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There was an episode from last season's Top Chef: Just Desserts where they had to make edible outfits to match a pair of high heels and the show's runner-up, Morgan Wilson, nearly internally jizzed himself inside/out over this pair of red shoes. Really. I kept waiting for him to excuse himself so he could go into the pantry and fuck his peen hole with its heel. Like he's that kind of freak. The kind of dirty freak who will om nom nom on your panties if you left them on the floor and nibble on your pit hairs while you slept. I always got that kind of vibe from him, but I didn't ever think he was a freak of the illegal kind. But his sucio ass is, apparently.

ABC News says that Morgan was hit with a felony child porn charge a couple of weeks ago after undercover investigators caught him downloading illegal shit on Limewire last year. Yes, this motherfucker was using Limewire. Here's all the lovely details from ABC News that will make your pores barf:

The 38-year-old chef, who lives in Plano, is due in court Oct. 27.

Wilson was first arrested on Dec. 7, 2010 after undercover investigators say they received several file transfers from Wilson via a peer-to-peer file-sharing service. Those files, received in Sept. 2010, allegedly contained images and videos of children, some as young as toddlers, engaged in sexual acts. Police subsequently searched Wilson’s home, where they say he signed and dated pornographic images he admitted he’d viewed. Wilson’s laptop computer and external hard drives also were confiscated. He was released on $10,000 bail following his December arrest and ordered not to use computers without supervision.

Wilson reportedly works as the executive pastry chef at the Ritz Carlton Hotel in Dallas, though his name does not appear on the hotel’s website. He also has a young son, about whom he often spoke during his Top Chef: Just Desserts “confessional” segments.

And is this nasty herp derp-looking bitch wearing a Snuggie in his mug shot? Pack up your tools and go directly to jail!

One way to keep psychotic birds from pecking the blood out of your face is to do yourself up so you look like you've already felt the beak wrath of a flock of winged animals.

Ring the crazy alarm, because we've got one right here. Katherine (get ready to clear that loogie out of your throat) Heeeeeeeeeeeeeiiiiiggggggggl stepped out in L.A. yesterday with a mop of blond straw that was as frazzled as your nerves whenever she opens her eye roll maker during interviews. This is a look that only a mental hospital butterfly net could love.

What's worse is that do you how many skin necks on peens shook on the shaft with fear when they got a glimpse at Katherine's coat? Imagine yourself as foreskin and look. If you don't act right, your owner is going to cut you off, trim your edges with black leather and you'll spend the rest of your days trapped on this annoying hag's body. Buffalo Bill ain't got nothing on this ho and her wool foreskin jacket.

Courtney Stodden's clear bra straps make me believe that fragile works of fine elegance still have a place in this ugly world. Clear bra straps are like lucite heels for your shoulders - The Superficial

This story about John Travolta thinking that KFC is a 5-star fine dining establishment that takes reservations is a 12-piece of YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! - Lainey Gossip

Nicola McLean takes on a set of stairs in heels and loses - Hollywood Tuna

I don't know who's more baked, the camera dude or the anchor? - The Daily What

Squinty Zellweger will file a copyright infringement lawsuit against the makers of the Beardo in 3..2... - Towleroad

Just here for the boutonnière - Popsugar

A titty tape scandal can't keep Stacy Kiebler down - Hollywood Rag

Either Natalie Portman is the size of an elf's peen or Baby Aleph is HUUUUUUUGE - Just Jared

Kim Kuntrashian and her whores celebrate Halloween early - (site NSFW) Drunken Stepfather

Matt Boner and some people you don't care about at the In Time premiere - The Berry

I'm assuming Amber Heard's back tattoo says "Ashton Kutcher i love you, love is forever fan love you" - City Rag

The Piranha 3DD trailer is here - SOW

Chris Brown and Kelly Rowland might be a thing but probably not - Celebitchy

How many hos does it take to carry Beyonce and her unborn golden child to the safety of the pavement? - ICYDK

Kelly Clarkson wants to punch out Adele - I'm Not Obsessed

In the crazy voice of Tyra Banks: FIND THE LIGHT, SOFIA! FIND THE LIGHT! - Popoholic

Mark Duplass puts the ASS in Duplass - OMG Blog

During the Republican debate on Wednesday, I learned that Michele Bachmann and I have a lot more in common than I thought. We both love corn dogs, we both love using cake as an analogy and every time we see Anderson Cooper's face we both scream out his name over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again even though he's clearly ignoring us like we don't exist in real life.

Except when I do it, I'm usually rubbing my nipple plates and swaying my nalgas around at the same time, which I have a feeling is exactly what Marcus Bachmann was doing in the audience. So let me correct myself: Marcus Bachmann and I have a lot more in common than I thought.

via Jezebel

Ashton Kutcher had 4 minutes to spare on Wednesday and he had two choices on how to spend that time: take a crash course on how to put on a condom before fucking his side whores; or let out a long-winded douche hole rambling monologue on chime.in about how the media needs gatekeepers and how the printer is out of paper. AssStain went with the second choice, the WRONG choice, and I don't even know what came out of his mouth.

Ashton's brain gargled all of his thoughts and then his mouthed queefed a giant load of meaningless crap. Ashton not only looks like a homeless conspiracy theorist who rattles on about sneaky clouds when you put a quarter in his cup, but he also talks like one too. This is the gist of what poured out of Ashton's colostomy bag mouth:

"I started thinking (Ed note: You should've stopped there) about that in relation to social media and media today. The threshold to have literature printed and distributed -- the cost structure went down to zero dollars. Thereby, there is no gatekeeper of the truth. We are our own editors, and our own publishers. We are our own printers. Therefore people can bastardize the truth in any way, shape or truth they want.

We really have to take it upon ourselves to instill a level of honesty in our works and the media we create and we share with each other. And be certain we are doing our own diligence to ensure what we're saying is for the benefit of another...using our full capacity to share the truth."

Let me fix that for you, Ashton. "We are our own editors, and our own publishers. We are our own printers. Therefore people can release a 4-minute-long fart of distraction to mask the scent of the cooch cream they raw dog fucked out of the trick they cheated on their wife with."

P.S. - I thought about Ashton's deep words, and if I was a printer, I'd totally be a broken Epson.

via HuffPo

Xtina continued her never-ending anti-pants protest in Los Angeles yesterday by bringing the thunder and her spandex-covered labia to the Agent Provocateur store. You don't have to wonder about what she spent her money on there, because I'm sure in the very near future she'll wear it on the street with nothing but heels and a scarf. Xtina obviously follows of my one fashion rules: if the clit isn't in plain view and your nipples aren't eating air, then you're ready to strut your shit out in public.

Yes, Xtina just needs a pickle jar shoved in her mouth and she'd be the spitting image of a "before she had money" picture of Snooki, but that's not what offends me the most. It's the trucker hat! The trucker hat was supposed to be buried deep inside 2001's grave and it keeps coming back. I mean, the trucker hat is obviously what's keeping Xtina's "weekday morning-shift stripper going to work" look from being the epitome of expensive sophistication.

I'm alone in this, but I'm not even mad at Xtina for hating pants. Somebody has to continue doing Edith Massey's good work.

The trailer for St. Angie's directorial debut In The Land of Blood & Honey (or In The Land of Blood & HUUUUUUNTY as my favorite YouTube star will undoubtedly call it) is here and watching it will make you ejaculate sunshine and burp up warm hearts. Of course, I mean it will make you do the opposite of that since this looks about as dark and depressing as how I'm going to spend my Friday night (hint: crying on the toilet while eating frozen grapes will happen at one point). If you don't want to go there, then the only way to watch this trailer is to hit mute and let the musical masterpiece below be its only soundtrack.

Collider says that this feel good movie of the holiday season is about a Serbian soldier (let's call him Private Brag Tipp) who falls in love with a Muslim prisoner (let's call her Angela Jolli) and the two struggle to keep their love together as the war (let's call it The Anistonian War) he's forced to fight in tries to tear them apart. Sound familiar? Subtle bitch is subtle as always. The reviews are in and here's just a few:

"A cinematic triumph that exquisitely uses the perfect metaphor to explore the heartbreaking struggles between Brangelina and Jennifer Aniston. You know, the only war any of us care about." - Next week's cover of Star Magazine

"This trailer is really uncool." - Beanie Babies Weekly

"Michael, you're stretching that plot out so much that it's almost as loose as your asshole." - You

The shocking news of the day is that White Oprah is redirecting the usual actions of her pimp hand from pushing her kids onto the ho stroll to pushing at her ghostwriter to do that extra line of powdered No Doz so they can finish her memoirs before her #1 ho gets thrown into jail. The not-so-shocking news of the day is that White Oprah is trying to sell her memoirs by selling out her daughter in it. When the vodka bottle goes empty, it's every Lohan for themselves!

TMZ got a hold of the prologue from White Oprah's soon-to-be Pulitzer Prize winning autobiography (possible titles: Crackdays with Lindsay, Lindsay Ashes: I'm Dancing On Them, A Million Little Enablers and I Know Why The Coke Bird Snorts) and in it she writes all about Lindsay's sad transformation from child star to premiere mug shot model. White Oprah uses her favorite snortin' finger to point the blame at everybody but herself for ruining her daughter's life. Here's just a few excerpts from the Book According to Delusion:

"I blamed her friends, her career and her handlers for an (sic) newfound lifestyle of partying excessively. Drinking, drugging and behaving irresponsibly became Lindsay's way of daily living--and it tore me up inside."

"How could I deny my daughter the chance of a lifetime? How could I hold Lindsay back from her dream of becoming an actress? So, I listened to others and sent my daughter to Hollywood with a few pieces of luggage and a chaperone."

TMZ says that White Oprah "worked" with a ghostwriter (aka Nana Lohan) on the prologue and her rep started shopping it around to publishers two weeks ago. So far, every publisher she sent the prologue to, rolled it up and sent it back. To which, White Oprah said "THANK YOU!" since she had herself a new jumbo coke straw.

Gossip Cop threw a bucket of ice water on White Oprah as she lay passed out, face first in a barback's bin on the floor of a Long Island sports bar, and asked her about this. White Oprah opened up her whiskey orifice and said that would never write anything negative about her child. The deluded evil twat went on to say, "When and if [I do write a book] it will be all positive.”

Everything that comes out of White Oprah's mouth has as much credibility as what comes out of her asshole, so we should all believe that she's kicking coins out of her daughter when the bitch is down. That chill in your ear you just felt was Papa Joe, Joe Jackson, Billy Ray Cyrus and Pimp Mama Kris all saying "too far too far" at the same time.

If you molded a Raven from RuPaul's Drag Race statue out of Kellan Lutz's hard ripped shits (yes, even his shits have a six-pack on them), Madge's escapee arm veins and Jodie Marsh's old face, then covered it with whatever you cover a Barbie with, threw a chestnut-colored FLOR tile on its head and pinched its face until it looked like it was trying to push out a fart through its nipple holes, you'd have Joey Lawrence in a completely natural and not-at-all staged glamour shoot in the middle of a West Hollywood park the other day.

If you unplugged those plugs and dropped a miniature beret on top of his head, he'd be the white Blaine Edwards! Three snaps toward a bottle of Pepto-B, because Joey looks like he has the runs and is trying to hold in a butt plug at the same time (the butt plug is winning). LOVED-ED IT!

Hair plug maintenance, weekly body fur removal and anus tinting don't pay for themselves, so flex your way to that money, bitch. Let the flames of jealousy shooting off of your haters' eyes singe your stray brow hairs so they stay looking like they just stepped off of the face of a Disney evil queen. Twerk, werk, whoa!

Investigative reporters dug up Courtney Stodden's old pageant photos, and have determined that she really is 17 . . . in dog years. - jerseygirl17

Runners-up:

I don't want to say ugly, but this was Ali Lohan's only competition for winning the cover of Fault magazine. - Manimal5

After the kids finally left for the mental insti, er, college, Kate Gosselin found herself some new barking cash cows. - eatmylumpia

Many years after her divorce from Brad Pitt and after the children have grown up and left the house, Angelina still can't give up her adoption addiction. Shown with her are: crax, dax, fax, flax, lax, smax, stax, tax, vax, trax, and wax. - Rocket

(Thanks Sean)