In news that even Alison the Slycic could have predicted, Taylor Armstrong of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills and her skeezer slimehole of a husband Russell have quietly tiptoed away from their marriage. Taylor has said that her 7-year-old marriage to Russell has become nothing but a business arrangement and he always has a tortured look on his face like he’s a stupid argument away from giving up on life. (No, I don’t mean suicide, silly! I mean that he’ll only get around on a Hoveround, won’t ever change his underwear, will only survive on items found on a drive-thru menu and won’t bathe unless an order from the health department forces him to do so. Like half of America!)
Most of Taylor and Russell’s problems come from the fact they’ve got Aston Martin tastes on a Yugo GV budget. Their frivolous spending habits have left their finances as empty as a plastic surgeon’s entire supply of Juvederm when Taylor comes to visit. A source says that Taylor has moved out and is so upset that she’s lost 15 pounds.
How can Taylor lose 15 pounds when bitch doesn’t even weigh 15 pounds! Poor ho is probably nothing but yallaw weave, bones and lips now. Like the bottom of a box of KFC after Jessica Simpson ravages through it.
This is for the best, though. Taylor is a crazy gold digger who sucks at gold digging, but I still don’t know how she slept next to Russell’s creepy ass for that long. Russell probably sleeps with both eyes open and slurps on canned anchovies in the middle of the night as a snack. He’s always been like a skinny Penguin to me. I never blamed Taylor for plumping up her mouth to monkey anus proportions, because she was probably hoping if she keeps injecting, her top lip will block her view of Russell’s face one day.