During a cold night recently, Detective La Toya made Janet Jackson a Hot Toddy, sat her down in a leather armchair in front of a roaring fire, and told her that she conducted a thorough investigation on their brother's death, which revealed that he was killed by the hands of Dr. Conrad Murray! A wolf howled, a bolt of lightning struck the night and the truth came crashing down on Janet. In that moment, Janet not only realized that La Toya is the second coming of Sherlock Holmes, but suddenly everything made sense.

In an interview with ABC News, Janet echoes La Toya's statement that Dr. Con killed their brother, "He was the one who was administering. I think he should be responsible." Janet believes that he should never be able to practice medicine again.

Dr. Con has admitted to administering the anesthetic propofol, but he seems to think that he didn't kill Michael.

Dr. Con just needs to give it up already. You can run, you can hide, but you can't escape Detective La Toya!

If Amy Wino doesn't visit THE CLINIC (dun dun dun) at least a few times a month, the staff starts to get a little worried that they might lose their jobs. Lucky for them, Wino dropped in last night after she had a bad reaction from mixing medications.

The Mirror reports that Wino got the ills after she mixed over-the-counter cough medication with some shit she was already taking. A source said, "Amy took over-the-counter stuff for a cold but it didn't agree with medication she takes for her on-going recovery. A doctor came to the house and advised her to go the hospital to make sure she was all right. She was due to stay the night."

You would think that Wino's body is already used to every kind of drug in all combinations, so something in the milk ain't clean about this. It's not like she swallowed a vitamin or licked a clean piece of lettuce. My guess is that Wino is really in the hospital to get a fix of her latest addiction: plastic surgery. Don't widen your eyes if you see Wino strolling out of there with a new ass like a Care Bear or a nose like a Jackson.

Here's Wino trolling around London on Saturday night, just a few hours before she checked into the hospital.

Enrique Iglesias once joked that he was hung like a baby horsefly. We've never gotten proof that this isn't the case....until now! In Enrique's never-before-seen video from 2000 for the Bruce Springsteen cover "Sad Eyes," he unveils his 12-foot long dick that is made entirely of chrome! I'd still take a ride on Enrique's stripper dick, even if it gave my ass iron poisoning. Wouldn't be the first time.

It's best if you watch this Skinemax-approved porn video at the 3:00 mark with the sound off, sitting on your dryer, with a tub of baby wipes near you, three types of lotion at your side, a clothespin on each nipple an all the lights off.

Your body moles may jizz. And now I just killed the mood by painting that image.

via Tabloid Prodigy

Michael Lohan might have been the only bitch who truly enjoyed I Know Who Killed Me. He might have enjoyed it a little tooooo much if this story about him is true. Warning: Sucioness ahead.

Elliot Osher, the former owner of Scores strip club in NYC, tells Rush & Molloy that Michael Lohan once ordered up a LiLo look-alike to dance for him . Elliot said, "Lindsay Lohan's father once sat down and described the kind of dancer he was looking for. We sent some girls over. Funny, they all seemed to look like Lindsay."

Michael immediately queefed on Elliot's accusations, "No girls danced for me. The last thing I'd want to see is a girl who looked like Lindsay. I don't even look at the magazines where she's done some risqué photos."

But Elliot stands by his claim, "Maybe he just doesn't remember. The next week, Lindsay wanted to meet the girls who'd danced for her dad."

If Michael waits a few months, he can probably get the real thing to dance for him at the Spearmint Rhino during the morning shift. Just looking at a picture of Michael Lohan makes me want to call a hotline for help, so this rumor doesn't really surprise me. This is why you can never trust a tampon in a mesh shirt!

Seriously, the Lohan fuckery must come to an end. It's all fun and games until someone gets hurt. And by "someone," I mean our souls and appetites.

Here's LiLo looking like the picture of sobriety while showing up to a house party at 4:30 in the morning. Don't worry, she was there for sunrise bible study.

St. Angie and Billy Goat Brad are joo-ree designers now. The two are putting out a collection of snake joo-ree through Asprey called "The Protector." WWD reports that they have been working on this shit for a year and it will be available at Asprey stores this week. Prices start at $525 and all proceeds will go to Education Partnership for Children of Conflict.

The snake design is based on St. Angie's slithery clitoris which has been known to strike at the ballsacks of mere mortal men. That is the official description from Asprey.

The collection features black diamond rings, diamond bracelets, an egg cup, a baby spoon and a tooth box. If you prefer cocaine instead of babies, the spoon, cup and box will also be of use to you. And don't worry, the diamonds are conflict-free, because they were made using the tears of angels and God's saliva.

Oh, and Lucius Malfoy has a question. He wants to know if they plan on making a cock-ring version in the near future?

It was just another day on the streets of Downtown Los Angeles on Sunday when a chorus of Mad Max-rejects, tranny crack whores, blonde children, goth strippers, Hot Topic stock room workers, Miami day-shift hustlers and extras from the gay porn version of 300 was spotted on their way to shoot Glamberace's video for "For Your Entertainment." I'm pretty sure the inspiration for this video was Tommy Girl's afternoon wet dream.

Two weeks ago, if you told me that Glamberace's video would feature a dude with rubber thimbles over his nipples, I'd believe you and tell you to pass the lube. I know Glamberace is trying to make hos clutch their chest and blush like Anderson Cooper in a titty bar, but he's going about it the wrong way. If he wants his video to be bizarre and shocking, he should just film a sober Paula Abdul.

This explains why Octomom's old man has been going around singing,'She cums in colours everywhere.' - The Hoople

Runners-up:

You do NOT want to see the custom peanut m&m dispensers. Trust me. - Skinnymalinky

Leonardo da Vinci in his crystal meth period. - Dennerietskie

Everyone's skin reacts differently to Sevin Nyne. - OurMissC

via Break

Dr. Brooke Magnanti, the real-life Belle de Jour.

In an interview with the Sunday Times, Dr. Brooke Magnanti has come out of the closet as former high-class call girl turned blogger Belle de Jour. Belle de Jour's blog led to a series of books, which became a TV series called Secret Diary of a Call Girl starring Billie Piper.

34-year-old Dr. Magnanti is now a fancy scientist who specializes in developmental neurotoxicology and cancer epidemiology. Up until a month ago, only six people knew that she used to peddle her pussy out for $600 an hour. Not even her own agent knew.

She decided to reveal herself after six years of living in secret, because she was afraid that her skeezy ex-boyfriend was going to sell the story to a tabloid. She said, "It feels so much better on this side. Not to have to tell lies, hide things from the people I care about. To be able to defend what my experience of sex work is like to all the skeptics and doubters."

Dr. Magnanti worked as a vagina vendor from 2003 to 2004 while she finished getting her PhD in smart people stuff.

And now, when people ask her what she does for a living, she can proudly say, "I'm a former high-class call girl turned scientist." Sigh. I wish I could tell people that and mean it. Everything sounds better with "former high-class call girl" before it.

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The lucky bitch claims he received a special peck from Prince Hot Ginge. That explains why he has that third-degree burn mark on his cheek. It's where PHG planted his flaming hot lips. You know I've got it bad for PHG when I would actually consider licking that dude's cheek completely sober. I would even ignore his awesome popped collar. Ring the crazy alarm.

21-year-old Rocky Bennett tells the News of the World that he was out boozing at Liquid night club when he noticed royalty was in his midst. Rocky must have been drunker than Noah Cyrus on Christmas morning, because he strolled up to Prince Hot Ginge and offered him a proposition everyone would refuse. Rocky said, "I went up to him and told him I would love to buy him a drink - if he gave me a kiss, Harry just burst out laughing, threw his arms around me and kissed me on the left cheek. I'm not going to wash my face for a month now! It was the best moment of my life. I just burst into tears, he's so down to earth."

Now, I'm not calling the adorable Cornish gayme hen a liar, but if Prince Hot Ginge even looked my way, I'd do more than burst into tears. My loins would burst into FLAMES! I would be serving up No-No Flambé. It would be like Firestarter stared down my genitals. It would be a back, front and side draft. You get the terrifying picture. Unfortunately.

When Rocky left the club, he spotted a beautiful image that I thought only existed in the museum of my dreams. Rocky said, "Afterwards we saw him in the McDonald's across the road. Harry ordered a quarterpounder meal with a coke - I think he wanted to sober up."