First Julia Roberts couldn't get knocked up to save her life, now she gets a bun in the oven any time someone brushes lightly against her hip.
Yes, cinematic-sweetheart-turned-crazy-old-bag-lady Julia Roberts is preggers yet again, not with twins this time apparently, but a single little fetus that will some time in the near future come out into the world, all blue and icky and its little mouth gasping for air. Gosh, what a miracle (if by "miracle" you mean "revolting experience"). Of course, Julia will then have to name the baby, and given that her first two were hung with the handles Hazel and Finn, the poor little sucker will probably end up beind called something equally antiquated and vaguely literary, Mordecai perhaps or Aloisius, or if it's a girl maybe Hester or Eustacia.
Well, look on the bright-side little spawn of Julia - you could've been born to Michael Jackson and wound up being named after whatever household object happened to be at hand ("Blanket, meet your new brother Dehumidifier.").
