PROGRAMMING NOTE: Thanks to a long ass flight from New York to California, this will probably be my last post until tomorrow. Because my system shuts down if I don't get a Sourdough Jack, a Double Double and Albertson's brand potato chips in me every few months, I'll be in California for the next two weeks. For now, I leave your ass with this vintage video of Jamie Foxx giving us the body electric as he breaks it down like his ass crack is hungry for a dollar. I'll try to recreate these moves at a Jack in the Box drive-thru later tonight. (via OMG BLOG)
Mimi's messy ass lamb appreciation video looks like a lost scene from Paranormal Activity (Paranormal Lambtivity?) - Lainey Gossip
Nothing says "bad ass bitch with a gun" like duck lips - The Superficial
I don't know if that's St. Angie's natural holy glow or if one of her beauty secrets is using anal lube as moisturizer - Hollywood Tuna
John Lennon is up in heaven, queefing with pride over this - (site NSFW) Drunken Stepfather
Is that an 8-pack or is he trying to smuggle 8 bars of coke past the border? (LiLo, take note) - Towleroad
Dennis Quaid's third time at marriage was not a fucking charm - Celebitchy
In a closet somewhere, a green velvet Jessica McClintock 80s prom dress is missing its sleeves - Popoholic
Gonorrhea of the throat ain't no joke - ICYDK
And Joe Pesci will try to rob it this Christmas - The Berry
Jessica Biel's got a bump on her hitchin' finger and maybe a bump on her baby growing area too? - Popsugar
Blue Ivy is probably literally turning blue, because Beyonce keeps suffocating her with damn blankets and shit - Crunk + Disorderly
Everybody give a gold digger slow clap to Dick Van Dyke's 40-year-old wife - Just Jared
A reporter walking into a pole. The end. - Videogum
What in Carmen Sandiego meets Disney parade dancer Hell is Naomi Campbell wearing? - I'm Not Obsessed
Who isn't Katy Perry humping on in Paris this week? - Hollywood Rag
Because every pet has a little Lindsay Lohan in them - Cityrag
I don't know if this kid should play Michael Cera in a Michael Cera biopic or if Michael Cera should play this kid in a this kid biopic - The Daily What
Let Zachary Quinto's Hayden Panettiere brows (aka midget brows) serve as a warning to all you amateur pluckers out there who don't know the power a pair of Tweezers hold. You might think you're just going to pluck a few rogue hairs, but the sweet sensation of yanking hairs out sometimes compels you to pluck pluck pluck pluck pluck pluck pluck away until all you've got left is a pair of stunted ass brows. It'll look like your eyes grew, but your brows didn't. Some baby brows on an adult face.
We've all seen that ho with teeny tiny brows who obviously let Tweezers control her instead of the other way around. Letting a pair of Tweezers make you its bitch is one of the biggest beauty mistakes. Looking like a dingo ate your brows is no way to go through life (shit, it's no way to go through the weekend).
Zachary Quinto has a good reason for why he looks like he just came from the HERP DERP eyebrow salon. Zachary shaved half of them off to get them Spock brow ready for Star Trek. If that shit doesn't grow back, I'm sure a Jonas brother or Martin Scorcese can give a bitch a donation, because they've got plenty.
The literary beacon of truth that is The National Enquirer (via Celebitchy) has put ASkars, Charlize Theron and a gay bar in the same story, and have given me the beautiful image of those two blond giants eye fucking each other as a go-go boy's ass cheeks wiggle in the background. ASkars has backed away from an Olsen and fallen right into the golden crotch on Charlize Theron. Some source says that Charlize and ASkars strolled into GYM Sportsbar in West Hollywood, ordered two beers and then found love in a homo place. The source said this about Charlize and ASkars' time together:
“They ordered two beers and went to sit on the patio. I realized it was Charlize and her date was Alexander Skarsgard. It was clear they were a couple, holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes.
People said hello, and they were really nice. After about 45 minutes, they left with their arms around each other and drove off in the same care.
Another source said that Charlize is busting nuts on the inside over ASkars and they went to a gay bar, because they didn't think anyone would recognize them there. Um, is GYM one of those "in the dark" bars or is 99.99% of its clientele completely blind, because what self-respecting gay dude would not recognize ASkars? I could be blindfolded in the basement of GYM and I'd know ASkars walked through the front door, because my asshole would start blowing out the melody to a Swedish Viking song.
Anyway, can you imagine watching these two fuck? It would be all legs and all blond hair. If you want to know what it looks like, pull off the legs from a Ken Doll, pull off the legs from a Barbie, grab a blond weave track, dip all of them into lube, throw them into the dryer and press "air dry" before fapping away.
Here's Shia LaDouche running all over Venice, CA yesterday afternoon while looking like an Amish hipster who is spending his rumspringa working as a roadie on the Bon Iver tour. This whole look is a scraggly, raggedy mess and none of it goes together. That slicked black ponytail belongs on a pervy comic book store clerk who spends his lunch hour jerking off into a coffee cup before trying to give it to unsuspecting people on the street (tip: don't take free coffee from Shia). That beard belongs on a bear's ass after it got a full body Ogilvie home perm. Those earphones belong in a Hazmat dumpster, because you know they're covered in ear barf since Shia doesn't wash in there.
I love a big, bushy beard, because it will scrub the dead skin and pimples off of your butt cheeks while you sit on its owner's face, but I wouldn't hit it. How can I hit a piece who obviously stole my abuelita's house cardigan?
Deadline Hollywood says that the rumor that Simon Cowell is trying to fill one of the empty judge's chairs on X-Factor with the Louisiana trailer park blossom is coming true. Simon wants X-Factor to rise to the top like his man tits when he inhales and so he's offered Brit Brit $10 million to join the judge's panel for the second season. Simon is looking for two lady judges to replace walking Vicodin pill Paula Abdul and Nicole Scherlyyoualreadyforgotthishosfullname.
If Brit Brit's string pullers tell her to take the money, she will be making about as much as Xtina is making for The Voice and $2 million less than JLo is making for American Idle. The Hollywood Reporter is hearing that Brit Brit's fiancé Sam Merlotte Lite is negotiating her contract and if talks aren't derailed from her insisting that they let her judge while sitting in a plastic trash can full of Frapps, the deal will be done next week. The squinting Falcor LeAnn Rimes is also talking to Simon about taking the other spot after Janet Jackson gave a thumbs down to it.
Brit Brit isn't allowed to open her mouth in public unless she says words pre-approved by her team of puppet handlers, so I'm not sure how this is going to go. Is the whole thing going to be scripted? Is there going to be a Campbell Soup can phone on the table in front of her and every time she has to say something, she'll put it to her ear and repeat the words she hears? Is she going to sit on Daddy Spears' lap and move her mouth as he imitates her voice while giving criticisms like "Aw, you're so sweet" and "Aw, that was awesome!" Please let it be the last one.
"Oh, that's just Kween Karl sucking the blood from his human's penis vein" is a line Kunty Karl's neighbors use often when their friends ask what that "trout slurping up a spaghetti noodle" sound coming from the next apartment is. Karl has been slowly siphoning the youth out of 22-year-old Baptiste Giabiconi with a titanium Chanel tube for at least 2 years and I've never seen him as the sharing type. You haven't felt the burn from a fiery glare until you've sung "pass the coochie to the left hand side..." to Kunty Karl as he dabs his lips with a white lace hanky after nibbling on Baptiste's muse mussy. So that's why this story from The Sun is about as suspect as everything that comes out of Lindsay Lohan's mouth.
A source tells The Sun that while Katy Perry was in Paris for Fashion Week, she spent a little time whispering sweet nothings into the ear of Karl's muse. While Katy was still married to hobo Jesus Russell Brand, Baptiste told his friends that he'd love nothing more than to get her to divorce her husband so he could marry her. So when Katy went to the Chanel show, Baptiste saw his chance and took her to dinner. The source says that Katy and Baptiste were with friends, but they acted like they were covered in a heart-shaped bubble and weren't the least bit terrified about the possibility of an albino vampire dropping from the ceiling to kill Katy with cuntness for eating food (gross) and for trying to steal his huMAN! The source put it like this:
"They were with a group of people, but they looked very much like a couple in love. He was never more than a foot away from her and they were very flirty. There was a lot of whispering, shared jokes and they were really flirting."
We all know how this movie ends. Baptiste and Katy are going to marry in Romania, but after Karl starts terrorizing all of Baptiste's friends, Baptiste comes back to him and realizes they were soulmates in a past life and begs Karl to become his maker. As Karl starts to transform Baptiste into a vampire, Katy bursts in and tries to destroy Karl by throwing garlic bread (garlic + carbs = a fat-hating vampire's kryptonite) at him. There's a struggle! There's lightning! There's a theme song by Annie Lennox! There's COSTUMES! COSTUMES! There's boob hair! There's blood in the form of red silk imported from a small village in China! Karl will curse Katy!
And when all is said and cursed, Karl and Baptiste will be wrapped in each other's arms while Katy looks down to find that her Chanel couture gown has become rags from a designer discount store in Jersey. Katy's skin will never feel the touch of next season couture again. This is how it's going to go, because at the end of Dracula, Keanu Reeves was totally wearing some shit from Daffy's.
So Katy better step off unless she wants to spend the rest of her life wearing ten seasons ago Ralph Lauren! Moral of the story: Don't fuck with Kunty Karl.
It looks like Debbie Harry's plan to get Lindsay Lohan off of her look by sending her a box of Samy Fat Foam (in shade: rust water) worked, because here she is sashaying around a parking lot in L.A. yesterday with a ginger mane spilling out of her head. LiLo hasn't been a ginger for a couple of years and many have said that if she went back to her original color she'd no longer look like Hatchet Face's grandma whose greatest achievement in life is making the cover of Faces of Meth Magazine: AARP Edition.
So did LiLo prove that the ginge cures everything? Sort of. Anything is better than that yeast infection hair color she had before this, but I still want to sprinkle salt on those lips to find out if my 2nd grade best friend was telling the truth when he said that a slug's greatest enemy is the Morton Salt Girl. LiLo's next stop on the comeback turnpike should be to go back to her original face. Rewind, bitch.
In a blind taste test, two out of three participants prefer the taste of Ashton Kutcher over Charlie Sheen. - I am Legend
Some people spit, some people swallow ...
Some people just save it for Guinness Book of World Records. - Cinesnatch
To combat rumors that they are spending too lavishly, Beyonce and Jay-Z only hired three testers to taste Blue Ivy's bubble bath. - OurMissC
Marilyn Hagerty, the writer of the Eatbeat column in North Dakota’s Grand Forks Herald who became a breakout Internet star yesterday when her review of her city's hottest and most beautiful restaurant The Olive Garden made the rounds on Twitter and Facebook. You should really read Marilyn's entire review, but here's a taste of her tour through Italy:
After a lengthy wait for Olive Garden to open in Grand Forks, the lines were long in February. The novelty is slowly wearing off, but the steady following attests the warm welcome.
My first visit to Olive Garden was during midafternoon, so I could be sure to get in. After a late breakfast, I figured a late lunch would be fashionable.
The place is impressive. It’s fashioned in Tuscan farmhouse style with a welcoming entryway. There is seating for those who are waiting.
My booth was near the kitchen, and I watched the waiters in white shirts, ties, black trousers and aprons adorned with gold-colored towels. They were busy at midday, punching in orders and carrying out bread and pasta.
It had been a few years since I ate at the older Olive Garden in Fargo, so I studied the two manageable menus offering appetizers, soups and salads, grilled sandwiches, pizza, classic dishes, chicken and seafood and filled pastas.
At length, I asked my server what she would recommend. She suggested chicken Alfredo, and I went with that. Instead of the raspberry lemonade she suggested, I drank water.
Marilyn has been reviewing her city's restaurants (including Pizza Ranch and Taco Bell) for at least 30 years, but it was her recent review of The Olive Garden that got the most attention, because snob whores in bigger cities thought it was cute that she reviewed a chain restaurant. Marilyn's review got so much attention that the Village Voice and her own paper interviewed her about it. This part from Marilyn's interview with her paper is like a sprinkling of parmesan on my soul:
Hagerty said her daughter, Gail Hagerty of Bismarck, urged her to read the Facebook comments about her review.
“I told her I’m working on my Sunday column and I’m going to play bridge this afternoon, so I don’t have time to read all this crap,” she said.
Marilyn doesn't understand why bitches are so into her review and she's even gotten hate mail from major assholes who called her review "pathetic."
Who are these pieces of trash throwing hate at an 86-year-old restaurant critic? They ain't shit for thinking they're better than her and acting like The Olive Garden isn't the hottest Italian restaurant in every city from New York to Grand Forks. News flash, whores, it is. A couple of weeks ago, my friend and I tried to fill our stomach bags with delicious rubber noodles and ketchup sauce from The Olive Garden in Chelsea, and the host told us it would be a 45 minute wait and there was no room at the bar to eat. This happens every time I go there and sometimes I grab that vibrator pad, sit on it and wait. So bitches don't know what they're talking about.
Fuck the haters, Marilyn. They're just jealous that you can easily get soup, salad and breadsticks in the mid-afternoon and they have to wait 45 minutes for it. Pity their asses as you bite into a pepperoncini.
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