After terrorizing Times Square by ruining Cabaret for everyone and trying to snatch away a homeless guy’s hat, Shia LaBeouf decided that going the Amanda Bynes way wasn’t the way, so he stopped with all the fuckery and checked into an outpatient rehab facility in L.A. where apparently he cleansed his veins of the sweet nectar and the bad shit. Shia is sober now, and this time, he hopes to stay strapped into the wagon and isn’t even looking out the window. TMZ says that Shia is taking his sobriety seriously and one of the main reasons why he wants to keep his lips off of the bottle is because in a few months he’ll start a great, big promo tour for his movie Fury and he doesn’t want to embarrass his co-star Brad Pitt by acting like a drunken fool.
Some source tells TMZ (“Maddox, what did I tell you about feeding fake shit to TMZ?” – Maddox’s nanny) that the thought of shaming Brad Pitt during their promo tour is keeping Shia sober.
I’ve never had a problem with booze (‘Bitch, the first step is admitting you’re a drunk slut.” – you), but I’m sure that staying sober isn’t easy, so anything that helps a ho to stay booze-free is a good thing. With that being said, Shia should know that it’s impossible for him to embarrass Brad Pitt at a premiere. Brad Pitt is going to be so stoned that he’s not going to know what’s going on around him. Shia could drunkenly stumble onto the red carpet and spit at all of his co-stars and hump a reporter before losing a boxing match to a potted plant, and Brad Pitt wouldn’t notice any of it, because he’d be too busy having a deep, intellectual conversation about architecture with the wall.
But seriously, St. Angie Jolie just pulled off her halo and put it over Brad Pitt’s greasy, flea-ridden head. Today, Brad Pitt is the saint of the family. I mean, Brad Pitt helps drunks stay sober just by being Brad Pitt.
Here’s Shia working his signature “dirty, hitchhiking hipster” look while leaving a house in L.A. yesterday.
Normally Blue Ivy Carter wouldn’t degrade herself by participating in such an obvious stunt, but desperate times call for desperate measures. After seeing the pictures of Baby Prince George celebrating his 1st birthday by petting butterflies at the Natural History Museum, Blue Ivy swore there was no way she was going to let the second most famous rich baby in the world steal any attention away from her by releasing pictures of him staring vacantly at a bug. Today may be his birthday, but every day is Blue Ivy Day!
The only problem was thinking of something better to be photographed with than a butterfly, but the best her intern (North West) could come up with was gluing a pair of googly-eyes to one of Beyoncé’s old weaves and trying to pass it off as an exotic rodent. Eventually she decided that the only way she could snatch people’s eyes away from Baby Prince George and his butterfly was to pretend to be an actual butterfly (“You weren’t born with the ability to fly, Baby Prince George? Tsk-tsk, what a shame”), so she had her parents hoist her up and make it look like she was gracefully floating above the peasants. You know, more than she usually does.
Unfortunately, when North West posted the picture to Instagram, she forgot to Photoshop out Beyoncé and Jay-Z’s legs, and the whole thing was ruined. Cut to Baby Prince George and Lupo hunched over the royal iPad and cackling with sadistic glee.
Baby Prince George: 1, Blue Ivy: 0.
If it was up to Ben Stein, he’d be the host of Win Ben Stein’s Peeny, because he is a proud horny motherfucker who is like a teenager on Viagra and still gets “mad crushes” on beautiful ladies. In a rambling, weird column for The American Spectator, which came out last month, Ben Stein writes that his craving for beautiful ladies has led him to some gold digging situations. Shocking, I know. The 69-year-old married pepaw wrote about a woman he called “Lucia” who hit him up for cash. Ben says that he met Lucia at San Francisco International Airport and after talking for a few minutes, they exchanged numbers. They texted each other for months. Ben described Lucia as being a gorgeous “Eurasian” writer who used to work as a pussy peddler. One day, Lucia told him she got knocked up and wasn’t with the father of her unborn child anymore. Lucia asked Ben for cash and Ben, being super pro-life, gave it to her. But after Ben’s column came out, Lucia (real name: Tanya Ma) ran her ass off to Page Six and said that Ben Stein isn’t the giving Captain Save-A-Ho he makes himself out to be. Ben is a creepy predator who wanted to hug and kiss on her pregnant body.
Tanya tells Page Six that she’s only coming out with her side of the story and sharing texts Ben wrote her, because she’s a vigilante for justice and wants all of womankind to know about his sleazy ways.
Tanya Ma, a 24-year-old pregnant performance artist, said she contacted Page Six to tell her story because she doesn’t “want him to continue to do this to women.”
“It’s much more than sexting, cyber-escorting or being a sugar daddy — it’s unhealthy and toxic behavior that needs to be exposed.”
Tanya says that when she met Ben Stein, she thought he was interested in her as a writer, but after texting for four months, he started asking her for “racy” pictures. Tanya sent him some pictures, but he kept asking for more and more. That didn’t seem to bother Tanya too much, because she never blocked his number and she even agreed to meet him at a hotel near his house in L.A. Tanya says that Ben’s wife knew about everything and didn’t care. Tanya eventually called off their date in the hotel room when Ben told her he wanted to hug AND kiss her. Tanya was totally okay with Ben touching her baby dome, but kisses were off the table.
But “the day before I was supposed to meet him, he texted me” about wanting to touch and kiss, she said.
Ma said the ex-Comedy Central star wrote, “When you get here i want to hug and kiss you. I understand you don’t want to fuck me. But i want to touch you and kiss you.”
“I knew he had developed a crush on me, but it just started to get weird,” said a grossed-out Ma, who is 18 weeks pregnant by a former beau.
Growing “horribly uncomfortable” with his antics, Ma said, she texted back: “Ben, you may hug me and feel my baby bump, but anything more is too much for me. I’m not your girlfriend. Can’t we simply enjoy a conversation and meal? I’m pregnant.”
That dialogue sounds like the start of the worst and most uncomfortable pregnant porn ever. The texts that Tanya gave Page Six and the rest of this mess of a story are after the cut. Ben Stein better pay for the hypnosis sessions I’ll need to cleanse my brain of the image of him getting moist in the tip while telling Tanya that he wants to touch her baby bump.
I’m making the exact same confused stoner face trying to figure out what in Ice House Hell I’m supposed to be looking at (I want to say “cupcakes”, but I feel like the correct answer is “a representation of the feeling of a crippling meth addiction”).
Billy Bob Thornton appeared on a recent episode of Oprah’s Master Class, and for whatever reason, he whipped out a sharpened french fried potater and went for the jugular of the Food Network show Cupcake Wars. Of all the truly disgusting mind-numbingly bad reality shows he could have hissed at, he picked the one about people trying to make small cakes. HOW MUCH IS PIMP MAMA KRIS PAYING YOU, BILLY BOB??
“We don’t need one show about cupcakes, as far as I’m concerned. But you know what, if you’ve got one, okay, that’s fine, let’s have a show about cupcakes. But does it have to be a fucking competition? Do you have to have Cupcake Wars? And I’m sure people who have been in war kind of take offense to that. Because seriously, it’s not that goddamn dangerous to make a cupcake.”
Damn, shots fired! Welcome to 2014′s newest feud, starring the dude who used to be a dragon tattoo on Angelina Jolie’s shoulder vs. a low-budget baking reality show who’s main viewership comes from owners who left the TV on so their cats wouldn’t get lonely. Who will win?!? It’s tough to say, but right now my money is on a re-run of Unwrapped.
Meanwhile, Guy Fieri just popped a bottle of sparkling donkey sauce to celebrate that there’s someone out there who doesn’t consider him to be the dumbest, most useless thing on the Food Network.
via E! News
Last week, Joanie Faircloth released a “sowwwwwwy” for trying to ruin Conor Oberst’s life by accusing him of raping her after a Bright Eyes show ten years ago when she was a teenager. Joanie said in her statement of sorries that she created that work of fiction, because she was going through a hard time and her attention spot needed scratching. When most hos need attention, we write the word “I NEED ATTENTION” in a silver Sharpie on our bare ass cheeks and run down Santa Monica Blvd. naked (yes, that was me), but Joanie decided to go the life-ruining route by pulling some Alicia Silverstone in The Crush shit. Conor’s dad and manager (dadager? fathager?) claimed that his son lost $700,000 in album sales and licensing from being called a rapist. Conor is no longer going to try to get some of that money he supposedly lost, because he has dropped his $1 million libel lawsuit against Joanie. Conor probably figured that suing a chick for $1 million when she probably doesn’t have $1 million is like trying to pull a rational thought out of Kanye West’s brain.
Buzzfeed says that Conor’s laywer filed papers to get the lawsuit dismissed. Conor’s publicist released this statement:
“Conor had his lawyer ask the Judge to dismiss the complaint against Joanie Faircloth. Conor’s only goal throughout these court proceedings has been to expose the truth. As per his statement of last week: he looks forward to moving on to happier times.”
Joanie never took her story to the cops and never filed a police report against Conor, so she can’t be charged with first degree lie-telling.
I like that Conor said he’s looking forward to happier times. I’ve listened to every Bright Eyes album and judging by his songs, you’d think that he was permanently trapped in a dark cloud of Emo-ness and has never experienced a drop of happiness ever. So if he really is moving on to happier times, his career is over for real!
And I guess this has taught me, once again, to not believe everything I read on the Internet. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go write a post about how Joe ManJello is just using Sofia Vergara as a leased beard to hide his hot, gay relationship with ASkars and I know this to be a one hundred percent fact, because I read it on a True Blood fanfic site.
Last night was the Hollywood premiere of Guardians of the Galaxy, and for some reason Zoe Saldana showed up wearing one of Jane Fonda’s old high-waisted workout thongs over a sequinned skirt. I’m so confused. Doesn’t she know that if you’re going to wear a rib-grazing throwback thong, you need to give it the attention it deserves? Maybe you wear it over a pair of thick brown Hooters girl tights, but that’s it. Besides, a pair of high-waisted coochie-stranglers aren’t a fashion statement; they’re a symbol. A symbol that represents the Van Halen groupies and Daytona Beach strippers and the 90s beer commercial girls and all the other glamorous raunchy sluts across this great nation. Show some respect for your foreskanks, Zoe! Even Miley Cyrus knows that a front wedgie (NSFW-ish) is an honor and a privilege.
But I will say this – I do enjoy that if you cover the top half of her body and her legs, it looks like a t-bone steak that Liberace would order (“Extra glitter with a side of pizzazz, please”).
Here’s more of Zoe making the questionable decision to wear her underwear on the outside of her clothes but her bra underneath at the GotG premiere last night. Also there was former-pudding bodied hottie Chris Pratt with his muscle-hating wife Anna Faris, a very Tom Cruise-looking Bradley Cooper, and Vin Diesel, who must have huffed the exhaust fumes from his limo on the way there, because he was serving some wasted uncle at the family reunion realness.
Exactly one year ago today, a bunch of us dumb shits spent way too much time staring at a stupid, ugly door and waiting for it to open while a lucky lottery winner was born into a world where he’ll never know what the phrase “the rent is due” means, he’ll never see an overdue bill and he’ll do his first vodka shot out of an Eastern European cocktail waitress’ belly button as Uncle Hot Ginge cheers him on. Usually when it’s someone’s birthday, you get them gifts, but since the royal family are so giving and have charitable hearts, they gave the peasants new pictures of the future King of England. A couple of days ago, they gifted the eyes of their people with a picture of Baby Prince George that was taken before he bum rushed a photographer Kanye-style. Yesterday, they released two more pictures of Prince William, his receding hairline twin Baby Prince George and Duchess Kate at the butterfly exhibit of London’s Natural History Museum. That picture looks like a generic picture you’d find in a gold frame at the Hallmark store. They look too perfect. Even the Heart Family is saying, “Ugh, their perfection creeps us out!”
That baby drool on Duchess Kate’s dress is a nice touch, but it doesn’t fool me. It’s supposed to make them look like every other normal, average family, but you know it took 6 assistants, 2 bottles of organic oil, 2 electric fans and 3 paint brushes to make that perfectly sized baby drool stain on her dress. Even though that baby drool stain is some royal STUNT QUEEN shit, the baby drool broach will still become the #1, must-have fashion accessory of the year. Everyone’s going to work a baby drool stain. You should drool out as much drool as you can now, because it’s only a matter of time before drool sells out and becomes extinct.
And I’m no butterfly body language expert, but I’m pretty sure that poor butterfly is trying to say “ayúdame!” with its wings, because it knows that if it accidentally throws the wrong look at Baby Prince George, part of its wings will end up in his baby fits and its head will end up at the bottom of his stomach.
Happy birfday, Baby Prince George! I’m sure your #1 fan Morrissey is celebrating your special day by throwing a party for his cats in your honor.
Cops Have Advised Justin Bieber’s Neighbors To Put Him Under Citizen’s Arrest The Next Time He Throws A Party
This weekend, Justin Bieber threw a 2-day toddler rager at his condo in Beverly Hills in which the police were called six times for noise complaints and general assholery. Unfortunately for the poor souls who have to share a building with Canada’s constantly itchy butthole, there’s nothing the cops can do to prevent Justin from throwing more loud parties for his asshole friends, since he always turns down the music when they ask him to (sounds like someone was paying attention during the Backyardigans episode on manners).
But according to TMZ, his neighbors are right pissed, because it’s not just the noise; he’s turning their condo building into the island for obnoxious pre-teen shitheads from Pinocchio. TMZ obtained pictures showing the mess he left on the condo’s rooftop lounge, and residents have told them the elevators and hallways reeked of pot all weekend, adding that “There were bimbos lining up to do drugs in the lobby bathroom.” (I literally just pictured Kelly Bundy and her friends).
Despite photographic proof and numerous witnesses that claim Justin Bieber is a pint-sized nuisance, the cops claim they can’t arrest someone for a misdemeanour if they don’t see it happen. But they also claim that it is well within their legal rights to take matters into their own hands, since he’s currently on probation. The police have advised Justin’s condo neighbors that if they witness the human version of Babs Seed the Pony doing hoodrat shit in the building, they can put him under citizen’s arrest. Did you hear that? The police literally just gave Justin’s neighbors permission to ground him. The shade, the shade of it all.
And as much as I want to see a 60-year-old woman tackle Justin Bieber to the ground for smoking a joint in the vestibule, is that picture of the rooftop seriously the “mess” he left? Yikes. You know you throw a lame-ass party when you’re able to make Aaron Carter look like Studio 54 fucked Caligula.
Ashton: “No way. Creepy as fuck.”
Shia: “Hell no!”
Gerard: “Er, NO!”
Charlie: “Looks good to me – I’d hit it.” – bangsue
It was Bound to happen – The gravity of Kim and Kanye’s egos finally fused them into one person. – ANightWriter “Grape Juice”
Agnes McKee, the 105-year-old bad bitch of Oceanside, CA who threw the first pitch at some Padres game on Sunday!
Carly Rae Jepsen, 50 Cent and Mimi need to hire Agnes McKee to teach them how not to throw a first pitch like a half-blind, paraplegic T-Rex. Because Agnes McKee puts all of them to shame (although, that’s not really hard to do). The San Diego Padres asked Agnes McKee to throw out the first pitch at one of their games, because her war veteran husband, who died last year, played baseball in the olden days. After Agnes accepted the Padres’ invitation, she trained at her retirement home in Oceanside, because she didn’t want to look like a total dumb shit out there (see: 50, Carly, etc…). Agnes threw out an underhand pitch and confirmed my suspicions: if we were back in the 5th grade together and it was time to pick teams for softball, she’d get picked way before I did. But then again, a half-blind paraplegic T-Rex would get picked before me.
The Cy Young of memaws told KSWB-San Diego after throwing the first pitch that she’s not really into the Padres, because they don’t win shit.
“I haven’t been very into the Padres because they don’t ever win any games. I tried to learn the names of some of the ball players in case somebody asked me that.”
We all know where this is going. The Padres suck and Agnes McKee is a world-class pitcher. You don’t need to have the impeccable SLYCIC skills of The Long Island Medium to know that at the 2015 World Series, the announcer will announce, “And pitching first for the Padres is Agnes McKee!”