Someone Is Leaking Alleged Naked Pictures Of Jennifer Lawrence And Every Other Famous Chick On Earth
Well, every famous chick on Earth except for Joan Collins, Charo, La Tigresa, Duchess of Alba, Chantal Biya and the Rhubarb Lady (read: all the famous ladies we really want to see topless selfies of). Why is it never Charo and the Rhubarb Lady?!
The Internet has pretty much exploded and it’s a damn miracle that every website hasn’t been obliterated into a million pieces from everyone freaking out over naked pictures of Jennifer Lawrence, Teresa Palmer, Kiki Dunst, Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Hope Solo, Kate Upton and others that were splattered all over (NSFW) 4Chan today. The hacker who leaked them claims he’s got a video of JLaw giving a beej and has more nipple pictures of Amber Heard, Ariana Grande Latte, Mary-Kate Olsen, Avril Lavigne, Selena Gomez, Winona Ryder, Hilary Duff, Kaley Cuoco, Gabrielle Union and on and on and on.
Buzzfeed says that the hacker got a hold of all those nudes due to an iCloud leak. Because of the security leak, the hacker was able to hack into a bunch of phones. The hacker allegedly has over 60 pictures of JLaw alone. Victoria Justice is pulling some Blake Lively shit by saying, “It ain’t me,” but Jennifer Lawrence’s rep has pretty much confirmed it’s her in those pictures by telling TMZ that they’ve contacted the authorities:
“This is a flagrant violation of privacy. The authorities have been contacted and will prosecute anyone who posts the stolen photos of Jennifer Lawrence.”
Of course, whores are screaming, “THIS IS WHY YOU SHOULDN’T KEEP PICS OF YOUR PRIVATES ON YOUR PHONE!” You know, I agree. That is why whenever I need to send a trick a naked picture of me, I get one of those street cartoonists to draw me naked and then I mail it to him. The street cartoonists usually make my naked body look better, anyway.
And when I scanned that list, my eyes glazed over and I was overwhelmed with the “mehs” when I didn’t see the names: Anderson Cooper, Prince Hot Ginge, Joe ManJello, Carrot Top, ASkars and Idris Elba.
Oh and you know who’s behind this. I guess Goopy Paltrow has been taking hacking lessons in between her caviar farming classes and getting her anus gold leafed.
You’d think that the world’s saddest-looking pussy would be attached to the crotch of Justin Bieber’s one-night side piece who heard him say, “It’s in balls deep, babe, TAKE IT,” after she said to him, “Okay you can stop pinky fingering me and give me the salchicha already,” but this sad-looking pussy has that sad-looking pussy and all the sad-looking pussies beat.
This is Tucker, an adorable ball of fur who was born with a genetic condition that always makes her look like you on a Tuesday morning after a 3-day holiday weekend. Metro says that Tucker was brought into the Purrfect Pals adoption center Arlington, WA after her human wasn’t able to take care of her anymore for whatever reason. Tucker has a genetic abnormality that causes her face to droop and she bruises easily, so she has to always wear a protective shirt. Tucker’s bio (which has since been deleted) on Purrfect Pals’ site says that even though she’s got a lot of ills, she’s got a lot of love to give and she really loves children. Can’t you tell? That’s her “I really love children” face above.
Tucker came to Purrfect Pals when her owners could no longer keep her. She is a very unique looking cat due to some genetic abnormalities but is very cute and lovable! Because some of her joints are not constructed normally, we have to be careful to provide steps and other accommodations so she won’t hurt herself. Tucker also has an auto-immune disease that makes her skin very thin and easy to bruise. She also has hair loss because of scabs that she pulls off. We have to keep her dressed in t-shirts to prevent her from doing too much damage to her skin. Tucker enjoys sitting on laps and playing with string toys! She also loves to be pet under the chin and behind the ears and is great with children!
Tucker’s bio went viral a few days ago, so I’m sure she’s already been adopted, because who wouldn’t want a cat who expresses your feelings about most things perfectly.
In either an inadvertently humorous response or a subtle “yeah, go fuck yaself, Donnie” to bitchery over his not attending his brother Donnie’s wedding to moronic child-endangerer Jenny McCarthy in NYC yesterday, Mark Wahlberg posted a video (below) to his Instagram of him and his million children congratulating them. He explains to those who care (*looks around, finds no one*) that he couldn’t attend because it was daughter Ella’s 11th birthday. (Right, Ella? Help Daddy lie now!)
Mark Wahlberg does very little for me. I have a psychic scar to explain it. When I was in high school, one of my best lady friends would make us drive past his Mom’s house every day after school in the hopes that he would be visiting and I guess naked on the front lawn. It was one town over from our school. This was back when he was “hot” (which was right after “racist” – er, I don’t think that’s what made him hot for her). One day he DID happen to be leaving his mom’s house, so my friend gunned it to follow him wherever he was going. It was bad enough that I wasn’t out of the closet in high school and was now in a car chase with a male teen idol and Calvin Klein underwear model for everyone’s future reference. But then she caught up to him at a stoplight. I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life. I just stared straight ahead praying for death. I don’t even know what she did. He drove off while I was wondering if it would be possible to shove myself into her glove compartment out of shame. This explains my aversion to Mahk. Well, that and he comes off as an asshole.
That being said. I am so with Mahky Mahk on this one. I would have said it was the guinea pig’s birthday and they would have had to deal. Or I was getting the car washed. Or combing my pubes that day so they looked particularly fluffy and buoyant. Or “your bride has a child body count website dedicated to her.” That should suffice.
And we’re going to need you to keep worrying about that, Rufus, and please look into a vasectomy. Stat. To quote Michael K. when he brought this story to my attention – “theeee fuck.” In an interview with The Times, Rufus Wainwright casually mentioned that he was happy to have fathered a daughter (Viva, in February 2011) because he “would hate to be attracted to a son.” Pretty sure the son would feel the same way.
‘I don’t think it would happen,’ he apparently laughed in response. ‘[It's just that] when I’m old and he is 35 and gorgeous…
‘Well he would probably look like me. And I would be like, “Oh my God! I’m falling in love with myself!”‘
Honesty = not always the best policy. Rupert was really telling the editor in his head to fuck off that day because he also explained away not having a gay following by claiming that “gay men have terrible taste in music.” Look, I’m not going to rabidly argue that point (my iTunes library shames me), but that’s still a pretty sweeping generalization, you pretentious, hypothetically incestuous twat.
Listen, I’m a married dude. I understand wedding planning madness. That train stops for no one or no thing. Once that shit is planned, booked, paid, and screaming matched over, it’s ON. If I found out on my wedding day that the other Mr. Harvey had raw-dogged a baby into a bitch during some sort of last stab at heterosexuality, I would just roll my eyes and stick that ho and her kid at a table near the kitchen. And you can be assured she wouldn’t be going home with a centerpiece.
Gabrielle Union married Dwyane Wade yesterday at Miami’s Chateau Artisan, apparently having gotten over the fact that he knocked up some other chick while they were “on a break.” HAH! Look, if I didn’t fire my now-husband from his own wedding for forcing Barenaked Ladies onto our cocktail reception playlist, she can forgive her betrothed a child with someone else. Some of these vendors don’t issue refunds!
Union, 41, married the Miami Heat shooting guard, 32, “in front of an intimate crowd of family and friends,” sez People. John Legend performed at their reception. Oh, and they made all their guests wear “formal white.” Ugh, can you imagine? How are you going to get drunk and eat? And get more drunk? Those can be messy ventures for a lot of people. Was that the point? Puritan fucks.
And all this white was sort of a laugh seeing as Union was sued in 2010 by Wade’s amazing and resourceful ex Siohvaughan Funches for allegedly having dirty times in front of their children.
The only way this mess could have been any better is if Siovaughan jumped out of the cake with Wade’s latest kid in one hand and a sonogram print-out showing she was knocked up with his next kid in the other.
Check out pics of Gabrielle and Dwyane (that spelling is worsening my hangover this morning) leaving their rehearsal dinner at Miami’s Prime 112 restaurant on Friday night below.
Florida stripper Bobbey Jo Boucher (with a name and description like that, expect greatness) obviously took Casey Anthony’s Superlative Parenting course down at the Learning Annex. When the police rang Bobbey Jo up at work to get her help in locating her missing 10-year-old daughter, she hung up on them saying “I have to get onstage.” That’s the sort of employee that’s going places. Can you get get an engraved plaque at Things Remembered to commemorate Titty Dancer of the Month? Someone find out.
The Smoking Gun (via the NY Daily News) reports that the kid’s grandmother reported the little girl as missing after she didn’t return home from a barbecue Boucher had dropped her off at on the way to work. Pasco County cops were unimpressed by Bobbey Jo’s dedication to her pole at Calendar Girls (“Full Liquor – Full Contact – Full Nude”). She was arrested and charged with misdemeanor obstruction. The little girl was later found unharmed and hopefully Nana Boucher is awarded custody.
If Tanya, Peaches, or Crystalline were any sort of friends and co-workers, they would have offered to pop their pussies in Bobbey Joe’s stead so that she could locate her missing child.
Bobbey Jo claimed that she accidentally hung up on the police because she had another call. Let’s hope it wasn’t the bitch from the Parent of the Year Awards organization. Because I’m guessing she won.
The Windmill at Every Mini Golf Course!
Everyone knows that mini-golf is a historical dutch tradition, hence the presence of a beautiful and tasteful windmill at every fucking mini-golf course in the entire country. Windmills at mini-golf courses are as American as apple pie, baseball or Kim Kardashian’s ass. When I was eight my mother had a copy of Sidney Sheldon’s “Windmills of the Gods” and I thought it was about Zeus owning a mini-golf course. Which actually would have been a really hot movie.
Richard Gere (65)
Jeff Hardy (37)
Shar Jackson (38)
Sara Ramirez (39)
Chris Tucker (42)
Deborah Gibson (44)
Queen Rania of Jordan (44)
Jonathan LaPaglia (45)
Gina Schock (55)
Julie Brown (56)
Marcia Clark (61)
Van Morrison (69)
To celebrate Wiz Khalifa’s album, Blacc Hollywood, hitting the number 1 spot on the Billboard 200, his exquisite former-stripper wife Amber Rose paid tribute to her husband’s career milestone in the most Amber Rose-ian way possible: by recording a video of her twerking her all-natural XXL booty balls in her underwear in front of a fireplace and a portrait of her husband and posting it to Instagram. It’s videos like this that totally explain why Amber Rose changed her name from her born name, Amber Levonchuck: a demure goddess that’s as delicate as the dewdrop on a pristine rose petal should have a name to match.
Obviously if you’re going to acknowledge someone’s accomplishments, a half-naked twerk-o-gram is the way to go. Fuck flowers! If I did a good job, I’d be thrilled to receive a jiggling ass. Then again, if Michael K surprised me a twerk-o-gram, productivity would drop to 0.00%, because both of us would be too busy marveling at such booty beauty to get any damn work done.
And is it just me, or does Amber Rose look exactly like a come-to-life version of one of the Amazonians from Futurama?
Video: Amber Rose
I figured if there was any time to post a gorgeous picture of Joan Rivers serving up stunning 80s pink taffeta realness with the most glamorous creature in the universe, Miss Piggy, it was now. On Thursday night, Melissa Rivers released a statement regarding the status of her mother’s condition after Joan’s heart stopped working during a procedure at a clinic, saying that Joan was in resting comfortably in a coma (which made me hopeful, because if daytime TV has taught me anything, it’s that people wake up from comas all the time).
But today TMZ is bringing us the shitty news that Joan Rivers has been put on life support, and that her family will have the next couple days to decide when to turn the machines off. TMZ says that Joan’s family is hopeful that an angel dressed like Loretta Castorini will descend from Heaven and tell her to snap out of it, and the NY Daily News says she’s surrounded by her family at this time.
I was under the impression that Joan would out-live us all (considering she’s had considerable upgrades done in the past 20 or so years) so I don’t know what to think. I definitely don’t want to think about her being escorted up to Heaven by the ghost of Spike, and I DEFINITELY don’t want to think about poor Melissa having to make the decision to pull the plug on her own mother (too sad). But I suppose if sad shit is mean to happen, at least Joan herself can tell me everything is going to be OK (skip to the 23:27 mark and get your finest Joan Rivers for QVC scarf ready to dab at your eyes):