just a couple of short weeks after listing their Carbon Mesa Road casa.

The luverly Ann Brenoff who pens the LA Times' Hot Properties column went looking for the poop and when she asked the listing agent if the property was withdrawn due to an offer being presented, the secretive agent declined any additional comment.

So what was all that fussing and whining by the Missus 'bout the children looking sunburned and sleepy and the Missus wanting the children to go to get educated in a fancy Manhattan school? Shoot, if Your Mama were the betting type, and we're not, we'd say there surely sounds like there could more to this story than meets the ol' evil eye.

2.
Several weeks back Mister Big Time asked, "Where in the world is...Robert Downey Jr." Well children, Your Mama does not know where he is now, but we do know where he was.

Mister Big Time referenced several articles in major publications which described the location of Mister Downey Jr.'s leased home base as "at the end of a leafy cul-de-sac" and "at the end of a cul-de-sac in Brentwood." That leafy cul de sac in Brentwood is Greenock Place where Mister Downey Jr. resided in a 5 bedroom and 5.5 bathroom house which listing information describes as dramatic, completely private with lush landscaping and fantastic backyard with a sparkling pool.

No children, Mr. Downey Jr.'s former home is not for sale. As it turns out the 5,380 square foot contemporary has become available to lease at $12,500 per month, which indicates that Mister Downey Jr. has done decamped to new digs. In fact, Your Mama hears through the real estate gossip grapevine that the Oscar nominated actor with the troubled past recently purchased a home, but at this point it's just rumor and gossip children so don't anybody go repeating that shit like it's gospel. Seriously, for all we really know, he's sleeping up on Jack Nicholson's couch.

3.
According to the Wall Street Journal, some musician named Usher has reduced the asking price of his suburban Atlanta mansion. After raising the asking price last September from $1,950,000 to $2,300,000, the singer is now asking an even steven $2,000,000. Your Mama discussed this crib back in September of 2007

Located in the same gated golf where tabloid train wrecks Whitney Houston and Bobby Brown owned a home before they went all (allegedly) druggie and splitsville, the 8,022 square foot house includes 5 bedrooms, 4.5 bathrooms, a private hair salon (natch), professional recording studio installed by previous owner, music mogul L.A. Reid.

Your Mama would feel sorry for Mister Usher, but we don't even know who he is.

4.
Your Mama is feeling in a generous mood today so we're going give Mister Big Time another helping hand today, this time regarding the Los Feliz residence that was recently sold by septuagenarian actress Ronnie Claire Edwards for $3,850,000. Mister Big Time was unsure of who purchased the property but because of the title and deed records assumed, correctly, that the new owner is a celebrity. According to wickedly well informed Lucy Spillerguts–a luvlee ladee with unparalleled and potent powers of discovery–the 6,516 square foot house was purchased by Michael Balzary, the Red Hot Chili Pepper bass player who the world better knows as Flea.

Mister Balzary has been on a bit of real estate whirligig lately. Property records (and reports) show that in late 2006 the moneyed musician forked over $9,980,000 for a 2.01 acre ocean front spread in Malibu with a 2,731 square foot house.

Unfortunately for Mister Balzary, he seems to have gotten caught in a real estate squeeze with his previous residence in Malibu which he's been trying to sell for a very long time...since at least late 2006. Your Mama discussed the Sycamore Meadows Drive property back when it was listed at $4,800,000. According to current listing information, the asking price has been seriously karate chopped to $2,800,000, which is just $350,000 more than he paid for the 4,882 square foot house in 2002. Oh dear.

5.
Your Mama received a correspondence from Mister Smiley who linked us over to an article in the NY Post about yet another celebrity who is losing his house, this time it's rapper/actor DMX, a man whose real name, Earl Simmons, is a lot less scary sounding. Anyhoo, according to the NY Post, Mister DMX purchased an East Harlem townhouse in 2001 with the hope of converting it from an SRO into luxury rentals...Oh, you know what, children, it's the middle of the damn night and we have got to go. So if you're interested in this DMX person, go read the NY Post.

Jamie Foxx Trots Out Of Tarzana

SELLER: Jamie Foxx
LOCATION: Van Alden Drive, Tarzana, CA
PRICE: $2,230,000
SIZE: 5,428 square feet, 3 bedrooms, 3.25 bathrooms
DESCRIPTION: Palm Desert Resort meets architectural style in Tarzana, CA! This 3 bedroom + 3.25 bath estate is at the foot of Braemar Country Club and Santa Monica Mtn Conservatory, has just been freshened to a crisp finish and includes media theater, soundproofed rooms and orchestral wiring used as recording studio and vocal booth, game room, sports court, gym, pool, pool house, great room, outdoor lin'g deck, motor court for about 10 cars, all tucked away behind a secluded wall, on approx. .84 acres & 5400 sq. ft.

YOUR MAMAS NOTES: The 40-acre Thousand Oaks estate that Oscar winning and egotastic actor Jamie Foxx purchased back in June of 2006 must be ready for occupancy because the filthy rich funny man has listed his long time Tarzana crib for sale with an asking price of $2,230,000. Actually, Mister Foxx's den (of alleged iniquity) has been listed since mid-April, but all us real estate gossips musta been asleep at the wheel because none of our damn eagle eyes seem to have noticed until now. If Your Mama is being honest, which we always are, we can't take credit for locating this listing on our own. We learned about it only after being alerted by a friendly tipster who asked that we call him The Driver.

Property records indicate the 5,428 square foot single story sprawler was purchased way back in 1997 for $930,000 and it's well known that the kooky comedian has thrown some ka-razy parties here. In fact, back in 2006 the neighbors famously called the po-leese complaining that a nekkid basketball game was being played on Mister Foxx's private half-court. Yes children, that's right, nood basketball. Can you imagine anything less sexy? All that man-junk flying around hither and yon is not attractive and quite frankly it sounds more than a little painful. Mister Foxx claimed he was not home when the po-po showed up to put the kibosh on the game and has said that most of the nekkid dribblers were in fact ladees, a reasonable explanation from a man who has long battled rumors of enjoying the sexual company of another man every now and then. We're not sayin' anything, we're just sayin' that's what people say. As far as Your Mama knows, he's nothing but a full time ladee luver.

Anyhoo, listing information for Mister Foxx's Vanalden Avenue property indicates the entire property has been recently freshened up. And it certainly does look Spic and Span clean don't it children? However, since Your Mama never received an invitation to one of Mister Foxx's famous par-tays we can't say whether we're looking at the creamy beige handiwork of a nice gay decorator if a professional stager was paid the big bucks to clean the bodily fluids off the floors and truck in a butt load of comfortable looking but not particularly compelling furniture. Due to all the rolled up towels, potted orchids and beach balls floating in the pool, Your Mama suspects the latter.

Whatever the case, it's clear Mister Foxx did up and did over this house to be his own private Las Vegas. Listing information reveals that in addition to the three bedrooms and 2 full and 3 quarter baths (good heavens children, what is a damn quarter bath?) the 1949 renovated ranch includes a home gym (which isn't so surprising given the size of Mister Foxx's 40 year old pumped pex), a game room in the basement, a media/music room, and a sound proofed recording studio.

The backyard is a regular resort that includes a large deck along the back of the house for chillin' and grillin', large flat lawn areas for fierce games of croquet, a large rectangular pool with adjacent pool house, a sunken spa and, of course, the infamous half court sport court where all the unclothed sport magic happens.

There are a couple of additional features that stand out to Your Mama.

1. The televisions. There seems to be a boob-toob in every room. The kitchen alone has three...or are those small screens closed circuit? Hmm.

2. The bathtub. Appropriately done in a flesh tone, the behemoth bathtub will easily fit Mister Foxx and several large breasted bitches for some group tub love. Not pictured is an equally commodious and mulit-person friendly shower.

3. The aquariums: Your Mama is not a fan of the residential built in aquarium because too often they remind us of the orthodontist office where Sister Woman got her braces tightened. However, the two flanking the fireplace in the living room appeal more than most we've seen. If only that giant mirror above the fireplace was removed, we might actually be able to focus on the aquariums.

4. The kitchen: Sorry Mister Foxx, but it's disappointing. Well appointed and decently sized, but the speckled granite is dated. Listing information says there are SubZero and Wolf appliances, but that stove does not look like a damn Wolf, not with that puny hood. None the less, we'll allow that this room may in fact look better in person than in the photo.

5. The privacy: Or rather, the lack of it. We're shocked to see that Mister Foxx's landscapers did not plant privacy hedges around the property. It appears to Your Mama that the neighbors can peer right over the backyard fence in some spots. No wonder they called the po-leese on the nood ball players.

6. The pool house: We love it, or the idea of it. Not fond of the beige tile, but we note the convenient half bathroom, the mini-kitchen for pool side snacks and the dry sauna, perfect for a little heated up hanky panky.

7. Parking: Listing information indicates that there is parking for 10 cars, which pretty much makes the front of the mini-mansion a petite parking lot. However, if you're a party thrower, being able to put all the guest automobiles behind the drive gates is a sweet thing.

Now that Mister Foxx will be shacked up on a 40 acre mogul-style estate in rural Thousand Oaks where the nearest neighbors will need binoculars to see what's going on by the pool, the hard partying and high living Lothario can have all the naked basketball tournaments his little heart desires without risk of the po-po turning up to shut down the nood and naughty shenanigans.

Winona Ryder Rydes Out of Gramercy Park

According to property records and the dirt dishing Page Six column in the NY Post, Oscar nominated actress Winona Ryder quietly sold her Manhattan co-operative apartment located at 1 Lexington Avenue in the relatively halcyon Gramercy Park neighborhood. Miss Ryder sold her crib to neighbors for $2,200,000 so details on the second floor apartment are slim. However, because the 12-story apartment house faces private Gramercy Park, Your Mama presumes the unit includes a coveted key to the gated green space.

Since Miss Ryder's acting career has been in a major tail spin since her 2001 arrest and 2002 conviction for shop lifting at swanky Saks Fifth Avenue in Bev Hills, some snarks and real estate gossips will surely speculate that the sale may be due to a lack of coin. But Your Mama would not be so quick to jump to that conclusion, because not only did the born blond celeb make boo-coo bucks in 1990s, she now has several film projects in pre- and post-production including soon to be released The Informants and next year's Star Trek.

Prop records show that Miss Ryder, who has been recently rumored to be humping around with Keanu Reeves, still owns a three bedroom house on Union Street in San Francisco that she purchased in 1995 for $1,3000,000 as well as her long time four bedroom mini-manse on N. Doheny Drive in Los Angeles that she purchased in 1998 for $2,600,000.

Miss Ryder's now former apartment is located just a few buildings away from Oscar winning actress Julia Roberts' Manhattan digs and a few floors down from the large duplex that Uma Thurman–yet another Oscar nominated actress in the 'hood–owned with ex-huzband and nanny-luver Ethan Hawk. Property records show that Uma Thurman sold that 7th and 8th floor co-op at 1 Lex in October of 2006 for $8,600,000 which was just a few months after she bought another smaller duplex in the building for $2,65o,000. Phew. Did you get that children?

UPDATE: Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie

Last week Your Mama picked up and discussed a real estate rumor first put out by E!'s celebrity gossip queen Ted Casablanca that Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie had done sold their $3,500,000 digs in below sea level New Orleans. Well children, according to a story in yesterday's The Times-Picayune, which was forwarded to Your Mama by a gal we call Soozee Setsitstraight, it ain't true. Surprise!

According to the brief article, several real estates who do their bizness in the French Quarter dismissed the rumor last week and now a representative for the peripatetic pair also denies that the quickly multiplying super stars have sold or are selling their Big Easy mansion. The paper also notes, as did Your Mama in our previous discussion, that the property remains in a trust controlled by Mister Pitt.

So it appears to have been a celebrity real estate false alarm. It happens. But none the less, Your Mama would love to know where Miss Casablanca got her information and also to find out if Teddy Boy will be giving that source a bare bottom spanking.

No More "Howdy Dody"

All right, I'm starting to get seriously annoyed. Losing George Carlin was bad enough, and in fact, it was beyond bad, because George, through his art and his courage, made Freedom of Speech more of a reality. We've never had true Freedom of Speech in this country, only the Freedom to say what doesn't piss too many people off. Lenny Bruce pushed the boundaries towards Freedom of Speech, and George took up the push when Lenny fell off the toilet with a needle in his arm, and pushed them still farther. They ain't there yet, but we're still pushing. So anyway, George was irreplaceable.


So here I sit, still reeling from the loss of George, and what do I see on my TV? Delightful, daffy Dody Goodman has died today also! No! Unacceptable! We can not lose so much laughter within 24 hours! The least The Universe could do is balance it out by taking away someone horrible as well, like say Dick Cheney. No one would miss him. (All right. There are people who would miss Dick Cheney, but those people are Evil also. And Dick wouldn't miss them. That's the whole point of a shotgun. It's hard to miss your friends's faces.)


Dody Goodman should never have died. Not ever. She was a woman who was just zany, sweet, and full of irrepressible high spirits. She was gentle and fun, and never hurt anyone. All she brought into the world was joy and laughter. It was impossible to be other than gleeful when you were with her. I never spent a second in her vicinity that wasn't utterly happy. She was like walking, talking Vodka. You could get high on Dody. The only bad thing she ever did was leave.


All right, she was 91. But that's no excuse for her death. I'm 20 years her senior, and you don't see me dying do you? When is science going to do something about Natural Causes anyway? Did you know that Natural Causes is the number one killer of old people? Stop the slaughter!


Dody's show business career began on Broadway (Start at the top; it saves time. And people thought she was a scatterbrain.), getting noticed in musical shows like Call Me Madam (I mean it. Call me! I haven't had a call from Madam since Wayland Flowers died. I guess she just misses his fist too much. I know just how she feels.), Wonderful Town (Any town with Dody in it was a wonderful town!), and High Button Shoes.


But it was Jack Paar who introduced her to America, by making her a regular guest on the old, post-Steve Allen, pre-Johnny Carson Tonight Show. Jack Paar said of her: "She was, it soon became apparent, indeed real, and the more she talked the more obvious it became that no one could have made up Dody Goodman. She came on the show my second night, and soon millions of TV viewers were asking each other whether this seemingly dumb blond was actually real. Her hesitant delivery gave the impression that her picture tube was on but her sound wasn't. Dody never seemed to try to be funny; she just stumbled into it." Speaking as someone world famous for her stumbling (Actually, I stagger.), I know a genius stumbler when I see one.



Eventually Jack noticed that people were noticing that she was funnier than he was, and in a long-honored show business tradition, he fired her. Well, he didn't last much longer either, did he?

Around this time Dody met and became friends with Edward Everett Tanner III, who was better known to the world at large as Patrick Dennis, the first novelist ever to have three books on the New York Times Best Seller List at the same time, the author of Auntie Mame, and a hero of Little Dougie's. He cast Dody as fictional movie star Helen Highwater in his great comic photo-novel Little Me, a book often (too often) inexplicably compared with my own humble and always abject autobiography, My Lush Life. (Really, I don't understand it. Little Me is a novel. It's fiction! My book is non-fiction. It's my life! I mean honestly; if I weren't real, how could I be dictating this to Little Dougie? I rest my case. That said, Little Me, is one of the funniest books ever written. If you've never read it, do so.)


Pat Dennis decided to illustrate his book with faked photos, using his enormous circle of friends in New York Theater to play his huge cast of characters. Look how gorgeous Dody was back then.


The talented actor/photographer Cris Alexander took all the pictures. In the movie of Dennis's Auntie Mame, Cris played the Macy's toy department manager who fires Mame on Christmas Eve. Cris is still alive. Universe, we want to keep him that way!

Here's a very funny picture from Little Me, with the versatile Dody playing both Helen Highwater and her stand-in, and Jeri Archer playing Belle Poitrine ("Belle Poitrine" basically translates as "Nice tits."), at the christening of Belle's baby. In this picture Dody must have been excited, because she is beside herself!

And what does this picture of Kurt Bieber as Letch Feely playing Adam in the Garden of Eden, also from Little Me, have to do with Dody Goodman? Well, nothing, but I love the picture, and couldn't resist including it. Kurt is also still alive, but I imagine his poitrine isn't quite so spectacularly belle now as it was back then.


The best selling Little Me prompted a follow-up, First Lady, which, though hilarious, wasn't as successful. However, Dody had a larger role this time, as Countess Clytie Dinwiddie, the First Sister-in-Law. Here she is with the book's star, Peggy Cass, admiring a large work of art in Italy in First Lady.


In First Lady, Clytie marries a shady count, and dies on the Titanic. Here's another of Cris Alexander's hilarious illustrations.


Of course, most of the people who used to enjoy Dody on The Jack Paar Tonight Show are dead. Folks who remember Dody vividly now do so from the 1970s Norman Lear parody soap opera Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman, in which Dody played Martha Shumway, Mary Hartman's lovable, scatterbrained mother, who, in the show's revised version, Forever Fernwood, was married to Tab Hunter! Lucky Dody, and lucky Tab too, even if he'd have preferred marrying Kurt Bieber. (Who knows? Maybe Tab's had Kurt. Kurt is quite openly gay. And if you'd like a glimpse under Kurt's fig leaf, there are some photos from Colt of some nude gay porn work Kurt did that are well worth tracking down online. I'd show you them myself, but this is a Famly Flog, as anyone who read my George Carlin memorial piece just below, Gorgeous George, knows. My motto is "The family who flogs together, snogs together.")



And who was one of the world's biggest Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman fans? You got it. Little Dougie. He was fascinated by, and devoted to it. He even visited the set. (The show was shot on the same stage where Little Dougie's very first-ever produced TV script, for Seymour Presents, was shot.) Here is Little Dougie in the Shumway kitchen set, the same set in the cast picture above, and in the shot of Dody-as-Martha that ends this column.


Yikes! Ever seen anything uglier and tackier than the blue, polyester leisure suit Dougie is wearing in that picture? The 1970s were humanity's fashion low point.

Little Dougie spent some time in the early 1980s working in a bank in Hollywood, a sort of pre-purgatory, time served for his sins while still alive, so that when he dies, he can tell St. Peter, "I worked in banks for two years." and St. Peter will reply, "You've done purgatory. You get to go right to Heaven, which in your case, is sort of an eternal gay porn movie with comedy interludes." (The fact that Dougie played Peter in a ghastly children's religious TV special called Magic Boy's Easter for the Lutheran Church won't hurt - he hopes.)

Anyway, Dody was a regular customer at his branch, and Little Dougie got to know her a bit then. He says she was a breath of zany delight whenever she'd come in. No one could be less bankish than Dody, who was just plain wacky. Most of the people working at the bank had no idea who she was. Bankers. All they know is money and numbers and greed, but Dougie worshipped Dody and always welcomed the crazy subversion of order that floated about her like an aura of nuttiness, and made otherwise dreary banking days a delight.

Dody never stopped working. Even at 90, she was still recording voices for cartoons. I'm told a lot of children knew her later from some John Travolta move she was in about Greece. I've never seen it, as I try to avoid anything with Mr. Revolta in it. I love Dody, and Ray Walston too for that matter, and even Greece, or at least Greek-style sex, but not enough to suffer through that scientologist's preening, or Olivia Newton-John.

Speaking of nutball religions, Dody, like me, was a Christian Scientist, which makes her living to be 91 a miracle! (Devout Christian Scientists are known for many things, but longevity isn't one of them.) Unlike me however, Dody took Mary Baker Eddy's inanities seriously. I was never foolish enough to actually pay attention to anything that mad woman wrote or said, or ever attend services, or ever practice her brand of insanity. I mean honestly, the stupid woman told her followers not to drink alcohol! What a ratbag!

Well Dody was always kind of nuts too, but in a good way - no, in a great way. And so Little Dougie finds himself, as he did when his mother died (another of Mary Baker Eddy's thought-slaves), again mourning the departure of a Christian Scientist. Dody was one of a kind. One of a great kind. Mrs. Eddy always told her followers to "Know the Truth." (although she didn't mean it. She meant "Believe my rambling irrationality.") Well I do know the Truth, and the Truth is, Dody Goodman was fabulous! Goodbye Goodman.

Cheers darlings.

Carly Simon Selling West Village Digs

SELLER: Carly Simon
LOCATION: Commerce Street, New York, NY
PRICE: $3,800,000
SIZE: 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms
DESCRIPTION: Famous celebrity's 2 bedroom, 2 bathroom duplex in a townhouse renovated to perfection. Upstairs–Bedroom, bath, sitting room; Downstairs–Bedroom, bath, living room, modern kitchen with top of the line appliances, through wall air, 2 working fireplaces. Beautifully decoarated–utterly romantic, one of a kind on the prettiest street in the West Village.

YOUR MAMAS NOTES: Way back in the Dark Ages when Your Mama was a still a fresh faced upstart muhtrick-u-latin' and living on our mama's generous dime, we endured a sleep talking and opera singing house mate who was neither tiny nor named Tim but for the purposes of our discussion we'll call Tiny Tim anyway. Our little Tiny Tim, a man whom Your Mama referred to privately as Meester Rrreeko Swa-vay, had a serious and decidedly dangerous desideratum for draping and swagging yard after yard of teal, paisley and peach colored fabric. Oh yes he did children. Tiny Tim stretched and twisted his foul colored cloth over the windows, across the dressers and looped it up and around the damn bed.

Added to that fabric freak show was a candelabra (natch), a couple of gilded angel figurines (we don't lie children) and dozens of candles that Tiny Tim laid on every flat surface in the room and within inches of all that flammable fabric. He may have only been 22 (or maybe he was 24), but he was convinced his ridiculous "romantic" day-core would woo the pants off his fair haired dates. And much to our mortification and chagrin, Tiny Tim was right. The man was an undeniable (and rather loud) Casanova.

None the less, Your Mama should not have to tell the children that the whole scene in Tiny Tim's Lair of Luv so upset our delicate sensibilities that we had no choice but to move out. Not only did our brow furrow and our lips pucker with deep dismay from just knowing all those yards of revolting textile were hanging unnecessarily about, it scared the buhjeezis right out of us knowing that Tiny Tim was thisclose to setting the damn house ablaze while his eyes rolled back in fornication induced bliss.

Well children, all these hundreds of years later we have found Tiny Tim's spiritual mother of the draped fabric and it is Carly Simon. The accomplished and beloved singer/songwriter has earned an Academy Award, a Golden Globe and two damn Grammys. She's also earned her self an honorary slot in Your Mama's Unsettling and Senseless Fabric Swagging Hall of Fame.

Okay, maybe it's not as bad as all that and we're just having a dramatic moment, but the children will note the red swagged curtains in the living room with the funeral home parlor balloon sheers, that sage green thing-a-majig draped over the stool in the bedroom and who could possibly miss all that silky and shiny shit twisted onto the four poster bed? Perhaps it is all to distract from that sad air conditioner hanging out in an odd spot on the wall?

Anyhoo, last week we learned from Braden Keil at the NY Post that Miz Simon's West Village pied a terre hit the market with a somewhat surprisingly high asking price of $3,800,000. The two bedroom and two bathroom duplex spreads over a reported 1,2000 square feet and occupies two floors of a fully renovated Federal style townhouse on comely and cozy Commerce Street, which listing information fairly accurately describes as, "the prettiest street in the West Village."

Property records and reports indicate that after Miz Simon purchased her urban getaway in early 2004 for around $1,200,000, she gut renovated the unit. She then bee-lined for the fabric district in the West 30s to buy up bolt after bolt of fabric only a gypsy could love.

Obviously Your Mama is not down with the textile situation or the exposed brick or that faux paint crap behind the bath tub. And obviously we are puzzled, perplexed and outraged by the giant bath tub sitting out in the middle of the damn room and next to a pee-ana in the second floor sitting room. However, that does not mean we are unable to see the charm and possibilities with this place. This could be perfect for as a pied a terre for a screaming rich and famous type looking for a pricey pad to which they can stumble home after a long night at Tortilla Flats or the nearby celebrity drinking hole The Waverly Inn. Don't the television viewing children think this might be a fine love nest for Blake Lively and Penn Badgley from that Gossip Girl program? Mmmhmmm, we do too.

Anyhoodle, Your Mama also appreciates that the two bedrooms are on different floors and that each has its own private pooper, always a good thing. The two functioning fireplaces work for us–we do, after all, have an itty bitty bit of the romantical in our cold heart–and although it's not exactly our Barbie Dream Kitchen, we feel good about the open shelves for displaying the dinnerware and gorgeous gew-gaws from Moss. We totally love how the architect made efficient and clever use of space under the stairs for knick knacks, cook books and other assorted kitchen items even if it does look a wee "architecturally" self conscious.

Don't anybody misunderstand Your Mama here. We love us some Carly Simon and have at least six and maybe 12 of her songs on our iPod rotation at all times. And although we tease and make fun of her fetish for fabric, Your Mama actually appreciates that her apartment is a clear and accurate reflection of its owner and her eclectic taste and style. So while we might not like her day-core, we sincerely appreciate that she works her own thing when it comes to putting her home together. Her day-core is much like herself, original, quirky and endearing for its flaws.

In a naked display of real estate nepotism, Miz Simon–who lives mostly in bucolic, beachy and high-wasp Martha's Vineyard–chose her successful real estate agent sister to list and market the property. Your Mama wonders if Sister Simon is giving a Miz Carly a break on the commish.

Gorgeous George

George Burns used to end his shows by saying to his wonderful, funny, funny wife, "Say goodnight, Gracie." But comic genius Gracie Allen never said "Say goodnight George." However, sadly tonight we must "Say goodnight George." for George Carlin, arguably the greatest stand-up comic of the second half of the 20th Century, after his friend, mentor, and fellow arrestee Lenny Bruce (They were arrested together. Isn't that touching?), has left the planet permanently.


George was it! An original. A brilliant wordsmith. An iconoclastic thinker. And just damn funny. I know a hell of a lot of comedians. I don't know one who doesn't revere George.


No point in holding religious services. George was a famous and loud atheist. He was just too smart to fall for The God Lie. In fact, he was just too damn smart, period. Although best known for hard-hitting satirical jibes that skewered mankind's illogic, he could be just plain silly, as in his famous Hippy-Dippy Weatherman character, which carried the unmistakable traces of his days as a disc jockey. Here's one of my favorite silly jokes of his, which he told on The Ed Sullivan Show: "The Beatles' latest record, when played backwards at slow speed, says 'Dummy! You're playing it backwards at slow speed!"


His most famous routine was The Seven Dirty Words You Can Never Say on Television. The words were: Shit, Piss, Fuck, Cunt, Cocksucker, Motherfucker, and Tits. Later he added: Fart, Turd, and Twat. I guess Asshole just wasn't filthy enough.


Of course, Motherfucker is just a long version of Fuck, but George said he needed it for the rhythm. Besides, if he'd cut it (For, say, Jism.), his mother would have felt left-out.


These days, you can say Tits, Piss, Fart and Turd on TV if they are essential to the plot. And Balls, in it's anatomical meaning, is said on TV roughly a hundred times a day. Progress is our most-important product. We're catching up with you, George. If you'd lived, you'd need to revise the piece.


George was a World-Class Bullshit detector. He spotted it, identified it, and made you laugh about it.


Goodbye George. Thanks for all the laughs. This cocksucking old cunt, with her low-swinging tits, will miss the fuck out of you. You were one funny motherfucker. I'm getting shit-faced in your honor. T'wat's that all about, anyway?


Since you knew no God created you, may I just say, you were one hell of an accidental confluence of chemicals. You were one of Randomness's best works.


Cheers darlings.

Is Oprah Fleeing Fisher Island?

SELLER: Oprah Winfrey
LOCATION: Fisher Island Drive, Miami, FL
PRICE: $2,090,000
SIZE: 1,838 square feet, 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms
DESCRIPTION: Spectacular direct ocean views through walls of sliding glass and from covered privacy on a gracious seaside terrace create an unmistakable Florida aura around this two bedroom, two bathroom luxury Fisher Island condominium. Gorgeous design, inviting layout and fantastic features combine to achieve a supreme level of plush waterfront, tropical living. Beautiful upgrades and details within this bright and airy Seaside Village home include wonderful water views from every room, custom wood built-ins & more!

YOUR MAMAS NOTES: Yesterday Your Mama discussed the Greenwich, CT crib of talk show titan Oprah Winfrey's gal pal Gayle King which has been listed at $7,450,000. It appears that Miz King–an XM Satellite Radio ho-stess and editor-at large for Oprah's O Magazine–will be moving to Midtown Manhattan and into the 57th Street penthouse she recently and reportedly purchased for $7,100,000. The snarky real estate scuttlebutt is that the glassy aerie was purchased with the boob toob billionaire's money, but children, Your Mama don't know a thing concrete about that other than it was bought through a trust named after The Big O's beloved (and recently deceased) dog Sophie. Make of that what you will.

Well anyhoo, it appears that Miz King isn't that only one of these two luvlee ladies unloading prime real estate. Turns out The Big O herself has listed her Fisher Island, FL condo for sale with a current asking price of $2,090,000. The modestly sized two bedroom and 2 bathroom unit offers a typically tropical rich person's view of palm trees and meticulously maintained green grass that stretches gracefully down to the sugar sand beach and ter-kwahze waters of the Atlantic Ocean.

Located off the southern tip of South Beach and accessed only by ferry, seaplane, helicopter or yacht, fancy Fisher Island was once the private winter retreat of William and Rosamund Vanderbilt, great grandson of the legendary Commodore. Although the Vanderbilt's massive mansion and several of the 1920 era cottages remain, the island is now a private residential enclave of costly condominiums and pricey private villas. The 216 acre island includes a spa, golf course (dubbed The Links), a grand slam tennis center, polo field, deep water docking, 8 restaurants and swank shops all for the filthy rich residents and anyone interested in coughing up the big bucks to vacay at the Fisher Island Hotel and Resort and hoping to catch Miz King and The Big O oil each other up with tanning lotion and sunbathe in their itty bitty bikinis.

Property records show The Big O bought her 1,838 square foot hideaway back in 1996 for $660,000. All cash, natch. Listing information reveals that the unit is located in the Seaside Village section of Fisher Island and includes hardwood and marble floors, high ceilings, walls of sliding glass that open to a large seaside terrace, ceiling fans and custom wood built-ins with flat screen televisions so that even while on vacation The Big O can keep a watchful and suspicious eye on Ellen and Rachel Ray nipping at her talk show heels.

The Big O has clearly cleared the custom book shelves and removed her most personal items from the unit and from what remains it appears to Your Mama that the media maven did up the day-core in a slightly masculine Tommy Bahama style with custom sized sisal rugs, tufted ottomans in neutral colors, distressed leather armchairs, and those palm frond ceiling fans that have become so ridiculously and painfully obvious in tropical day-core.

At first glance the kitchen looks functional and fine. Nothing great, but not bad. Then Your Mama realized that one entire wall is mirrored. From floor to ceiling. An inexplicable decorating travesty if we ever saw one. It's not a damn dressing room, it's a kitchen. Who needs to see themselves looking all blotchy and bleary eyed in the morning while chopping up celery for a Bloody Mary? Not Your Mama, that's who.

We also note with some dismay that despite her vast wealth–beehawtcha earned a mind numbing $275,000,000 last year alone–The Big O cheaped out on her counter top appliances. That's right puppies, she flies around in a private jet but gurl penny pinched it on the appliances. Your Mama expected a Dualit Combi toaster and a De'Longhi PrimaDonna ESAM 6600 cappuccino machine at the least, but instead we get the sort of plastic contraptions that poor people can snatch up cheap at Target. Nothing wrong with Target puppies, Your Mama and the Dr. Cooter buy our terlit paper there too, but we ain't billionaires making money faster than we an spend it.

Although Your Mama is a fan of south Florida (in the winter time, of course) and we are regular guests at a hoity toity hotel in South Beach, Fisher Island and all its generic exclusivity and run of the mill luxury doesn't do much for us. However, we will allow that The Big O's large covered terrace looks like an enviable and serene spot. Your Mama can imagine The Big O and Miz King slipping on colorful caftans and whittling away the late afternoon listening to the surf, pouring over bank statements and slowly rubbing cooling aloe vera on their pleasingly prickly and slightly sun burned skin.

Obviously Your Mama does not know The Big O so we can't say why she would chose to sell this condo. But given that she's got about a thousand other homes and condos all around the U-nited States, including that $40,000,000 manse in Montecito, perhaps this one is just dead real estate weight sucking up a few grand a month in maintenance fees and taxes. Even billionaires sometimes look at the bottom line. Don't they? Or maybe she's upgrading to something larger? Who knows? We don't, but if you do, be sure to give Your Mama a ringy-dingy.

Honestly children, Your Mama don't know if any of these people still hole up in Fisher Island condos, but other famous Fisher Island property owners (or former owners) are said to include daddylicious pop star Ricky Martin, Oscar winning actress Julia Roberts and her big and beautiful teeth, Mel Brooks and tennis titans Andre Agassi and Boris Becker.

UPDATE (later same day): Your Mama's research diva B.S. Beaverman located a 1998 article in New York Magazine which plainly stated that (at the time of the article) The Big O owned three units on Fisher Island including a 6,000 square foot place for Herself and two smaller units...one for her trainer and another for her entourage. We don't dispute that. However at this point and time Your Mama is only able to confirm The Big O's ownership of this one unit. We're certain Mister Big Time can work the details out while we put our feet up and watch reality television with the Dr. Cooter.

Gayle King Selling the Big House

SELLER: Gayle King
LOCATION: Richmond Hill Road, Greenwich, CT
PRICE: $7,450,000
SIZE: 10,433 square feet, 6 bedrooms, 7 full and 3 half bathrooms
DESCRIPTION: Elegant and luxurious, the magnificent colonial presides over four private back country acres. The graceful floor plan commences with a dramatic 18' reception hall and flows to the step-down living room with fireplace, a solarium, and library with fireplace...Upstairs, the second floor features four spacious en suite bedrooms with walk-in closets. The remarkable master suite offers a large bedroom with fireplace, generous bath, enormous dressing room, and 22x14 sitting room...Separate au-pair/staff accommodations and a 3-car garage.

YOUR MAMAS NOTES: Back in mid-January all the real estate gossips went plum berserk over the rumors and reports that television titan Oprah Winfrey forked over nearly $7,500,000 for a glassy penthouse in Midtown Manhattan for her bestie ladee friend Gayle King. Since it appeared that Miz King was moving to Manhattan, all the real estate freaks like Your Mama wondered if she would soon be selling her gigantic Greenwich, CT manse. Well guess what children? Thanks to a tipster we'll call The Pied Piper, Your Mama has learned that Miz King's back country behemoth is indeed listed for sale with an asking price of $7,450,000.

Property records show the Richmond Hill Road residence was purchased in August of 2000 for $3,600,000. The owner of record is a trust which happens to be the very same trust in which property records show several of Miz Winfrey's many properties are held. Hmm. Make of that what you will children, but it looks to Your Mama's untrained and gin soaked eye that Miz Winfrey may in fact be the real owner of this house. What kind of rent do we think Miz King is asked to pay?

Listing information shows that the stone fronted colonial style house measures in at an expensive to heat and cool 10,433 square feet and includes 6 bedrooms, 7 full and 3 half bathrooms. Your Mama hopes that Miss Oprah also springs for a full time gurl to keep all ten of them terlits sparkling clean at all times because you know there's hell to pay if Oprah shows up to find pubic hair on the powder room terlit.

Anyhoo, listing information also tells us that the four floor crib sits on four acres and includes such dee-luxe amenities as four fireplaces, a 3-car garage, staff accommodations, a media room/home thee-ay-ter, and a third floor family room with window alcoves, bar and bathroom. In addition to the four en-suite bedrooms, the master suite includes a commodious sitting room, big bathroom and a dressing room fitted and kitted for a billionaire's bestie.

Out back is a free form swimming pool with an attached spa where we imagine Miz King and Miz Winfrey enjoy relaxing in the evenings with an expensive bottle of Chardonnay when the talk show queen blows into town on her private plane. We don't know why, but we picture Miz Winfrey wearing a shower cap so that she doesn't get her do wet while settin' in the spa.

As for the day-core, well, it's clearly not the handiwork of Oprah's favorite nice gay decorator Nate Berkus and it should be no surprise to the children that it's far to fussy and formal for our personal taste. Undoubtedly the carpets cost more than Your Mama's big BMW but to our untrained eye they still look like remnants from the recent redo at The Plaza. And the drapery! Pleeze. Let's not even talk about all that crazy swagged fabric adorning the windows. Your Mama knows deep in our snarky soul that a mountain of money was spent on all that Scalamandré and Brunschwig & Fils fabric, but dear Jeezis in heaven why do rich people have to swag their curtains like that?

As far as Your Mama knows gurl friend Gayle only occupies the place in Greenwich and now the 57th Street penthouse, but mega money Oprah has properties all over the damn country including (but not limited to) a fancy Fisher Island condo in Miami, a 39th floor condo in Atlanta (in the same building as Miss Elton John), a farm in Merrillville, Indiana, another condo in Nashville (and it appears a small house in Franklin, TN too). Then there's another damn condo in unlikely Milwaukee and who could forget the $40,000,000 manse in Montecito, CA (plus another one nearby), her Hawaiian outpost in Hana or cushy condo she is rumored to have purchased in Chicago in late 2006.

Although Your Mama would feel like we were living up in rich grandma's house, we imagine Miz King's krib will appeal to some newbie hedge hog or some other banker type with a pretty wife and a couple of young kiddies who is looking to move up in the real estate game.

The Russians Are Coming!

Rumors and reports have been rampant that it was a ridiculously rich Russian who coughed up the big Rubles for Donald Trump's Palm Beach flip property Maison La Amitié. Turns out all the scuttlebutt was true because according to the always reliable Christina S.N. Lewis at the Wall Street Journal, the previously un-named $100,000,000 buyer is Russian fertilizer titan Dmitry Ryblovlev, a man Forbes estimates is worth $12,800,000,000.

The 33,000 square foot ocean front behemoth that includes a garage for 48 damn cars was actually purchased by an investment company linked to the Mister Ryblovlev and he is quoted as saying that the purchase is not an indication that he will be moving to the United States. In fact, there is much discussion among the Palm Beach real estates and other sundry wasps all up and down the posh drives in the area that the Russian may tear down the existing residence and subdivide the property.

A bold real estate maneuver to be sure, but if Your Mama is being honest, and we always are, we say good riddance to this sprawling architectural vulgarity.

Mena Suvari Sells Her Rebound House

SELLER: Mena Suvari
LOCATION: Glyndon Avenue, Venice, CA
PRICE: $1,795,000
SIZE: 2,442 square feet, 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms
DESCRIPTION: Beautiful craftsman designed by Richard Olander with meticulous attention to detail. Spacious separate master suite on top floor with huge walk in closet. Elegant gourmet cook's kitchen with black granite center island & breakfast bar leading to a stylish formal dining room. French doors open to a landscaped large back yard–Great for entertaining, to a studio, guest house, surround sound through out, security system, and more.

YOUR MAMAS NOTES: All you Chicken Littles take note. Thanks to a friendly tipster we'll call Venetia Vixon, Your Mama has learned that unusually named actress Mena Suvari (American Pie, American Beauty, American Virgin, American Pie II) has not only listed her Venice residence for sale at $1,795,000, the property has gone to contract less than 45 days after being put on the market. Did you see that? Less than 45 days.

Property records show that Miz Suvari purchased the Glyndon Avenue house in June of 2005 for $1,665,000, which was shortly after the "news" broke about her marriage with much older cinematographer huzband Robert Brinkmann going splitsville, which kinda makes this her rebound house...a place to go to get away from the huzband, but not necessarily a long term solution. Tucked into a quiet and leafy pocket bordered by Marina del Rey and Culver City, the Miz Suvari's vaguely East Coast style cottage measures 2,442 square feet. There are 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms and a detached (and permitted) studio/guest house that does not appear to Your Mama to have a bathroom...a situation some small bladdered guests might not be too happy about.

The main house and the detached garage/studio/guest house are divided by a courtyard like back yard with an attractive ameoba shaped gravel patio and little patches of well maintained lawn. It's an area far too small for big dogs, or perhaps even our long bodied bitches Linda and Beverly, but from the looks of things, Miz Suvari's pussies seem to like it just fine.

It would appear to Your Mama that Miz Suvari did the day-core herself because we don't think any self respecting nice gay decorator–at least none that we know–would dream of putting those cockamamie wicker seating contraptions in the living room. On a covered patio, perhaps. But please, not the living room. And what is that leopard printed tower thing hanging out in the corner? Is that a disguised speaker? Some sort of "art?" Whatever it maybe be has us reaching for the nerve pills because we can't seem to take our eyes off it long enough to even notice that there's a nice fireplace in the room to take the chill off those foggy Venice mornings.

We do think the dining room works. Basically. The windows are too small but what we're most concerned about is the obvious difficulty of getting food out of the seriously shag rug. One chicken nugget with mustard sauce dropped on that thing and our house gurl Sventlana would be ranting, raving and pulling her hair extensions out like it was a Greek tragedy.

Although the kitchen is upscale ordinary with generic (but blessedly simple) white cabinets and black granite counters, it is decently sized and we enjoy pulling up a stool pulled to a work island so we can sip gin and tonics while the Dr. Cooter prepares pork dumplings and a box cake (yellow with chocolate frosting, natch). We're thrilled that Miz Suvari (or whomever is responsible for this kitchen design) was wise enough to have the microwave oven fitted into the cabinetry sparing us having to look at it loitering on the counter top. However, all the good comes to nothing with that menacing pot rack looking like a lobster trap dying to swoop down and knock the noggin off the chef. We hate those things.

Although the windows are tiney, the bedroom looks like a nice and airy space but the day-core is beyond words. Almost. Teddy bears on the bed? Egads! Mena, hunny, you are a grown gurl with a career and money of your own. They may be "cute" but those silly stuffed things belong in a child's room or big box in the attic. No exceptions. Ever. No man is going to take a woman seriously who has stuffed animals on her bed. Don't believe Your Mama? Ask a man. Just don't ask the ones who like their ladee friends to be gurls, if you know what Your Mama is sayin'.

Anyhoo, the new buyers are not buying the day-core so it's all irrelevant and clearly this is a good house priced right because it's done been sold lickety split. Your Mama hasn't a clue whey Miss Mena would want to leave this near the Pacific Ocean charmer, but she does. Maybe she's ready for something with a little more celebrity style? Whatever the case, we hope she'll give us a shout so we can recommend a couple of nice gay decorators to help her out with her next crib.

Judge Judy Shows No Real Estate Modesty

She may look and act like a grumpy grandma from Grand Rapids, but according to the always entertaining doyenne of celebrity gossip Cindy Adams, judgmental judge Judy Sheindlin lives like a damn queen.

And we don't mean the sort of queen who sews plastic beads on a thrift store gown for the big gay pride parade, we mean the sort of queen whose brand spanking new 24,000 square foot mega manse in ritzy Greenwich, CT includes 8 bedrooms, 13 bathrooms with gold plated fixtures, 10 hand carved fireplaces, 26 foot ceilings, a guard house, gate house, guest house and a pool house. There is also a home thee-ay-ter for 50, a wine cellar, a conservatory, a massage room, play room, game room, a state of the art home gym and an obscenely large 3,150 square foot master bedroom that features an adjacent "snoring room," an unusual feature Your Mama feels certain the Dr. Cooter wishes he had too.

All of that is impressive and jaw dropping to be sure, but somebody bring Your Mama the smelling salts because according to the decorator, the main house uses 500 light bulbs. No puppies, Your Mama did not mistakenly add a zero. It's five hundred. Your Mama hasn't used 500 damn light bulbs in our lifetime and this ladee put 500 in a single house? Well, at least we know she won't have any trouble paying for all that wattage because according to Forbes, the heavily syndicated judge rakes in more than $30,000,000 per year. (Miz Adams says it's an even more impressive $42,000,000, "give or take a few bucks.")

The new Sheindlin feifdom in the Greenwich back country is hardly the only piece of luxury real estate Judge Judy and her huzband Judge Jerry own. Prop records show the bench warmers purchased a Naples, FL condo in July of 2005 for $6,900,000 and they reportedly own a pied a terre in New York City as well as a good sized yacht dubbed Her Honor, natch. The granny gazillionaire, who films her tawdry television show in Los Angeles, reportedly commutes to work by private jet.