Blue crush crash.

GASP, Kate Bosworth and Thandie Newton wore the same (Preen) dress one day apart at the Toronto Film Festival! Quelle horreur. Now the entire Internet is gossiping over who looked better in it.

I'm voting for Thandie, which is nothing against Kate--well, actually, it is. I like Kate Bosworth, and I'm vastly relieved that she doesn't look like she's about to die of malnutrition anymore, although she's still EXTREMELY, EXTREMELY THIN, and on a side note can everyone lay off Britney for being "a beached whale" at the VMAs? I'm sure she was awful since everyone says so, and she definitely shouldn't have been wearing underwear on television, but for a mother of two kids under three she is Not Fat.

Anyway, the reason I'm voting for Thandie is because Kate looks just like this one girl who, get this. She emails her friends saying she's moving out of her apartment and her landlords are just sooo wonderful that she wants to find nice replacement tenants for them. The email is forwarded via work colleagues to my friend Lindsay, who forwards it to me. I write to the girl; she's perfectly friendly, if not precisely gregarious. I set up a time to go see the appointment; she cancels at the last minute; I set up another time; we show up at the allotted time; she and her boyfriend are just starting to cook dinner (turkey burgers, in case you were wondering) because she forgot we were coming. After SHE rescheduled!

I bend over backwards offering to come back at another time but she says, no, no, come on in. So we go into the apartment and she's totally uptight in that one way that certain publishing girls are--very smart and fairly pretty but just unpretty enough to be secretly insecure and that insecurity in combination with her intelligence and extremely expensive education means that she has a massive, massive stick up her ass whereby she can't decide if she wants to be friendly to another publishing girl or if she wants to be an ice queen because she's got something to prove.

So we look at the apartment and we LOVE it and we tell her please, please, can we meet the landlords, can we call the landlords, will you let us know because we're not going to take another apartment until we hear about this one, and she says, well, the landlords are in northern Maine for the next ten days but I'll be in touch when they come back.

So we cut down on the search--we go to see places, but we discard a few we might otherwise have been more enthusiastic over because we liked this girl's apartment so much and we know that if we can JUST MEET the landlords that they will love us because Chris's whole family is from northern Maine and if they are too then he's probably RELATED to them.

And I email this girl maybe two more times, tentatively (because I don't want to nag) asking if she could fill us in on the status because "like I said, we're holding out for your apartment," and she politely writes back that she has to talk to the landlords and

THAT'S THE LAST WE EVER HEAR FROM HER.

Until one day the other week Chris is walking down the street and he sees her and she sees him and she recognizes him and she LOOKS AWAY.

If I ever run into that bitch you will wish you had a front-row ticket. Because if you take on the responsibility of sending that email--of corresponding with people who are friends of friends; of letting them into your house and telling them you'll be in touch--to leave them hanging when they've flat-out said "Our housing decision rests upon you; please tell us if it shouldn't"--that is just RUDE. And I hope that karma comes to bite her and her turkey burger and her slouchy-shouldered almost-Kate Bosworth looks IN THE (FLAT) ASS.

So, who wore it better? Kate or Thandie?

(Photo via Fabsugar.)