Snooki has finally found a juiced up Guido meat head to hold her hair when she barfs up last night's Jager shots, kiss her bruises when she gets punched in the mug and sleep on the beach with her when she's too drunk to find her way home.

Snooki and her piece of the moment Emilio Antonio flew into NYC's La Guardia Airport last night looking like two gremlins after drinking an entire bottle of Ed Hardy perfume.

I'm sure these two love dingles will last longer than a herpes outbreak. And I hope Emilio doesn't mind his dick smelling like the Vlasic stork's breath, because Snooki uses pickle juice as lube.

A few weeks ago, an unphotoshopped picture of Vadge's "I'll get you my pretty" face terrorized the internet. And now we've got another one. Although, this one isn't going to make you want to hide your children under their beds.

New York Magazine posted this before and after from Vadge's Louis Vuitton campaign. Even wonk-eyed Vienna Sausage from The Bachelor could clearly see that "after" picture has been covered with layers and layers of Photoshop. They erased the He-Man from her arms, replaced her current face with her True Blue face and then made it rain watercolors all over her.

Personally, I prefer the "before" picture, because Vadge looks like your drunk stepmom after coming back from a costume party where she dressed as a bordello version of Donnie Darko. Vadge is impatiently waiting for you to get her a cup of Alka-Seltzer on the rocks with a splash of gin.

Rich at FourFour has once again spent many long hours away from Winston to put together this supercut starring the hardest working bitch in Hollywood: THE MIRROR! According to film makers, when you close your bathroom medicine cabinet there's a good chance that a monster, a creepy boyfriend (who you suspect is plotting to kill you) or Harrison Ford will be staring back at you.

The truth is, bathroom mirrors don't really scare me. I mean, my bathroom is so damn small that it would be pretty much impossible to successfully creep up behind me. Only an anorexic fly, a dandelion or Gary Coleman on rubber stilts could do it. Since I put it that way, now I'm officially scared of mirrors thanks to my own thoughts.

But I still rip open the shower curtain all dramatic-like just in case a maniac with a machete is behind it. If you're going to go out, you might as well give them some THEATER!

Here's the voice of all mothers Kate Gosselin looking as precious as a pimp at church on the cover of her THIRD book. Don't you just want to softly stroke her Bret Michaels weave before yanking it out in pieces to tie around her mouth and hands? I think that's what Kate was going for.

People reports that Kate's new book I Just Want You to Know: Letters to My Kids on Fame, Money and that asshole Jon comes out on April 13th. The book will feature Kate's prayers, selections from her personal journal and letters to her kids. Kate explains:

"Each day the thought crosses my mind that when they get older, my kids are going to look back and think about how they were raised. I know they will have a lot of questions about things that may not make sense because they were raised so unconventionally. I don’t want them to grow up and wonder; I want them to know without a shadow of a doubt how much I love them and how much every sacrifice made was worth it for them."

Touching. But what's even more touching is one of Kate's letters to her baby friends:

Dear my adorable money makers childrens,

Why the fuck are you reading this?! Stop dicking around and go make that money! Back alley weaves don't come cheap! Smile really purdy for the cameras too.

Oh, and get momma a cold bottle of Evian. COLD!

Love and Possum Whispers,
Your Boss

Kate's kids will be able to read their mother's letters to them when they save up enough money to go down to the local Barnes & Nobles to buy a copy of her book. Sorry kids, no complimentary copies for you!

NOBODY was prepared for the games at Tila Tequila's baby shower - nili

Runners-up:

It's a pretty bold move to hold auditions for your next wife the same day you're going to court with you current wife, but then again, Charlie Sheen is a bold guy. - Cunty LaRue

With three entries in the race, the Kardashians were a shoe-in for winning the Fame Whore 500. - Detective_LaToya

The challenges on Double Dare have gotten a little more difficult since Ron Jeremy took over for Marc Summers. - starvis

This is all I can show of the full caption picture since it features nipples, blurry vag and dildos. The full mess is after the jump and it's not safe for your cubicle. JUMP!

Laura Chinchilla, Costa Rica's first ever female president!

It's about damn time the chinchillas get some real love. Lately it seems that the only time I ever see a chinchilla is on the back of Kanye West or Johnny Weir. But now the chinchillas are ruling the world one country at a time starting with Costa Rica. Laura Chinchilla will take office on May 8th after winning the presidency in a landslide victory. The chinchillas won't sleep this week, because they'll be too busy partying!

Look at these two chinchillas. They are getting the party started right:

And this one from Hawaii is so happy he's hula-ing for Laura:

And this one is getting ready to set sail to Costa Rica so he can personally nibble Laura on the cheek:

Okay, I'll stop now, but I could really devote my entire day to this. Viva chinchillas!

Judith Light (61)
David Gallagher (25)
Ziyi Zhang (31)
Charlie Day (34)
Amber Valletta (36)
Colin Egglesfield (37)
Travis Tritt (47)
Charles Shaughnessy (55)
Jim J. Bullock (55)
Ciaran Hinds (57)
Mia Farrow (65)
Alice Walker (66)
Joe Pesci (67)
Carole King (68)

Before Beyonce gets doused with a bucket of metallic paint, rolled in rhinestone dust, attacked by a pack of wigs and sprayed with the sweat of a thousand Glittery Gays of YouTube, she looks like this.

This morning in Rio de Janeiro, Beyonce slipped on her custom-made "just rolled out of bed" lacefront and greeted her fans on the balcony of her hotel room. And by "custom-made," I mean Solange was down in the basement teasing and knotting that thing so it could look as natural as possible. Basement Baby gets an A+!

The marriage of The Real Housewives of Orange's Tamra Barney and that creepy Simon dude is currently in the gutter right next to Lynne Curtin's parenting skills and Alexis' call girl past (I'm convinced she has one). Radar says that right after Simon filed for divorce from Tamra, she ran off to cry on the peen belonging to Eddie Judge. Eddie is Simon's best friend.

Simon said that when he saw the two holding hands at a club in Las Vegas, he was so devastated that he dropped to his knees ala graceful Vicki. Somebody give Lynne a sippy cup filled with Freixenet, because we're going to need her to cry Botox tears for Simon. Turns on the tears, Lynne:

After Simon pulled a dramatic queen cunt move by falling to the floor, he confronted his best friend Eddie who kept quiet. Simon went on to say, "I couldn't believe what I had just witnessed -- the ultimate betrayal by a pal and my estranged wife. I started to feel weak and feel to my knees. The doorman helped me and by the time I had regained my composure they both left to the other side of the club."

Tamra confirms that she's whoring it up with Simon's best friend, "We are romantically involved, he is a great guy. It was bound to happen that we both would start dating again after he filed for divorce. It was going to happen sooner or later. I don't know what the future holds with Eddie and only time will tell."

The only thing I need to know is if this Eddie dude can keep Tamra in the lifestyle to which she used to be accustomed to before Simon's checking account flat-lined. Tamra deserves to live in the biggest track house on the cul-de-sac, drive a pre-owned BMW and wear the finest rags Off Saks has to offer. On second thought, scratch everything I wrote because I just had a last-minute vision of a barefoot Tamra hunting for empty cans in the dumpster and it brought a twinkle to my soul.

Oh, and can someone tell Lynne she can stop crying for Simon now:

If any more moisture seeps out of her, she's going to shrivel down into a damn raisin. And how entertaining would it be to watch a drunk raisin? Actually, it would be really entertaining. Cry on, Lynne!

I never understood why Hugh Hefner's pacemaker skipped two beats for his ex-girlfriends The Shannon Twins. They were so below average on every level to me. I figured he liked the choo choo choo noises they made when they spoon fed him. But after seeing these pictures of them at Playboy's Super Bowl party this past weekend, I now see what Hef sees. Like me, Hef has a soft spot for Fresno meth hooker hair circa 1987 (aka "chola going to spring formal" hair aka 90s teen mom hair aka Sav-On cashier hair).

This is the kind of hair you get when all you've got is a travel-sized bottle of gel and a gas station sink. When your trick gets a little too carried away and sprays the party all over your hair, simply rinse it off in a sink (a garden hose will do too), shake the water out, apply a generous amount of gel and scrunch your way to instant glamour! In just a few minutes, you'll look just like these two day-shift pussy peddlers.

I should've never doubted Hef's cataract encrusted eye. He knows what's good.

Here's the other junkies, tramps and thieves who showed up for the potato buffet at the Playboy Mansion yesterday. They are: Mini-Me, Chuy, The Two Coreys, The New Landers Sisters, Daisy de la Whora, nuns from the Cathedral of Our Lady of Angels and Brittania from Rock of Love Bus.