Brad Pitt joined Angelina Jolie on the red carpet in Cannes for the premiere of Angie’s latest movie “Kung Fu Panda” yesterday. Brad couldn’t even muster a smile the entire time he was there, presumably suffering from Oh-My-God-What-The-Fuck-Have-I-Done syndrome associated with fathering six children. You remember the OMGWTFHID face. It’s the one your dad made when he found out you dropped out of law school to enroll in the interpretive dance academy and got knocked up by that “Nouveau Communist” cashier at the organic grocery store. It’s the same face you make when you catch an episode of “The Hills” or the person before you forgets to flush.

Thousands of women and gay men gathered outside Leicester Square for “Sex and the City’s” London premiere yesterday. The big buzz, of course, was Sarah Jessica Parker’s hideous hat, which served as a welcome distraction from decidedly mixed reviews of the film. The Times of London says

“There may be a problem with a film when a narrator constantly tells you the meaning of what you have just seen. There may be a problem with stretching Sex and the City into a two hour and twenty minute film - it can feel like a never ending dinner party: however pleasant the courses, after a while you can hardly eat another one.”

But of the hat:

Parker topped her custom “pistachio prom-style” Alexander McQueen dress with a made-for-her hat from legendary designer Philip Treacy. Parker’s piece included butterflies, a giant lime-hued rose, some greenery and an acorn top.

All the hat was missing was a mischievous squirrel who pops out at regulated intervals while Benny Hill zips around on a tiny bicycle to campy theme music. That’s probably all the movie was missing, too. You can never have too many impish rodents in a movie, I always say. I also say “God’s wounds!” and “Galatiriel’s beard!” from time to time, but they don’t really apply here. It’s best to save those kind of spirited exclamations for a round of mead at ye old tavern or an online chat with your coven. Frolicsome squirrels, on the other hand, are always comedy gold.¹ You can quote me on that one.

¹_{“Caddyshack,” anyone?}

Scarlett Johansson arrived at premiere of her new movie “The Other Boleyn Girl” in London yesterday with one of the gayest-looking tattoos I’ve ever seen. And right in the middle of her forearm, too, so there’s no hiding it unless she’s in long-sleeves or maybe a Technicolor Dreamcoat. I suppose it’s better than something trite like a Playboy bunny or a yin-yang, but it’s still pretty fucking lame. And then that got me to thinking — what are the lamest tattoos out there? The top ten lamest, to be exact?

10. Any Asian symbols or characters. You might think they stand for some profound Eastern philosophy when they really probably say “Kung Pao Chicken” or “I take it in the ass” in Korean.

9. Grateful Dead dancing bears. What a long, clichéd trip it’s been.

8. The Comedy/Tragedy Masks — comedy for us, tragedy for you

7. Anything with a wolf or predatory cat

6. Yosemite Sam “Back Off!”

5. Thug Life — unless you’re Tupac, you unoriginal bastard

4. Tribal arm bands. Sorry, you’ve now joined the ranks of Nick Lachey. Not cool.

3. Tribal arm band with dream catcher. Even gayer than the original.

2. Portraits of anyone. This goes double for portraits of Jesus with a crown of thorns.

1. Encrypted floor plans for a maximum security prison housing your wrongfully accused brother