Here's the Halloween cover of Badass Prison Bitch Living with what they say is Martha Stewart as Motha Stewart on it, but we all know this is some Silence of the Lambs shit with a touch of Ann Jillian for good measure. If Ann Jillian was Buffalo Bill. I can't wait to read what kind of craft projects Martha came up with using human skin and dead moth larvae. I'm sure there's also an article on how to make the well in your basement comfortable for guests (aka kidnapped victims) and an etiquette lesson on the correct way to put the fucking lotion in the basket. It's a precious thing.
via Daily Mail
Since you use all of your memory cells to keep track of how many of your morning bowel movements are banana shaped, let me refresh your brain on the recent stunt queen moves provided to you by the couple the sanitation department put together to keep the trash in one place. Back in July, Vanilla Gorilla and Kat Von D pretended they ended their engagement so whores would watch the season premiere of her reality show L.A. Ink. When the new season of L.A. Sink tanked and TLC threw it into a coffin a month later, Kat Von D and Vanilla Gorilla coincidentally announced that the power of love (and the need to keep their expenses down by sharing Valtrex prescriptions) brought them back together!
But last night, Kat Von D wrote a Facebook entry where she said that she's no longer shaving her pussy bush into the shape of a Hitler stache so Vanilla Gorilla can get an extra thrill when she sits on his face. Beware: PLUGS galore ahead:
I’m sure this will be the most "uneventful" blog I have ever written - but its purpose is simply to answer a lot of the reoccurring questions I've been getting asked lately - and I’m hoping this will answer them for you :)
I think maybe the final episode of LA Ink left things a bit confusing to some. So in a nutshell here goes:
1. I am not in any way moving to Texas. I am not opening up another tattoo shop. And I am not leaving my shop here in Los Angeles, High Voltage Tattoo.
2. I am not in a relationship. (And I apologize for all the "back and forth" if it’s caused any confusion)
3. I am in no way retiring - (what does that even mean anyway???)
4. My tattoo shop is not closing, and is open for business like always! (Same goes for my art gallery, Wonderland - next door to High Voltage Tattoo.)
5. As hard as it is to sometimes let go of the things you are so accustomed to doing, I am happy to have done LA Ink, but am even more excited about new upcoming ventures - and cant wait to eventually share more about this with you all!
That’s all. I told ya it would be uneventful… ;)
This is the point in the post where I'm supposed to write an in-depth analysis of what went wrong, but I'd rather hear about your banana-shaped bowel movements.
One of the world's greatest modern mysteries behind "What is that shit Taco Bell puts between a taco shell?" will not be answered today. January Jones is not unmasking the face of the dude who owned the sperm fish that took a chisel to the frozen shell that surrounds her icy ovary egg and pushed itself in. TMZ says that the birth certificate of her son, Xander Dane Jones, is completely blank on the spot where the daddy's name goes. Basically, January pretty much wrote: "If I did know, I still wouldn't tell you prying cunts."
The names Matthew Vaughn, Bobby Flay, Xander Berkley and Jason Sudeikis have all been thrown around as possibilities for the dude who will answer his door in 18 years to find a half ice cube, half human asking him, "Are you my daddy?" But I hope January keeps her face lips shut about this shit. January's heart is as frozen as a lima bean bag left in a hoarder's freezer and she's the kind of cunt that gives Heather Mills an inferiority complex, so this little bit of daddy mystery only makes me love her ice cold ass even more.
But we all know why January is really keeping the identity of her baby's father a secret from the public. January lets out a bitchified smile every time she thinks of Maury Povich waking up in the middle of the night with the cold sweats because he knows he will never ever live to see the day where he gets to publicly tell the true dad of January's baby that he IS the father.
January: 1, Maury: ziiiiilch
How does a multimillionaire lesbaby superstar get his 19-year-old girlfriend to cuddle with him under the top sheet when his babysitter walks out of the room to bang her head against the sink faucet for choosing the career she has chosen?
Well, in case you needed to be reminded of the fact that no child should have that kind of power or money, TMZ reports that Justin Bieber got an idea from Mr. Deeds (FROM MISTER FUCKING DEEDS!) and rented out the entire Staples Center in Los Angeles to give his girlfriend Selena Gomez a private screening of Titanic. You know, because a stadium bigger than John Travolta's b-hole has the perfect acoustics to show a 4-hour long movie. Why do I have a look on my face like Elizabeth Perkin's in Big when Tom Hanks jumps on the top bunk during their "sleepover"? Selena better join that babysitter at the head-banging sink faucet, because her life is officially Big.
A source says that Selena and Justin went to Demi Lovato's show at the Nokia theater last night and afterward he took her underground (not a euphemism so don't let your brain go there) and walked her to the Staples Center. The source also says that Justin has sold out the Staples Center three times so they gave him the place for free as a thank you.
Afterward, Selena lounged across the stadium seats and asked Justin to draw her like one of his girls on his Etch-A-Sketch, wearing this (aka a Heart of the Wonka Factory candy necklace), only this.
If Selena wasn't pissed about this mess of a gift then I really can't with her anymore. Justin shits liquid gold into his diapers every day and this is the cheap shit he gets Selena? If Justin doesn't gift Selena with diamond-encrusted Big Wheels and platinum building blocks, what is she going to pawn after he eventually dumps her ass for Usher?
(Image via Instabieber)
Personally, I'd rather have a Cheesecake Remix of Miami is Nice, but when it comes to Betty White dropping her voice on top of beats you have to happily take what your ass can get. Betty White and English pop person Luciana snatched the phrase Wonky McValtrex's sink drain skank ass tried to trademark, drowned it in a Hazmat-approved plastic tub full of antibiotics and brought it back to life in song form. This is Betty White and Luciana burning up the lanai and making pussies pop out cheesecakes with their single "I'm Still Hot."
Betty White can do no wrong and saying anything bad about would send me into a deep hell where Golden Girls reruns are not played in the middle of the night, so I will not say that this song gave me agita of the ear drums. I will only say that Betty puts the GRAM in Grammys, so she should win a million Grammys for this shit. Wave your arms like an abuelita waving an invisible chankla and get some of this.
Meet Harper (no number needed), an 11-month-old pit bull puppy who has a sweetness in her eyes that will make even Lucifer take the day off and a twinkle in her smile that is killing my hangover with awwwwwws. By looking at her tiny happy face, you'd never guess that Harper has already been fucked once by humanity when some evil cunt monster of the highest order tossed her in a trash bag like a common piece of Kardashian. The man who put Harper in the bag was selling other pit bull puppies outside of a Save-A-Lot in Sanford, Florida and said that he couldn't sell her, because she was born with “swimmer puppy disorder,” a sometimes fatal disorder that keeps doggies from struttin' and walking.
The man gave away Harper for free and she brought to a shelter where vets said there was not much they could do. Erica Daniel, who regularly visits that shelter, wanted Harper to have one nice night before sliding up through the cloud tunnel up to heaven, so she took her home and planned to bring her back to the shelter in the morning to be euthanized. But (Dear Kelly Rowland, don't sing along with this next line) love took over and Erica decided to keep Harper after watching her try to walk on her own.
Erica took Harper to another vet who ran some tests and said that her internal organs are fine and he didn't think she needed to go on a one-time date with the lethal injection needle. With a lot of therapy, Harper is already doing better and can strut her ass on grass. Here's Harper's story from Today.
And no, of course those are not actual human tears trickling down your cheek. A rain cloud has miraculously swept into your house and is only raining on top of your face. Or an onion farted in your eyes. That's my story too.
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