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The Cathedral of Saint John the Baptist will be closed for renovation today as crews take down the Shroud of Turin and throw it into the back alley dumpster outside since there's no need for it now that Vanity Fair has published THE HOLY FACE OF ANJESUS on their new cover. In Vanity Fair's new issue, which the Gideons will distribute to motels across the country beginning next month, Angie Jo says that the child army isn't hiring at the moment and also said that she and Brad Pitt will not bless the sanctity of marriage anytime soon.

Angie mostly talked about the new movie she wrote and directed called In The Land of Blood and Honey. No, it's not about the civil unrest on Pooh Corner. It's also not a post-apocalyptic tale about a battle for the last box of Nuttin' Honey (I WISH!). It's a love story between a woman and her torturer set during the Bosnian War. So it's sort of like a symbolic film about the time you watched The Tourist while sober (sans the love story part). Here's what Angie Jo had to say about that shit:

On how Brad thinks she's going to throw shade at directors now that she's a director (I see you eye rolling) herself: “Brad thinks I’m going to be a nightmare. I had such a good experience he thinks I’m going to be impatient with directors, which I already am. I get impatient with people working on a film that have their head in their hands like it’s the most complicated thing in the world.”

On how she'll thank her crusty green phlegm loogies when she wins every Oscar for her movie: "I had the flu. I had to be quarantined from the children for two days. I was in the attic of a house in France. I was isolated, pacing. I don’t watch TV and I wasn’t reading anything. So I started writing. I went from the beginning to the end. I didn’t know any other way.”

On what Brad thought of the script after she gave it to him to read: “He called and said, ‘You know, honey, it’s not that bad.’”

On taking directing advice from Brad: “He’d come in and say what he liked or what he didn’t understand. Like any woman, I would listen to most of it and fight a few things. He’s been so supportive. But it’s hard to separate the person that loves you from the critic, so I don’t think he’s a fair judge. People will judge for themselves. I think if you make a good movie people walk away arguing.”

On baby and wedding crap: “I’m not pregnant. I’m not adopting at the moment. There's no secret wedding."

And here's another picture from the issue of Zahara and one of the chosen ones:

The photographers should've taken the picture from the other side, because I'd rather see the "Trick, you called me over here because you said you had some crap to whisper in my ear and now you're suddenly a mute? And quick posing like you're letting out a slow-to-come queef with your mouth. It's creeping me out. My time: you're wasting it!" look Zahara is obviously throwing.

David Gest really needs to keep his bestiality fantasies involving Bubbles, Whitney Houston and Michael Jackson to himself, because the world doesn't want to know the SUCIONESS that slithers around in the gutters of his imagination. Okay, maybe we do, because if he did keep that mess to himself we'd never have this hilariously creepy story about a chimp's toe sucking fetish. This is what David Gest said during a Michael Jackson documentary that's supposed to air in the UK this October:

“Whitney was having dinner with Michael at his Neverland home when she accidentally dropped her knife under the table. While Michael was retrieving it for her, Whitney felt her toes being sucked. She moaned, ‘Michael, is that you? Don’t stop. That’s so sensual’. Yet Michael’s head popped up and her toes were still being sucked. It turned out it was Bubbles."

HAHAHAHA. David needs to show us the receipts or shut his second face, because this really reads like bad fan fiction. Like Whitney would ever use the word "sensual." Bitch isn't Courtney Stodden! Whitney would say something like "Ooooh, baby, suck the dirt out of that nail!" or "Get that jam like your tongue is peanut butter and we're trying to swirl up some Goobers!" or "When you're done there, baby, use that sweet suction cup mouth to suck out my doodie bubble, because I got a boatload with a stuck anchor."

Wait. Maybe that's why they call him BUBBLES?! Shit. Good. Night.

via The Mirror

Remember back in March when you had to stand in the long line at the free clinic to get your ear holes gargled out with an amoxicillin rinse after you made the mistake of listening to Kim Kardashian's whorrendous shit single which sounded like a drugged skank toddler faking an orgasm for an illegal underground chat line? Well, Kim made a video for that piece of shit and above is a 1-minute preview that leaked yesterday. To say that the leak Ray-J's crooked dick made on Kim during her sex tape was more enjoyable to watch than this leak is a damn understatement bigger than the corroded cum ball Pimp Mama Kris pushed out after E! passed her a check for her main whore's wedding.

But it brings a fart to my asshole to see that Kim has finally returned to what she's good at: slithering around like a fat fish dying in an oil slick. This is some public access soft core shit from the early 90s and I'm mad that Robin Byrd doesn't pop out to tell us that you can get a personal lap dance from this lovely lady during her day shift at Cheetah's.

Kim is as brave as she is untalented, though. The last time a gross, greasy pig crawled around like that in a Kardashian's presence, Khloe galloped onto the set, grabbed it by its neck and dragged it kicking and squealing to her eatin' den. Where the the hell was Khloe Kardashian when we needed her most?!

If you're like me and made the mistake of watching that pile of ass lube, then I guess I'll see you in line at the free clinic for an amoxicillin eyeball rinse!

Here's Kourtney, her kid, Scott Dickhead and Kim arriving at JFK last night to start shooting their reality show Kim & Kourtney Take It Up The Ass in NYC. I didn't know Louis Vuitton made custom made Nuvaring cases for big-pussied whores?

The producers of Dancing with the Stars apparently made a vow to only cast real stars from now on instead of thirsty bottom of the barrel whores looking for a quick check and a spotlight to fuck, and they totally accomplished that with the new cast! And by "totally" I mean "didn't." This mess of a list reads like the cast list for the straight-to-DVD sequel to Shark Night 3D. But I will say that Que Cat only jumped in my head once during the announcement and it was when the name "Hope Solo" came up. I mean, Hope Solo is a female athlete. Like I'm going to know that bitch. I only recognize athletes by their bulge. Anyway, here's the entire list of hos who will scoot their asses across the dance floor for some relevancy and a Dollar Tree trophy:

Nancy Grace - The spirit of a rabid hyena who took over a shaved bull dog's body and now devotes all her time to trying to eat the dead soul of Casey Anthony while making Joel McHale's nipples burn.
Chaz Bono - A magical being that came out of Cher's vagina. The end.
Elisabetta Canalis - Italian coke whore turned George Clooney's strap-on handler of choice turned dumped bitch.
Carson Kressley - The test tube baby of Cojo and Ellen Degeneres.
Rob Kardashian - The mutation of one of Khloe Kardashian's old nutsacks.
Chynna Phillips - My third favorite member of Wilson Phillips and Billy Baldwin's on-and-off again wife.
JR Martinez - Iraqi war veteran turned soap star.
Ricki Lake - The winner of this shit, obviously.
Ron Artest (aka Metta World Peace) - An L.A. Laker and an L.A. crazy
Kristin Calamaris - The blonde trick the producers of DWTS happened to pull out after they threw all of The Hills hos into a paper bag and shook it up.
Hope Solo - Han Solo's long-lost daughter and some girl who plays a sport that involves a ball.
David Arquette - A mess.

There is just so much crazy here (see: Metta World Peace, David Arquette, Nancy Grace...) that Vh1 has their cast for Celebrity Code 5150.

I can't wait until David Arquette and Elisabetta Canalis both get kicked off for missing their cues because they were too busy doing lines off of each other's nipple plates in the bathroom. I also can't wait until Nancy Grace foxtrots to Lindsay Lohan's Rumors while wearing hot pants and a Miller Lite t-shirt. But I really can't wait until the producers seat Case Anthony in Nancy Grace's cheering section which will cause her head to shoot through the studio ceiling, fly all the way to Florida and land on the front yard of Casey's hideaway to live there as a permanent lawn decoration forever. I already give that a ten.

via People

"No Katie, John Travolta isn't here. You're hearing voices again" shouted a nervous Tom Cruise. - Stock Broker

Runners-up:

When stuck with the decision to have a one night stand with Lindsay Lohan or free fall from the 27th floor of her high rise apartment nuts first into the sidewalk, always pick the latter. Your penis will thank you. - cs182

After the NY earthquake Charlie discovered a large crack under his window. - El Bastardo

At the Sienna Miller School of Interior Design this week: wall hangings and window dressings. - Sweetas

(Quick Note from 8/29: My Driving Miss Daisy duties start today, so this hanging ass crack might be at the top for a little while. There shouldn't be anymore interruptions in service for the next three weeks while I drive my mom to physical therapy (aka happy hour) since I'm training her on how to transcribe my blog posts from the backseat. Now you know why nearly every post will just have the line "Where did I go wrong as a parent?!" written over and over again.)

via Picture Is Unrelated

Ilse Uyttersprot, the Mayor of Aalst, Belgium who found herself in the middle of some ESCANDALOSO shit when a tape of her getting Dutched, Frenched and Germaned by her lovah on top of a tower in 2007 made its way onto the Internet last week.

Since I'm pretty much the Ron Burgundy of gay gossip bloggers, I barely did any research on Ilse Uyttersprot. But the research I did do says that she's sort of got the crazy running around her brain nodules and she's known for bringing the fuckery Dutch-style. Basically, the bitch likes to have fun even if it gets her another note in her mental health file. And back in 2007 while sight-seeing in Belga with her fiance, Ilse decided she really wanted to have fun by climbing to the top of a castle tower and letting her man put his sprot in her uytter.

A few Russian Polish tourists just so happened to be filming the sights from the top of a building across the way and they narrowed their lens on Ilse doing public ho shit out in the open. Below is the clip of Ilse trying to be slick while getting the dick:

The tape has apparently been passed around on forums for years, but it snowballed (heh, snowballed) into a full blown scandal last week. When the media asked her about it, Ilse refused to get into it since it happened so long ago and her vagina has moved on.

Fuck that "private matter" shit on top of a tower in Belga! This should be Ilse's campaign video. I'd move to Aalst and become a Belgium citizen by reciting The Smurf oath by heart (that's how you become a citizen, right?) just so I can vote for Ilse. A ho who isn't afraid to pull her chonies down and get her peen on out in the open is a mayor we can all trust!

via JOE (For Jen)

Andy Roddick (29)
Swizz Beatz (33)
Lisa Ling (38)
Cameron Diaz (39)
Frederique Van Der Wal (44)
Michael Michele (45)
Michael Chiklis (48)
Paul Oakenfold (48)
David Paymer (57)
Timothy Bottoms (60)
Peggy Lipton (65)
Elizabeth Ashley (72)
Warren Buffet (81)
Kitty Wells (92)

Sometimes in the wild, you come across two hot-blooded sessy beasts throwing looks at each other like they just want to get messy, and that's exactly the scene of love that went down in Malibu over the weekend when Becks laid his eyeballs on a Rob Reiner-alike with sex stuffed into his Speedos. You could cut the sexual tension with Posh's clavicle bone. Posh now knows why Becks always spoons with a big Father Christmas plushie doll every night. Here she was thinking that her sleep chattering (sleep chattering is when your mouth opens and closes real fast while you're sleeping because your stomach is hongray and it's trying to catch a fly going by or something) gave Becks the scareds. But nope! The truth is that Becks has always wanted Santa Claus to come down his chimney if I ain't being too subtle.

Just look at this picture of Becks frolicking in the sea while making fuck me eyes at Daddy Bear, and try to tell me that the song playing in his head isn't this one:

I swear, if a genie showed up and agreed to grant Becks one wish, he'd ask to be turned into a crotch patch on that bear's burgundy Speedo and he wouldn't even have to think about it. I really hope this story had several happy endings, because the love between a silver bear and an otter doesn't happen often.

Say what you want about Marilyn Manson (examples: he's turning into an old Lydia from Beetlejuice, a chick has to dip her coochie in make-up remover whenever he eats her out, he's definitely getting too old for this shit, etc...), but he always manages to pluck the most graceful flowers out of the WTF garden and his latest piece is no exception. Marilyn left Chateau Marmont last night with a gorgeous specimen who wore an elegant peek-a-puss dress exclusively from Bristol Palin's prom night collection, a pair of Lee Presson gloves, a puffy pussy patch (for shy sluts who believe you should leave labia to the imagination) and a face that could beat Kim Kardashian's face in a natural beauty competition. I like to call this perfect look: So THIS is what happened to Baby Jane.

Marilyn's ex pieces all say that living with him is about as pleasant as a wet fart to the face, but I have a feeling this one's going to last. Mostly because she's wearing a mask and probably can't see his face too good.

A revolution is brewing deep under the basement between a young black mother with a giant inflatable banana friend and the RACIST police officers in Miami Beach who just won't let a young black mother party with her giant inflatable banana friend! It all started when Beyonce, who is too busy these days barking at the House of Derriere sweat shop workers to bedazzle those pregnancy pantaloons faster, accidentally left the basement door open and out crawled Solange and her banana friend with a look in their eyes (or in her banana friend's case, his "blow hole") that said they were ready to paint the town with trouble. Before you wonder why Basement Baby's best friend is a giant inflatable banana, I should let you know it was either the banana, one of Kelly Rowland's crusty wig caps or a sculpture of her son Juelz she made out of moth balls. Yeah, your choices for a best friend are limited down in the basement.

TMZ says that on Sunday, Basement Baby and her banana friend made their way to Club Cameo in Miami Beach and tried to get in. They would not let Basement Baby's banana friend in and told her she had to leave that bitch on the curb. Now, Basement Baby reads a lot of old Life Magazines down in the basement so she knows that if she left a giant banana alone on the streets of Miami Beach, some drunk slut whore would fuck it right there or Tina Knowles would snatch it up and turn it into another skirt for her precious Beyonce. Basement Baby couldn't let that happen so she flipped the uppity bitch switch.

When the cops showed up, Basement Baby told them that the club refused to let her in because she's black and not because she's carrying a gigantic banana friend with her. The cops say they took Basement Baby across the street to calm her down. Basement Baby says that when the cops took her across the street, they pulled out a knife and tried to murder her gigantic banana friend!

Basement Baby hopped on her Twitter and let it be known in so many words that this would never happen to a young white woman with a banana friend:

I have literally had my last leg with discriminating police! Miami police department will be notified.

A police officer just pulled a weapon on me.... I have done NOTHING illegal, against the law, or anything of the sort.

I am simply tired of police using arrogance, ego and authority as an offense.

I'm only tweeting this to raise awareness. I could have left quietly, but I am sick & tired of this scenario being played over & over again.

I'm ok. I'm safe & sound at my apartment. I'm just beyond frustrated with the system.

It is time to do something about it. I am a mother raising a young black child in America. Im going to die trying!

Been on the phone for the last 20 minutes reporting this incident. Yes, I have the officers name. Yes, I have the location.

Scare tactics don't WORK.

I'm with Basement Baby! I'd tell her to raise a fist with me, but I don't want her to hit one of the ceiling tiles and wake the asbestos. In this day and age, we should be able to get drunk with our banana friends in a Miami club and walk the streets with them without some RACIST cop threatening to pop 'em to death. We're going to fight! It's what our foremother, Chiquita Banana, would want. If you're with us, take to the streets when you hear our march song.