Bret Michaels has announced to Gossip Cop today that after almost 16 years (on and off), the mother of his two kids, Kristi Gibson, is no longer running her fingers through his luscious European weave tracks as he motoboats her extra large Tupperware titty domes. They have ceased humping. Here’s the statement Bret’s spokesbitch released and I am one hundred percent disappointed that he didn’t start this shit with “every rose has its thorn….“
“Bret Michaels and longtime girlfriend Kristi Gibson have called off their engagement at this time. Although the couple have separated, they remain great friends and are committed to jointly raising their two daughters, Raine and Jorja.”
Now Bret can fill the cracks in his broken heart with whiskey-infused drool and genital wart pus from a new harem of graceful skanks on a new season of Rock of Love Bus. Or Bret can just stop fighting destiny and finally realize that he truly belongs with my favorite demure flower: DJ LADY TRIBE!
If you got an eh-legal drug for every time I used the phrase “eh-legal drugs” in casual conversation, you’d have enough eh-legal drugs to be the Lohan family’s personal eh-legal drug dealer.