If you’ve ever looked at a picture of Kim Kardashian and found yourself feeling the same way you did that time you ate a rotten Filet-O-Fish sandwich, take comfort in knowing that you’re not alone. According to The Daily Mail, an Exeter man named Mike Amess (oh, he’s a mess, alright) is claiming that he’s developed a phobia of the Kardashians, wherein he breaks out in a cold sweat if he hears their voices, and that the sight of a semi-nude Kim will make him vomit. Someone needs to tell Mike Amess that that’s not a phobia, that’s just called being human.
The 24-year-old said it all began back in high school, when he watched Kim’s sex tape in an attempt to try to repress his sexuality (oh, big mistake, Mike Amess; that’s like trying to get over your fear of the ocean by watching JAWS):
“I downloaded the video and watched it secretly in my bedroom. But the sight of Kim writhing around with her huge bum and the sound of her horrible high-pitched wailing repulsed me. By the end of the tape, I had burst into tears. The experience left me terrified and I never wanted to see Kim’s face again. I have come to terms with my homosexuality now but my dread towards her has never left.”
Mike Amess claims that his phobia has only gotten more traumatic over the years, due to the fact that Satan’s shameless hookers are everywhere, and while he tries his best to avoid triggers like television, magazines, and Craigslist postings for dumpy-looking slug prostitutes (hey, even snails need to get laid), sometimes he’s unsuccessful, like when Kanye West released Bound 2:
“One day, I was lazing about on the sofa in front of the TV. I was skipping through music channels and that video came on. Seeing Kim naked, with her boobs bouncing about like that brought back memories of that horrendous sex tape. Before I knew it, I was sweating like a pig and throwing up.”
“We can totally relate” – the crew from the Bound 2 shoot.
A doctor, who does not treat Mike Amess, claims that while his phobia is super-rare and proooooobablyyyyy made up, there is a chance he is actually terrified of the Kardashians and Mike Amess should get some therapy so he can eventually change his name to Mike LessOfAmess.
And regardless of whether or not Mike is telling the truth (he’s probably not, but I love him anyways) he should get help, and if there’s one person who can cure you of your phobia fears, it’s Maury Povich and a dude dressed up as whatever you’re afraid of. Quickly Maury! Dress a staffer up as a nasal-voiced, fake-assed porn star and help Mike Amess!
Regardless of whether or not you’re a religious person, you should probably slap your hands together and bust out a prayer for the freon-huffing grill-wearing Florida bedbug, Riff Raff, because he is going to be absolutely devastated when he hears that the love of his life has moved on to douchier pastures. If anyone needs your thoughts and prayers today, it’s him. I mean, he needs them anyways, because his life is a fucking mess, but today he’s really going to need them.
According to Page Six, Katy Perry has given us yet another square to block off on our Oh, Here We Go bingo cards by hooking up with DJ/producer Diplo. The two were seen (don’t do it, Allison) CANOODLING backstage at Coachella, with a source saying:
“It was very obvious that Katy and Diplo were together. They seemed inseparable and at one point they were seen getting onto her bus together.”
Getting on a bus together? Slow down, sluts!
I’m sure Diplo is a very nice person, and I’m not making fun of him per-se, but I think we can all agree that DJs are pretty high on the douche spectrum. With that being said, I shouldn’t be surprised that Katy is currently rubbing her dark horse parts on Diplo; ever since she split with The Douchebag King, she’s been trying to fill the douche-scented hole he left in her heart, and there’s no more concentrated form of douche than a guy who gets paid millions of dollars to press buttons on an iPod.
Rapper Christ Bearer, Who’s Affiliated With Wu-Tang Clan, Cut Off His Peen Before Jumping Off Of A Balcony
And now here’s a giant side of WTF and a giant side of SAD to go with your lunch, which I’m hoping isn’t a kielbasa sandwich….
TMZ says that Wu-Tang affiliated rapper Christ Bearer (government name: Andre Johnson) was taken to Cedars-Sinai in L.A. early this morning after he Lorena Bobbitt’d himself and jumped off of a second story balcony in North Hollywood. The cops are treating it as a suicide attempt. A police source told TMZ that after someone called 911, they showed up to the apartment building and found Andre lying on the sidewalk in a bad way. Andre is currently laid up in the hospital in critical condition. TMZ also let it be know that the status of his peen is not known at this time.
Christ Bearer is in the rap duo Northstar, which was discovered by RZA in 1998, and is also in other Wu Tang-affiliated groups. Members of one of the groups tell TMZ that they live in the same building as Christ Bearer. They say that out of nowhere, Christ Bearer cut off his dick and then jumped off of the balcony without warning. They say that he wasn’t on any kind of drugs that would cause him to do that and by the time they got downstairs he was running around screaming incoherently.
Yes, my brain is still shivering with the WHATTHEFUCKS and I do not appreciate your Johnson jokes at this time. I hardly leave my house, but when I do I always wish that a dick will fall on my head. I’m not going to make that wish anymore.
Every dude in Hollywood who likes to get their prostates poked by a strap-on operated by a skinny ass model just crossed Heidi Klum’s name off of their list of potential pieces, because her strap-on game is whack. Not bending her piece over: – 100 points! Not pulling her piece’s hair: – 200 points! Yes, tapping his nip with her nail gets her 20 points, but it’s still not enough. Bitch needs strap-on training from Bland Eggs.
27-year-old art dealer and cougar magnet Vito Schnabel was getting on Demi Moore’s cougar cooch a little over a year ago and now he’s jumping on Heidi Klum’s 40-year-old titty sacks. Before Vito was boning Demi, he was doing Elle McPherson. Vito is certified cougar meat. So either the famous cougars just love a 20-something piece who knows his art and kind of looks like the human version of Spuds MacKenzie or Vito’s got a strong dick that can fuck the pre-menopause out of anyone.
Here’s a few more NSFW pictures of Heidi bringing some Vitamin D to her nips while hanging around with her new piece in Tulum, Mexico.
Pics: Pacific Coast News
HAHAHAHA! Good one, Tori Spelling. I almost believed you, until I heard the familiar sound of the CelebraTori Money Counting Machine in the background.
Immediately after the release of the trailer for True Tori, Tori and Dean “The Deaner” McDermott’s reality shit-show about their crumbling marriage, anyone with at least half a working brain cell (that rules out The Deaner) knew that it was nothing more than a flimsy excuse to #getmoneybitch. Except that according to People, that’s just not true! Tori isn’t doing it for the cash (are you sure you spoke to the right Tori?) but as a way to punish the Deaner for being a useless skank-humping shitbag:
“The decision to do this show is not coming from someone who is in a solid, good place. Tori is very, very upset and angry,” a longtime friend of Spelling’s says. “It’s just too raw and personal. There’s too much pain and it’s too private.”
Adds the source: “A part of her wants to completely humiliate him and make him suffer in front of millions of people. She wants to have some sort of justice. She wants him to truly feel the pain of what he did to her.”
And because the only thing the Deaner loves more than that sweet, sweet out-of-state pussy is money, he’s taking all the shit Tori is piling on him with a half-smile and a squinty-eyed single tear trickling down his face, even going so far as to tell Tori: “My life means nothing if you’re not in it.” Really? The Deaner said that? I don’t believe it. I think what the Deaner meant to say was this:
“Tori, I need to know…what’s crappenin’ with us? What’s crappenin’ with our marriage? I went to rehab like you asked me to, and I barely fucked any strange while I was there (and I almost always pulled out!). I swear on Candi Spelling’s bank account that I’m committed to our marriage. What do you say, Tori…will you keep it sleazy with me? ” …at which point I start pretending to cry. What do you think, Hooters girls? Sounds good, right? Awesome! The Deaner is back in business! Now who’s ready to let me eat chicken wings off their tits?? Shasta, I’m looking in your direction!”
Pic: Flame Flynet
After Paul Walker died, the producers of the Fast & Furious movies said that the 7th movie will go on, because it’s what he would’ve wanted and they want to pay tribute to him. Yes, because Hollywood movie producers definitely think of other humans before they think of the faucet that dribbles out money into their savings accounts getting turned off.
Paul Walker was in the middle of shooting scenes for Fast & Furious 7 (alternate title: THEY’RE MAKING ANOTHER ONE OF THOSE CAR MOVIES?!) when he died and he still had a few more scenes to shoot. The producers pressed pause on shooting and used the time to figure out what they were going to do. There were rumors that they were going to either write Paul’s character out or use a creepy CGI Paul Walker to complete the movie. They are going to use CGI, but they’re going to pair it with doubles played by Paul Walker’s brothers. The producers said on Facebook (via Vulture) yesterday that Caleb and Cody Walker (which sounds like the title of a hit Nickelodeon show about two twin country stars who take over their family’s cow milking business) have stepped in to finish their brother’s scenes.
The FAST & FURIOUS saga is about family. The characters are connected by the bond of family, and it is how all of us who have worked together for more than thirteen years feel about each other. It certainly defines how we feel about our fans.
Our family experienced an unthinkable shock in November. We had to take time to grieve Paul, the brother we love and lost, and to figure out if we should move on with our film.
We came together and all felt the only choice was to continue. We believe our fans want that, and we believe Paul would want that too. Paul had already shot his dramatic scenes and most of his action for FAST & FURIOUS 7, and it’s among the strongest work of his career.
We have resumed shooting and now welcome Paul’s brothers, Caleb and Cody, into our FAST family. Caleb and Cody are helping us complete some remaining action for their brother and fill in small gaps left in production. Having them on set has made us all feel that Paul is with us too.
Let’s hope that next year, Caleb and Cody are nominated for a highly-esteemed MTV Movie Award against Ice Cube and Kevin Hart for Ride Along 2: We’re Still Riding Along and WIN. The world needs another Ice Cube meltdown.
And just like that, thousands of psychiatrists who have never treated Donnie Wahlberg just diagnosed him with psychotic depression and severe masochism. Their evidence? He asked the silicone-brained stick of dull wax that is Jenny McCarthy to marry him.
Today on The View, a relic from the 90s that won’t go away announced to the cackling hyenas around her that she’s getting married to a relic from the 90s who can still fill the panties of 30-somethings with crotch pudding. Back peddaler Jenny McCarthy showed off the yellow sapphire and diamond ring that I hope Donnie Wahlberg bought at Claire’s, because New Kids on the Block’s only got so many reunions tours in them and he shouldn’t waste his cash on some shit that’ll be pawned off in a couple of years (I’m being generous) after the divorce. Jenny told the hysterical hens that after dating for about a year, Donnie proposed last weekend with help from her son Evan. Here’s the clip of Jenny announcing she’s getting pre-divorced and as that blonde enema full of crazy did an obnoxious “YAY” dance, the Wahlbergs all cried themselves into a giant puddle of woe. They already have one crazy in their family (see: Marky Mark) and now they’ve got two.
Somewhere, Donnie is having ear plugs surgically installed in his ear holes, because he knows that it’s the only way he’ll be able to fully deal with a crazy bitch who thought he liked dick, because he didn’t try to wet hump her two seconds after meeting her.
And Donnie has hung out with Jenny and her fellow anti-vaxxers for a year and hasn’t caught the measles yet, which tells me he’s been vaccinated, which brings a smile out of my face, because Jenny has obviously swallowed some vaccine-infused jizz.
Despite the fact that Beyoncé just finished performing the last of her 6 billion shows of the Mrs. Carter tour (she believes it was live streamed directly into the hearts and minds of everyone on earth, do not correct her) and Jay Z recently wrapped up his Smooth Character tour, and the fact that they have so much money they could buy Jesus Christ himself and let Blue Ivy hunt him for sport, Page Six says that Her Majesty Bey and her husband who’s name is not as important have decided to launch a 20-date stadium tour starting late-June.
Damn bitch, everyone has heard you sing about surfboards, we don’t need another tour for the surfbort song. Take a break, put your fucking feet up, take up knitting or some shit, do whatever you gotta do to decompress, but don’t do another tour. We’re all tired. I don’t have enough fight left in me to compete with the Bumble Beys for concert tickets. They’re monsters; they’ll jump through your ethernet cable and cut your fucking ear off. Take a break, please.
And I see you, Blue Ivy. I know that this is all your doing. That sneaky toddler probably has her eye on a new nap-time yacht or a solid-gold baby wipes dispenser, so she snuck into Beyoncé dressing room and left a hand-written note under Bey’s best wig that said: “I can’t help notice that your bank balance has dipped below a billion dollars. Is money tight right now? Should I help ease the burden by moving in with Unky Kanye and Auntie Plasticface? If only there were a way to make more money, but I have no idea, because I’m just a baby. Oh well. Maybe you and Daddy will figure something out.”
After ruling over the peasant babies of New Zealand and letting them know that yes, he’ll take their toys, and no, they won’t say shit about it, the most powerful baby in Britain, whose shits have more say than the Prime Minister, landed in Sydney today. Peasant babies of Australia, hide yo toys!
Baby Prince George and his two mere escorts, Duchess Kate and Prince William, are into week two of their all-expenses government-paid vacation masquerading as work and today they started the Australian leg of their tour. (You’re not alone if your brain immediately ejaculates up the image of Chris Hemsworth’s thighs when you read the words “Australian leg.”) Royal clothes hanger Duchess Kate wore a yellow dress that your mother will wear to Easter mass this Sunday if your mother is a WASPY, Buick Regal-driving type who gets “Allison Sugarbaker” when she takes Buzzfeed’s “Which Designing Woman Are You?” quiz. I’m joking about your mom wearing that dress since it sold out before Duchess Kate’s traveling lady-in-waiting zipped it up. Prince William wore who cares and Baby Prince George wore an elegant ass onesie with puffed sleeves that if my baby self wore to a playdate, I’d get the shit kicked out of me. But Baby Prince George proves that only a truly powerful man can pull off puffed sleeves (see: King Henry VIII, Prince and Seinfeld). The huffs from his haters will make Baby Prince George’s puffed sleeves puffier.
Here’s more of the royals in Sydney today and I can’t wait to see their photo-op with Australia’s ambassadors to the world Kath & Kim.