At last night’s Ripple of Hope (which is also the pet name George Clooney has given to his anus) Awards in NYC, Roseanne’s old boss Booker Brooks glided along the press line with the one and only Elisabetta Canalis at his side beaming like her benefactor’s favorite glow-in-the-dark butt beads. Elisabetta is becoming an expert at throwing up her coke canals at the cocktail waitresses biting at her ankles to take her place. Look at her perfectly painted “Nobody can work a strap-on like me so I’m not going anywhere, you simple whores” face.
Elisabetta has been so quiet lately, so it’s nice to see her back where she belongs: throwing smugcuntfaces while holding George Clooney’s hand. I do miss her yammering on about how she’s the greatest thing to happen to George since electrified nipple clamps were invented, but she probably smeared an imaginary layer of Super Glue over her lips when Sarah Larson texted her from a hostess club in Downtown L.A. with the message: “See you soon!”