Professor Brian McKnight, who has a PhD in pussy education, is serious about teaching you the ABCs of poon and so he's released the full version of his how-to-make-your-coochie-cream ballad. Never mind that most pussies will force themselves into sleep mode if Professor McKnight tried to teach it anything, I'll still be humming it while rolling around my Ikea sheepskin rug tonight. And now I'll leave you and this mess alone, because I know you need to practice the moves you're going to do while slow dancing to this song at your wedding. It's definitely some first dance shit.
You know, this fuckery could also double as an anthem for cats in the workforce.
via Kid Fury
Lindsay Lohan's former partner in pussy is taking a break from making hundreds of thousands of dollars for pressing playing on iTunes at parties and is trying to the whole singing thing. I have no doubt that SamRo can press the fuck out of a play button on an iPod, but daaaamn her singing voice makes me wish she came with a mute button. SamRo's album "Chasing the Reds (An Ode To Period Sex)" is out now and she warbled out one of the songs on LIVE! With Kelly this morning. If you've ever told a lame dog that its soul-killing painful yelp is the worst thing that has ever touched your ears, then you need to send that lame dog an apology card. Because this shit is worst. SamRo getting a record tells me that every drunk frat boy who sounds like hell while singing a Bruno Mars song during karaoke night at the sports bar (you know who you are) should also get a record deal.
I was going to throw hate at Kelly Ripa for saying that SamRo's piece of shit song is going to be all the rage in bars, but then I realized that she's probably telling the truth. Whenever a bar is slow, they're going to put on this SamRo song and BOOM! Every ho in there will buy a shot of EVERYTHING and drink until the booze overflows up into their head and drowns out their sense of hearing.
Vanity Fair puts Marilyn Monroe on their cover again, but it could've been worse. They could've put (insert the name of a celebwhore that powers your eye rolls here) as Marilyn on their cover instead. - Celebitchy
The make-up department of The Railway Man figured it's easier just to throw some brown bangs over Nicole Kidman's marble slab forehead than to try to paint lifelike wrinkles on it - Lainey Gossip
Willam somehow found a way to stuff my favorite phrase "dick cheese" into a Selena Gomez song - Towleroad
Pretty sure Lindsay Lohan came out of the womb with a Red in her mouth so the source (read: White Oprah) needs to stop with the "hardly smokes" shit - The Superficial
Kate Upton dances like a chimp having a seizure - Hollywood Tuna
Sofia Vergara's nipples sort of come out for GQ Mexico - (NSFW) Drunken Stepfather
Michael Assbender is covered in way too much clothing in Esquire UK - ICYDK
The "meditation" should be an oil wrestling bikini match, because Tameka's gladiator ass would have that shit wrapped up three seconds after the bell rang - Crunk + Disorderly
That tiny wolf dog is way too adorable to be seen with the likes of Miley's ass - Popoholic
This is mostly what it looks like when my childhood farts - The Berry
How many Kardashians were shaved to make that vest Chupa's wearing? - Popsugar
The Gay Super Bowl nominees are out! - Just Jared
Malin Akerman delivers - Cityrag
The fuck is Carrie Underwears wearing? - I'm Not Obsessed
Not-So-Fun Fact: The mall that was used for the Back to the Future mall is the mall where my junior high school friend told me to stand guard outside of the bathroom in Sears so she could get finger banged by her boyfriend inside. I still hate her today. - Hollywood Rag
You don't need a bike lock when you've got Li Li who can guard your shit from thieves and look adorable while doing so. Meanwhile, my dog just completed his 45th nap of the day and he's still looking at me like, "Bitch, stop typing so loud. Some of us are trying to sleep."
In "Bitch, you know you need to stop" news, Charlie Sheen is threatening to throw a lawsuit at Cheetahs strip club in Manhattan for naming the VIP room after him. The president of Cheetahs says that Charlie isn't mad because the club is using his name to make money, he's mad because men can pay to eat sushi off of semi-naked strippers in the VIP room and he feels this damages his reputation. Charlie does have a point. Charlie has a tarnished, bruised, wart-ridden reputation as the warlock king of sucioness to uphold and eating raw fish off of a bare titty is an act that's way to classy for him. If a dude could pay to snort dried tiger blood out of a hooker's ass crack as a goat slapped its lipstick on his back, Charlie wouldn't be bitching. Here's what the president of Cheetahs told Page Six about Charlie's threats:
“We figured it would be comical to name a room after him. It was a room [with pictures of Charlie in it] where you could dine on sushi served on cellophane on the body of one of our entertainers, not where you do crack. Then we got notification from his lawyer to cease and desist, claiming the usage of his name would be detrimental to his persona. They said they would sue us for millions if we carried on. How could sushi damage Charlie Sheen’s reputation? We thought dedicating a room to dine in his honor would help repair and elevate his image. He should have called us up and thanked us. We have now removed his name, he wasn’t doing big business for us anyway. We had a little ritual and threw his image in garbage — a celebration of Charlie Sheen being dumped.”
Charlie's lawyer says it has nothing to do with his reputation and everything to do with Cheetahs making money off of his name.
Who thought this was a good idea in the first place? If I'm going to nibble on coochie fumes-infused raw salmon, I don't want to do it while staring at a Charlie Sheen picture staring at me. That combination sounds like a quick way to get a case of the barfs and a case of the retina herps.
I'll never know why Cheetahs didn't name their VIP room "The Piven Cave" in the first place.
On last night's grand finale of RuPaul's Drag Race (click here to see the whole thing), Willam finally burped up the rule she broke that led to her getting banished to the land of misfit wigs. Willam didn't get sashayed away for cheating on a challenge or for being Shangela in disguise. Willam fucked himself by getting fucked!
When you make the cast of Drag Race, you have to tuck that fact into your mouth and you're not allowed to tell anyone. Willam tried to convince his husband that he was off to Europe to shoot a movie, but ho didn't believe him and followed him to the hotel where he fucked the crown away. Willam later told producers that the muffled moans coming from his room weren't from Phi Phi trying to take the competition out by suffocating him with a breastplate. Willam told them the truth and that's why she was told to take a final strut down the catwalk. Here's the Disqualification of Willam in her own words:
Willam: “When you go away to Drag Race, you can’t tell anyone — it’s top secret. And I told my husband I was doing a non-union horror movie in Europe, which I’ve done before and they suck, so don’t watch them. And he didn’t believe me. He was like, ‘Why you gotta take all this drag?’ So I lied, and he followed me to the hotel. The first night, he walked on my door, and it was a delivery!”
Ru: “So in other words, you were receiving conjugal visits from your husband and, unfortunately, that was in violation of the rules?”
Willam: “Visiting makes it sound like we were visiting — there wasn’t no talking. But they were very long visits — he’s 6’6″.”
I've always said that if you're going to screw yourself out of $100,000, you might as well have something to show for it like a sore asshole and a sex spot on the hotel sheets. Peen is the only acceptable reason for getting DQ'ed from a competition.
Willam's explanation for barfing on the side of the stage didn't make it into last night's episode, but Entertainment Weekly was at the taping and they said she ate too much food. Willam knew she was going to get eliminated and so she ate her feelings at lunch.
Willam explained that she knew she was getting eliminated from the show, so during her lunch break that day, she gorged herself. If you remember, she was wearing a corset-style top that day. So it was simply biology at work: She ate too much and was squeezed into something too small to hold it — so something had to go. Willam did explain, however, that she cleaned up the mess herself.
This explanation makes sense when you remind yourself that Willam's idea of food is anything that comes in a bottle with the word VODKA written on it. Please, like that bitch eats food!
As for the queen who took it all, you won't get any complaints from me. If the crown didn't go to Chad Michaels, the graceful flower plucked from the Laurie Waring garden, then it needed to go to Sharon Needles. Anybody but Phi Phi's Gene Hackman in drag looking ass.
Okay, maybe I have one complaint. Sharon wore a Ouija board headpiece that blocked the tiara Ru put on her head. Sharon is officially the queen now so it's her duty to always keep her head crown-ready from now on.
Yes, most hos in Los Angeles had to take a row boat to work this morning after Jessica Simpson flooded the streets with the tsunami of amniotic fluid that poured out of her while giving birth, but at least she can now walk the streets without having to worry about Ooma Loompas trying to roll her into the juicing room. Jessica announced on her site that 9 lbs. 13 oz. of baby came out of her body at a hospital in L.A. this morning.
As the Pop Tarts industry weeps over Jessica inevitably going on Weight Watchers to get her "body back," read the statement that I'm sure their baby wrote herself since she had nothing else to do up in there but listen to Rosetta Stone MP3s.
"Eric and I are elated to announce the birth of our baby girl, Maxwell Drew Johnson. We are grateful for all the love, support and prayers we have received. This has been the greatest experience of our lives!"
Maxwell Drew sounds like the name of Nancy Drew's know-it-all boy cousin who has dreams of becoming an R&B star.
Now that that's over, brace yourselves for all the magazine pictures of Baby Maxi holding her ears because she really doesn't want to her mother oversharing at the mouth about how great post-birth sex is. And can somebody please tell Papa Joe to take off that human breastfeeding pump costume already? Jessica isn't going to fall for it again!
OctoMom has 15 mouths to feed, doesn't have a steady job, gets at least $4,000 a month in public assistance, is losing her house and owes her creditors $1 million. So in order to dig herself out of the mountain of bills that is bigger than the mountain of dirty diapers in her kitchen, she can either try to sell some of her kids to Brangelina ("This one looks really good wearing all black, Angie!") or she can declare bankruptcy and tap her octopussy on camera for a check. Octo is going with the second option. I'll wait here while you update your "Things I Don't Want To Put My Eyeballs On But Will Put My Eyeballs On Because I Like To Feel Dead Inside While Watching Porn" list.
Octo tells E! News that she's hoping to start over financially by taking a Magic Eraser to her outstanding invoices from Verizon Wireless, Orkin Pest Control (note: that joke is too easy), the DMV, a Christian school, Sparkletts, Indy Mac Mortgage and a few utility companies. Octo filed for Chapter 7 on Friday and in the documents she says that she has $50,000 in assets and $1 million worth of liabilities. Octo went on to tell E!:
"I have had to make some very difficult decisions this year and Filing Chapter 7 was one of them. But I have to do what is best for my children and I need a fresh start."
Because Octo's financial state is as broke as her sanity, she's signed up to do solo porn for an unnamed adult entertainment company. A source tells TMZ that Octo is getting more than the $10,000 she got from Closer for posing sort of topless, but who knows if she's getting close to the $1 million Vivid offered her ass a while ago. Octo has vowed a million times over that she will never go against her morals by doing porn, but she doesn't see this as porn since she's keeping her hands to herself.
My stomach just filed for Chapter 7 just thinking about Octo rubbing on her coochie tentacles. Didn't Octo say that she's celibate and hasn't hugged her clit with her fingers in years?! Not only is this video going to fuck with our faith in porn, but it's also going to be depressing, boring and uncomfortable as all hell. That mess should be marketed as an educational video on how NOT to do yourself. Watching Octo try to rub out an orgasm is probably like watching John Travolta try to figure out how cunnilingus works.
The crazy who said that every time you masturbate, God kills a kitten, was talking about this right here.
The record for the most nerdjizz loads to hit the ceiling at the same time was broken last night when the newest trailer for The Dark Knight Rises (Yes, I think of a bat boner every time I read that title) was released (Yes, I think of Batman shooting out a bat signal made of bat chowder every time I read "Dark Knight released"). What I got from the trailer is that Bane gets a vocal cord transplant with Liam Neeson and when he's done blowing up New Gotham York City and shit, he should read classic English novels on tape or narrate the next Planet Earth series. His voice is like English Breakfast for my ears. I'm also trying to get into Anne Hathaway as Catwoman, but the husky voice she's putting on makes her sound like she's got a hairball stuck in her froat and she's about as mysterious as a Scooby Doo episode.
And you know, more people should say, "There's a storm coming" at the beginning of trailers, because that's not done enough. I would be so pissed if someone told me there was a storm coming and they really meant it as a metaphor. If some ho told me a storm was a coming, I'd go out and buy yet another piece of shit bodega umbrella thinking that it's going to rain when what she really is meant that a bunch of comic book villains are coming to burn our city down. Bitch, just say we're all going to die. Now is not the time for your poetic metaphors and yes, you will reimburse me for that bodega umbrella.
In another hard hitting journalism story, Anderson found out what was hiding beneath Mariah Carey's pants. - Kismet145
As you can see, Brian McKnight, Anderson is very aware of how his pussy works. No instructions needed. - TOPANGA
Why yes, Mr. Cooper, my fur rug DOES match your drapes. - MrsL
via Best Week Ever