A second masseur has come forward claiming that John Travolta sexually harassed him during a massage. Just like the first masseur, the second masseur isn't giving up his name and wants $2 million from John. The second masseur (aka John Doe #2) has the same lawyer as the first masseur (aka John Doe #1). All of this might not have happened (it still would've happened) if Scientology provided their hos with a harem of gay call boys. If Scientology insists on keeping their members in the closet, they might as well throw some dick up in there. Damn.
Radar got a hold of the lawsuit filed by John Doe #2 in L.A. this morning, and he claims that his massage date of terror with John happened on January 28, 2012 at some fancy resort in Atlanta, GA. John Doe #2 says he doesn't normally do in-room massages, but he took it after another masseur turned it down. John Doe #2's co-worker used to work at a spa in L.A. that banned John Travolta for trying to get a happy ending from their masseurs. John Doe #2 says that when he showed up to John's room, he noticed John looked a mess and had bloodshot eyes. As soon as the massage began, John, who was lying on his stomach, pulled the towel under his ass, spread his nalgas and showed the masseur his brown eye of Xenu. John then started flaring his Scientolohole like a cat begging for the Q-Tip. John kept squirming around trying to get the masseur to give him a deep prostate massage. I'll let John Doe #2's lawyers put it in his own words:
On the morning of the massage, the lawsuit alleges, Travolta had "a strange demeanor, bloodshot eyes and climbed onto the already setup massage table...Travolta removed the entire sheet from his body, and he claimed the sheets were sticky and could not tolerate the heat...Travolta further indicated that he likes a lot of 'Glutes' work meaning a massage on his buttocks...While he was massaging near Travolta's buttocks area, Travolta would open his legs and spread his butt cheeks open and had a full erection and would maneuver in a way to try to force Doe Plaintiff No. 2 to touch his anus and around his anus.
Then, Travolta started to grab, rub and caress Doe Plaintiff no. 2's upper thighs and buttocks....Travolta still had an erection and wanted his abdominals done, but Travolta's erection was in the way and he refused to have his penis covered by a sheet of a pillow case cover...Travolta started masturbating about 15 minutes left in the session, and Doe Plaintiff No.2, said he had to go.
John Doe #2 claims that he told his supervisor, but it was all swept under the rug on Travolta's head.
John Travolta's lawyer Marty Singer tells TMZ that just like the first masseur, the second masseur is a card carrying member of The Lie Tellers Club. Marty says that when the media proved that John Travolta was on the East Coast filming a movie on the day John Doe #1 said he was molested, the lawyer brought out John Doe #2.
Singer calls the new allegations "absurd and fictional" ... and says they're "just as fabricated" as the claims made by John Doe #1 in the initial lawsuit filed May 4th.
Singer also blasts the lawyer who's representing both accusers -- claiming the attorney obviously read media reports which poked holes in accuser #1's story ... and then made adjustments when asserting claims on behalf of the 2nd alleged victim
A John Travolta masseur is the new Tiger Woods mistress, right? Can't John Travolta just put an end to this shit by simply saying, "Listen, bitches, I couldn't have be in L.A. trying to give a handy to John Doe #1, because I was on the East Coast trying to give a handy to John Doe #3. Case dismissed!"
And we should really open up a Hot Dog 'N Handjobs franchise next to the Scientology center. We'll never be able to eat another hot dog without thinking of John Travolta's hungry hole, but at least we'll be rich!
Ian Somerhalder's Polaroid camera tells me that if he's going to take naked ass pictures of himself, he's going to do it old school so bitches can't hack into his phone and post his peen all over the internet. Damn you for being smart, Ian. - The Superficial
Something something Jessica Simpson's birth video something something - Towleroad
A Bill Nighy photo bomb is the best kind of photo bomb - Celebitchy
Where Lady CaCa gets most of her ideas from, which strangely enough is where I get my ideas from too (my own ass, not hers) - (site NSFW) Drunken Stepfather
Christie Brinkley's still got it - Hollywood Tuna
Mila Kunis is this week's Ryan Gosling - IDLYITW
Magnificent chichis: Kat Dennings has some - Popoholic
Is that a watch on LeAnn Rimes' wrist or a tracking device so the paparazzi can find her at all times? - ICYDK
I want to go to there - The Berry
If Duchess Kate wants to be on trend, she should flash her hip bone. Get with it, Kate! - Popsugar
Nothing says "wedding day luxury" like a Solo cup - Crunk + Disorderly
Say Something Nice About Backfattina: Well, the invisible straps are a nice homage to Courtney Stodden - OMG Blog
So this is why I was banned from entering DC city limits yesterday - Just Jared
Oh, GOOP, you only fly private which means that you paid those flight attendants to give that compliment - Videogum
Candice Swanepoel in Vogue Japan - Hollywood Rag
Five words: A Cloris Leachman camel toe - SOW
Pussy hiccups are the cutest kind of hiccups - Cityrag
Barbara Walters is a criminal - I'm Not Obsessed
I know. I know. It's Met Ball bukkake on Dlisted today, but this is hopefully my last post on this mess and I'm going out on a terrifying note by giving you things that do bumps in the night. While human hos at the ball sipped on calorie-free champagne, these vampires, zombies, charbroiled trolls and grandma witches sipped on calorie-free carbonated souls. If you put your ear to the screen, you can practically hear the screeches from a pristine young virgin running naked through the halls of the Met as these scary bitches chase after her. Where was Scooby-Doo and the rest of the Mystery, Inc. gang when hos needed them most?
Grab your crucifix, put your garlic bulb anal chain around your neck and get close to the Royal Court of the Death Eaters. In order: Mary-Kate Olsen (looking like the Snow White witch after the dwarves dropped that boulder on her), Anna Wintour, Ronnie Wood (with his toddler-aged girlfriend), Sarah Jessica Parker with Tan Mom's skin idol Valentino, Donatella Versace, Chupa Zoe and Lana Del Taco.
Whoring out your leg on the red carpet is so February. It's also about whoring out your hip bone. Model type Anja Rubik proved this last night at the Met Ball by flashing the hip bone that is so damn sharp she can stab the haters around her while doing the hip shimmy. From afar it looked like Anja was busting out some sweet moves, but she was really cutting tricks left and right. Bitch could poke out her tiny date's eye with that sharpened hip bone.
If you're planning on getting married sometime soon, do me a favor and please wear this work of pure sophistication to the ceremony. If you need a "something borrowed," I can lend you my favorite white lace ass patch.
Put down your binoculars, fellow disgusting pervs. I've zoomed in so you don't have to. Wave to it, because I think it's winking at us.
I would mourn the loss of Marc Jacobs' personal style by covering my face with my abuelita's funeral veil, but this has put me off black lace for a while. This is the fancy ball version of the "prep school 4th grader at Liberace's Thanksgiving pageant" mess that Marc wore in March. The memory of the Niña, the Pinta and the Santa María don't deserve this. I can take the shoes since they look like they were worn by the first settlers of Plymouth Cock and I can almost take the dress since it shows off his nipples, but I will not and cannot take those Fruit of the Loom boxers. Marc thinks he's being different, but this isn't different. This exact outfit was worn by a man whose trick's husband came home while they were just about to do each other in her grandma's bedroom. Dude grabbed one of grandma's favorite funeral dresses (without the lining) and grabbed the shoes she wore when she was a chorus member in her senior center's production of a musical based on the life of the Quaker Oats guy. This is an outfit you wear when you have no other choice.
Marc could've saved this look if he wore a matching black lace thong instead of those Kmart special chonies. Oh, Marc, you are not Sharon Stone at the Oscars and those white boxers aren't a t-shirt from The Gap. How dreadful.
There are a million pictures from last night's Met Ball and I'm sure you've seen them all, but let's do it again anyway. Here's more than a few with my ten second thoughts (keep the GONG handy):
Elizabeth Banks - I love it when hos make a dress using only materials from wallpaper books at Home Depot.
January Jones - Are those alien eye tits or stoned bee in need of some VISINE tits?
Karolina Kurkova - This is the reason why gold sequins is on the endangered species list.
Lea Michele - Lea usually looks like a Romanian male gymnast in drag to me and she still looks like a Romanian male gymnast in drag here, but at least she's not making sexyface.
Sofia Vergara - Was that dress made with the wings from a Rite-Aid fairy princess costume? And is that one of the White House crashers behind her?
ScarJo - That dress says "worn a million times before" and that hair says "I no own no combs."
Kristen Stewart - That 80s hooker mess looked a lot better when it was worn by one of The Misfits.
Squinty Zellweger - If Squinty is sick of dating only gay guys, she should wear a dress with arrows pointing to her vagina instead of away from it.
Amber Heard - The color of that lipstick and the color of that dress can't be friends.
Amy Poehler - WHY, AMY, WHY?!!!! It's like Black Swan suffocating in a Hefty bag.
Ivanka Trump - Nope.
Melania & Donald Trump - Melania looks like she just made a fart and Donald looks like he's in the process of making one. Please tell me that sometime during the night, Donald leaned his head on Melania's shoulders and her ice pick shoulder pads cut the dog butt from his head.
Christina Ricci - Bitch look like a knit Kleenex cozy with silk tissue coming out of it.
Ryan Seacrest and Julianne Hough - Midget Ken and Beard Barbie!
Eva Mendes - Why do I suddenly want candy corn and black licorice?
Kiki Dunst - HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! It's like a 1930s school marm who slaps kids with a ruler for sport.
Alicia Keys and Swizz Beatz - Yes, Alicia's crotch looks like the back of a full diaper, but that's the least her problems.
Marion Cotillard - No shade.
Florence Welch - Bitch looks like a flamenco angel Christmas tree topper and I'm kind of into it.
Jessica Biel and Justin Timberlake - Fix your hem, ho!
Carey Mulligan - I just want to put her on a Christmas tree branch right under Florence.
Paula Patton - No shade.
RiRi - RiRi felt uncomfortable and uneasy all night until she realized that it's because you can't see her nipples or the print of her coochie lips. Being so covered made RiRi feel so naked.
And finally....TOM BRADY'S HAIR:
Tom and Jizz need to stop trying to make him the David Beckham of American football. Dude does not have the face to be edgy. It looks like he gets his hair gel from a dick. It's very There's Something About Derpy.
Courtney Love talked to Grub Street about food (yeah, I don't know either) and said that chocolate is too average for her and she's traded mainlining heroin for mainlining sugar at 4 in the morning. Courtney also dropped a dingle that you can slip right into the "That's Our GOOP!" file. Courtney is trying to get back into acting and when she told her friend Fishsticks Paltrow this, she was met with a judgmental look down and some advice wrapped in organic bitchiness:
Sometimes I forget to eat. Right now I'm 125 pounds and five foot, eleven inches, but my "rock weight" was 160. I think I'm a sexy beast at 160, but Gwyneth is the one who told me that if you want to act, and I do want to get back to acting, "You are your own advertisement."
Oh, and the funny thing is Courtney lost some chunk on a fish sticks and lemon water diet.
I once lost a ton of weight from a fish-sticks-and-lemon-water diet. That's how I started my own band; I had to lose all that weight first, apparently. Anyway, I love lemon water; it's the key to life.
I'm pretty sure "fish sticks" and "lemon water" is code for breaded heroin needles and meth pipe water. My idea of a Fishsticks diet is reading GOOP until I barf up everything but my stomach lining.
Fishy is right about the "own advertisement" thing. I mean, she's obviously a walking advertisement for pretentious cunts and she does it so well. But Fishy needs to stop trying to change Courtney. Courtney is a stumbling advertisement for sloppy, crazy, delusional messes and if she changed herself who will sloppy, crazy, delusional messes look up to? Don't make them look up to White Oprah. That's just cruel...even for Fishsticks.
Here's Fishy looking like Judy Jetson as a slutty nurse at the Met Ball last night. That weeping side-tit tells me she's advertising bras or Cisco Adler's saggy nutacks. Unfortunately, Courtney didn't show up to the Met Ball last night, because she got into a fight with her dress on Twitter. No, Court's dress isn't on Twitter, but don't tell her that. But Court was there in cracked out spirit thanks to Cocoa Rocha (who did not do Elizabeth Taylor's old suit justice) and Chloe Sevigny.
If you need a quick response to the feathered fuckery gown that Beyonce wore to the Met Gala last night, please direct yourself to the look on the lady in black's face. It might best express your feelings about this.
Last night was that time of year when fashion people and celebrities from A to the gutter gathered at the ho stroll in front of The Met to out-WTF each other. Everybody should've stayed home in their Pajama Jeans when Beyonce was announced as a guest, because how can you outdo the queen of outdoing bitches? If fashion was an In-N-Out drive-thru, Beyonce would order 10 extra patties, 6 extra buns, all the cheeses in the refrigerator, the entire condiments bar, every vegetable they've got and the earrings the cashier is wearing. She'd get it animal style too. ALL animals. Bitch puts the EXTRA in extra. If the dress isn't so special that a handler wearing a lift belt has to straighten out the train every 2 seconds, Beyonce won't even entertain the idea of putting it on her body.
Somebody on Today this morning said that Beyonce was one of the last stars to arrive. DUH. Do you really think Beyonce is going to pose amongst the lesser thans? I bet that right before she arrived, her security team ran down the red carpet and tased any trick who got in their way. They cleared that shit for their "queen." They straight up dropped a defibrillator on the carpet.
I'm a tacky bitch, so I actually like this dress from Givenchy's LOOK AT MOI label. It looks like a truck carrying raver ostriches crashed into a Las Vegas floor show. That train is making the Fraggles weep today, because it looks like Beyonce is dragging carcasses of their own behind her. What did Beyonce do with that train when she got inside, anyway? Did she throw it over her head and wear it like a hood? Did she pass it between her legs and shove it up into the bodice so it looked like she was pregnant with a Muppet? I really hope that once inside, somebody yanked that train and cackled as that ho tumbled backwards. And I hope that someone was Basement "It Wasn't Me" Baby.
Attention all GOOP haters of the world, we have lost one of our own. Legendary children's book author, illustrator and King of All Wild Things (not these kind of wild things, though) Maurice Sendak passed away at 3 this morning at a hospital in Connecticut. Maurice was 83. Maurice's partner of 50 years, Eugene Glynn, passed away in 2007. They're now having a wild rumpus together up in heaven.
Children, adults and everybody in between will read Maurice's words for as long as this planet exists thanks to his books Where the Wild Things Are, In the Night Kitchen and Seven Little Monsters. Maurice also drew the illustrations for dozens of books, produced TV shows and designed for several ballet and opera productions. Maurice did it all. I'll mostly remember Maurice for telling it like it is. You could always count on Maurice to give us his non-sugar-coated truth, mostly recently on The Colbert Report, which was a priceless jewel of an interview.
"I like [children] as few as far between as adults. Maybe a bit more, because I really don't like adults at all." - Maurice Sendak
Rest in peace, Maurice :(
After I tucked myself into bed last night, I read the entire not-so-happy-ending massage lawsuit thrown at John Travolta by an unnamed masseur, and if you haven't already done so, you should do so tonight. Push away your laminated copy of 50 Shades of Mom Cream and get into this bedtime story. Yes, your nightmares will be haunted by a wig-wearing bloated pasty walrus waving his 8-inch dick of doom at you, but sometimes you have to suffer for foolery.
What we already know is that a masseur claims that on January 16, 2012, the Duchess of Scientology found the masseur's ad online and ordered a massage. During the massage, John allegedly molested the masseur's crotch, offered to squeeze the masseur's peen and went on a crazed rant about how gay Jews rule Hollywood before he jacked himself off in front of the masseur. If you switched the dude masseur with a chick, it would be like a regular night at Mel Gibson's house. But the fuckery is truly in the details and just like we did last night, let's dissect those!
Travolta had chocolate cake wrappers on the floor his SUV.
Believability: 0 out of 10 Laughing Tommy Girls. The less Tommy cackles, the truer it is!
Isn't chocolate an aphrodisiac? Well, so is downing Ding Dongs in an SUV with his homegirl Kirstie Alley while kiki-ing about the masseur dick he's hoping to wrap his Scientolohole around.
Travolta's personal chef was in the bungalow making hamburgers during the first hour of the massage and left once he was ready to get down with the masseur.
Believability: 0 out of 10 Laughing Tommy Girls
Nothing gets Johnny in the mood for love like the scent of sizzling burger grease. That's why bitch buys his poppers at Carl's Jr.
Travolta's peen is "roughly" 8 inches long.
Believability: 5 out of 10 Laughing Tommy Girls
I'd rather cover my bedroom ceiling with pictures of prolapsed rectums than think about Johnny's dick situation, but I can sort of believe this. I mean, most e-meters double as penis pumps, right?
Travolta's pubic hairy is "wiry" and "unkempt."
Believability: 10 out of 10 Laughing Tommy Girls
Can I get a BITCH, PLEASE? Johnny is definitely as smooth as an armadillo's ass down there. When Johnny's eating Ding Dongs and sniffing burger fumes in a bottle while fapping, the last thing he wants to do is meticulously pick out chocolate cake crumbs from his dick bush. Besides, any hair that grows down there, he quickly plucks out and glues to the top of his head.
Travolta told the masseur that he's not even gay and hates the taste of cum.
Believability: 10 out of 10 Laughing Tommy Girls
Tommy Girl and the other queens at the Scientology glory hole don't call Johnny "L. Ron Cumdumpster" for nothing!
Travolta told the masseur that the high-class in this world prefer same-sex fucking, because the sex is the best you'll ever experience.
Believability: 9 out of 10 Laughing Tommy Girls
That sounds more like something GOOP would say if she came out as a lesbian. But I like it. The next time I get hate mail saying that man-on-man ass sex is disgusting, I'll let them know that they only find it disgusting because they are low-class trash. Only the high-class appreciates man-on-man ass sex, hunty.
Travolta told the masseur that there was a "starlet" staying in the hotel who was looking for some DP (double penetration) action. Travolta promised they could have her later, but they had to get in-sync first by sexing on each other.
Believability: 10 out of 10 Laughing Tommy Girls
Was Lindsay Lohan staying at The Beverly Hills Hotel that day? NO! I'm joking. This is a falsity, because Johnny would never make a promise he can't fuck and that promise involved vagina.
Travolta made the masseur say something nice about him as he jacked off.
Believability: 6 out of 10 Laughing Tommy Girls
This is some terrifying Stuart Smalley shit. What do you say if Johnny is doing sex to himself in front of you and asks you for a compliment? When you're watching Johnny do himself, I'm sure the part of your brain that produces positive thoughts shuts down and quits your ass. I guess I'd tell him that he smells like Ding Dongs and hamburgers. That's TWO nices!
John Travolta has already denied all of this and says he wasn't even in L.A. on January 16th. John claims he has proof of this and is planning to pull his fist out of an escort's ass to fight this lawsuit. After reading this mess of a lawsuit, the only stuff I really believe is the crap about the chocolate cake wrappers and the full-time hamburger maker. But I'm sure the Scientology engineers still worked through the night making a sex tape using a John Travolta hologram and a Kelly Preston hologram. Johnny couldn't have molested that masseur, because he, a heterosexual man, was too busy having heterosexual sex with his heterosexual wife.