Tom Daley lets it be known that yes, he made a quick stop in BiVille, but he’s strictly dickly now – Towleroad
Kate Hudson and her on-and-off again piece Matt Bellamy consciously couple on the beach in a totally natural non-photo-op that didn’t take two publicists and a body language coordinator two hours to set up – Lainey Gossip
Lady CaCa put her hands out for Uncle Terry and strangely enough he didn’t lay his nuts in them – Drunken Stepfather
Gappy Paradis joins ScarJo in The Tricks Dumb Enough To Slobber About Woody Allen To The Media club – Celebitchy
Selena Gomez wants to switch places with Orlando Bloom’s kid – The Superficial
The malnourished llama is getting married this weekend – Reality Tea
FYI: John Mayer wore your abuelita’s winter sweater for a bro date with Andy Cohen (see: pic 19) – The Berry
I still don’t know how I feel about Natalie Dormer’s Dr. Kimberly Shaw hair – Popoholic
CoCo + pink dildos = elegance redefined – Hollywood Tuna
The Biggest Loser winner gained 20 pounds, so everyone who was throwing cheeseburgers at her can throw those cheeseburgers at me now. Thank you. – Jezebel
Noooope, still the worst – Pajiba
Awwww, it’s warms my no-heart seeing that Courteney Cox found love with a fellow wax figure – ICYDK
When your need for a check beats your need to keep sane by staying away from crazy ass Courtney Love – IDLYITW
My vote for David Letterman’s replacement goes to Grumpy Cat, Funky Dineva or the Rhubarb Lady – Just Jared
It’s one of those days when you just need a few servings of Cam Gigandet’s nalgas – OMG Blog
Maria Sharapova was thisclose to giving the paps a view of her sharapoon – Moe Jackson
BREAKING: James Franco’s peen is as small as his ego is huge – Kenneth in the (212)
John Mayer boned Kelly Monaco – Celebslam
Poor Rachel Zoe. She goes to SXSW in Austin, gets drunk in a bar, passes out and then wakes up in a cage in some hillbilly’s front yard. FREE CHUPA!
KABC (via TMZ) in Los Angeles decided to take their asses to Ratcliffe, a small town in Texas, to talk to Jackie Stock and Arlen Parma, two hillbillies who think they caught the mythical chupacabra. The animal was wandering around their house on Sunday night and when Jackie’s husband told her to come look at it, she said to him, “Bubba, that looks like a baby chupacabra.” Before you even started reading this, you knew it was going to be about two hillbillies and you knew one of them would have the nickname Bubba.
Arlen said that he’s been hunting coons for 20 years and he’s never seen an animal like that. Everybody in their town thinks these messes actually caught the goat-killing chupacabra. But an “animal expert” tells KABC that he thinks the animal is either some kind of dog with mange, you know because dogs eat corn like they’ve got people hands.
KABC definitely should’ve gone to Ratcliffe, but they’re missing the real story. THIS is the real story:
The real story here is that KABC caught Madame Razz without her mask hat on!
Hopefully, the ASPCA rescues that caged raccoon with mange and then rescues that tortured silky chicken on ole’ girl’s head.
In honor of #TBT (or ‘Throw Back That Turd-sday’, as I like to call it) Katy Perry released the artwork for her next single “Birthday” on Twitter this afternoon, and sweet sassy jesus, what a damn mess. This isn’t low-budget, this is no-budget. This is what you get when you place a Craigslist ad looking for a graphic designer to create album cover and the only reply you get is from am1rR@vizbiz.guh telling you he can do it in 1 hour for a Chipotle gift card. Unless the point of this was to look like someone’s dad made it in his Photo Editing for Dummies night school class at the Y, in which case you still failed, because it’s missing Confused Clipart Stickman.
The only thing that gets a sincere thumbs up from me is the shining star of this photoshop disaster, Katy’s sassy lil’ Ginger sister, Angela. Naomi who? Cindy what? Step aside bitches, because we’ve found the 90s greatest supermodel. That face! That little clenched fist expertly tucked under her chin! The way she’s staring at you as if she’s thinking ‘Watch your ass, Stephanie Tanner, I’m coming for you‘! You can’t learn that at Barbizon.
Pic: Katy Perry
All the female interns at CBS can come out of their hiding places. It’s safe now! Variety and everybody else on Earth reports that during the taping of his show tonight, David Letterman announced that he will end his 22-year-run on late night and retire in 2015. It’s the end of an era! As Jay Leno shuffled over to CBS to put in a job application, Letterman’s rep farted up this statement:
“The man who owns this network, Leslie Moonves, he and I have had a relationship for years and years and years, and we have had this conversation in the past, and we agreed that we would work together on this circumstance and the timing of this circumstance. And I phoned him just before the program, and I said ‘Leslie, it’s been great, you’ve been great, and the network has been great, but I’m retiring.’
I just want to reiterate my thanks for the support from the network, all of the people who have worked here, all of the people in the theater, all the people on the staff, everybody at home, thank you very much. What this means now, is that Paul and I can be married.
We don’t have the timetable for this precisely down – I think it will be at least a year or so, but sometime in the not too distant future, 2015 for the love of God, in fact, Paul and I will be wrapping things up.”
I hope it ends with Letterman’s eyes melting out of his sockets as Courtney Love gives him a farewell flash of her crackie nips and Madge says “FUCK FUCK FUCK” into his face. Speaking of eyeballs, you should prepare yours, because sometime next year we may see these words: Late Show with….Chelsea Handler!
UPDATE: And here’s the video of Letterman announcing he’s out of that bitch next year.
Coming from someone who moved a dude into her house after knowing him for 2 hours and had the date of their wedding tattooed on the back of her neck, I’d say that’s a correct statement.
The May issue of Sorority Newz (aka Cosmopolitan) featuring Kaley Glencoco is still days away from being released to the public, and yet 99.999% of it has already leaked online, probably by Kaley herself. And here’s one more fact about the Jennifer Aniston for a dumber generation (that really says a lot) that you didn’t know before. According to Entertainment Tonight, Kaley admitted to Cosmo that when she was 18 years old, she decided to go under the knife and have two sides of a Pogo Ball inserted into her chest, an act she now considers to be the best decision she ever made. Really Kaley? Even better than your decision to reach for the stunt queen stars with a PR showmance?!?
She doesn’t elaborate on why she decided to get tittays, but I’ll guess/assume it was for work, since it’s practically a requirement in Hollywood to be injected with some kind of clear chemical, whether it be titty juice, Botox, or syringes filled with vodka (a procedure known as The Lohan). And I sort of like that she’s not ashamed of her decision to get a pair of bought-and-paid-for double Ds at 18. I wish I was proud of any decision I made at 18; unfortunately, the best I can come up with is that I’m proud I didn’t go through with legally changing the spelling of my name to Ali’sinn (oh, but I came so dangerously close).
Sure, you can be jealous of Mimi for having a savings account that looks like the inside of Scrooge McDuck’s gold vault and for having the largest collection of Hello Kitty shit outside of Asia, but there’s a real reason to be jealous of the rainbow butterfly Wuzzle duchess. The name “Kardashian” has never passed through the unicorn queef bubble she lives in. The name “Kim Kardashian” is as foreign to Mimi as the word “no” is.
Mimi’s well-trained toy husband Nick Cannon was on Howard Stern yesterday whoring out his latest little project to remind people once again that he has jobs outside of being Mr. Mariah Carey (uh huh) and Howard brought up Kim Katrashian’s name. Howard said that Mimi was upset that Nick once stuck it in Kim’s 2nd Street Tunnel pussy, but Nick says that isn’t so, because she knows Kim as well as she knows JLo. via UsWeekly
“You know, I don’t think so, no. ‘Cause honestly, my wife, she don’t even know who Kim Kardashian is. She doesn’t pay attention to that. I think it was more about the fact…[that I spent] time on my past.”
You might’ve thrown a “Wuzzle,please” look at that statement since all of us can’t turn our heads without our cheeks brushing up against Kim’s greasy silicone factory of an ass and Mimi would make Nick throw shade so she doesn’t have to, but I actually believe this. Because here’s a comprehensive and accurate list of the people that Mariah Carey doesn’t know.
1. Everyone not named Mariah Carey. The end.
Mimi probably doesn’t even know who Nick Cannon is most of the time. Her life is like that 50 First Dates movie. Every morning, she wakes up, looks at Nick likes he’s a stranger and after he explains to her who he is, she says, “oh,” before staring at herself in the mirror above her bed for two hours.
And here’s Mimi posing with some tea while leaving Terry Richardson‘s studio in NYC last night. Mimi is truly a refined lady, because she made sure to wipe Uncle Terry’s jizz off of her glasses with that tissue paper before she came out to pose for those paps.
America is finally, finally tackling the real problem that effects this nation of upstanding morals! We must do whatever we can to keep out the rich British women who have admitted to snorting that Lohan powder. They are a threat and if we let them in, they’ll do of all of our coke and then what will our politicians snort to get them through all those meetings?
The Daily Mail says that on Sunday morning, Nigella Lawson tried to get onto a British Airways flight from Heathrow in London to LAX in Los Angeles. Nigella was supposedly coming to L.A. for vacation. Nigella checked in and went through security, but when she got to the gate, she was told to turn her ass around and go home. I’m sure her shit bag of an ex-husband Charles Saatchi (who probably had something to do with this mess) cackled into the sky when that happened. The Daily Mail says that they don’t know the exact reason for why Nigella was blocked from coming to the US, but they think it has everything to do with her admitting in court that she did the bad shit a few times and smoked weed. Amy Winehouse was blocked from entering the US for getting arrested for drugs.
Nigella registered online to get into the US and she answered NO to the questions, “Have you ever been convicted of offenses including taking illegal drugs.” Nigella was never charged by Scotland yard for admitting she did coke. But the US can still ban a bitch for admitting to doing drugs. Nigella is going to fight the ban, because if she can’t come to the US, she’ll lose her job on The Taste which shoots in L.A. Nigella’s spokeswhore refused to say anything about this and a rep for Homeland Security wouldn’t confirm that she’s banned, but the rep did say that foreigners that are labeled as “inadmissible” can apply for a waiver:
In general, an alien found inadmissible will need a waiver of inadmissibility. Depending on the basis of their refusal they may be eligible to apply in advance of travel for a temporary waiver of inadmissibility. The waiver application process can be lengthy.
While Nigella was told she couldn’t come to the US, because she’s a coke-snorting terrorist threat, the Canadian Crisco ball of crack that is Rob Ford twirled onto a flight to the US on a cloud of crack smoke and pussy fumes. I mean, I get that we as a country need to protect our drugs, because we only have so many of them and we need them to get through life, but banning Nigella Lawson after we let Rob Ford in? The official who came up with those priorities was smoking the wrong shit, which was probably provided by Rob Ford. Homeland Security needs to stop wasting their time keeping non-threats like Nigella Lawson out of the US and start using their time wisely by keeping out the real threat to the US: The Lesbeaver. Fight the real enemy!
Better make some room at the boardroom table of the Tee Hee, What’s Feminism? Association (their mission statement is a wink and a sexy giggle), because it looks like we’ve got a new member! Following in the footsteps of other real-life Malibu Stacy dolls, such as Lady Gaga and Mayan Riviera, Kirsten Dunst has come forward in an interview with Harper’s Bazaar UK to explain what she thinks makes for a successful relationship:
“I feel like the feminine has been a little undervalued. We all have to get our own jobs and make our own money, but staying at home, nurturing, being the mother, cooking—it’s a valuable thing my mom created. And sometimes, you need your knight in shining armor. I’m sorry. You need a man to be a man and a woman to be a woman. That’s why relationships work.”
Daywalker, PLEASE have several seats. Relationships work when you find that very special someone who doesn’t make you constantly roll your eyes or drive you to drink the cheap shit, and it has nothing to do with putting on a pair of heels and June Cleaver-ing around the house with a plate of cookies. So, no thank you. I’ll keep being me. For example: I’m really good at fixing shit and using tools (ie. what Kirsten would consider “eww…man work”). But apparently, I’ll never find my knight in shining armor because I’m not “being a woman”. I can re-wire a light socket and assemble anything from IKEA in less than 10 minutes without instructions, but it doesn’t matter because I don’t have a husband to open my pickle jars for me. Boo + hoo.
And I guess this means anyone in a same-sex relationship is totally fucked then. Are you a butch lesbian in a relationship with another butch lesbian? Bad news: one of you is going to have to cut up your Home Depot rewards card and trade in your flannel and become a rose-scented Stepford Wife, otherwise your relationship is DOOMED!
Here’s more of Kiki in Harper’s Bazaar UK dressed like a fairytale princess who’s thinking about all the different pot roasts she plans on cooking for her hubby:
No, Vincent Kartheiser wasn’t in the middle of being prepared for a lobotomy when an earthquake happened and the surgical team had to abort, drop the clippers and run out of the building. Rory Gilmore’s future husband (Wait, are those hos still engaged?) is a dedicated method actor who shaves his hairline back and gains some chunk to play It’s Pat’s equally as awkward son Pete Campbell on Mad Men. Dedication to your work IS making your hairline look like a Kardashian’s 5 o’clock butt stubble.
Vincent showed up to the premiere party for Mad Men’s 7th season looking like he got Dollar Tree hair plugs put it in at the same back alley plastic surgeon van where Lil Kim gets her baby dick nose shaved off. He looks like a derpy Friar Tuck which is saying a lot, because Friar Tuck is already at maximum derp. Vincent’s head looks like a factory-defected Chia Pet. There’s a method to his madness, though. Vincent told reporters a couple of years ago that he has always imagined Pete Campbell as having a receding hairline so he shaves his hairline, and after shooting is done he has to walk around looking like John Travolta in a shifted wig before his hairline grows back. Vincent probably thinks he’s the Daniel Day-Lewis of cable and deserves every Emmy for going all the way. But he needs to get over himself, because he’s not the greatest method actor of Mad Men. January Jones is!
January Jones never EVER gets out of character. When the cameras are on, she’s in character as Betty Draper. When the cameras turn off, she’s in character as Betty Draper. When she goes home after playing an ice cold queen all day, she stays in character. She stays in complete character when she’s smoking a cigarette while watching her kid poke at the half-frozen microwave dinner she didn’t cook all the way. She stays in character when her kid is crying and she rolls her eyes while turning up the TV louder to drown out his wails. She stays in complete character when she pisses out a piss popsicle into the toilet. January Jones was in character as Betty Draper before she was cast as Betty Draper and she’ll stay in character as Betty Draper for the rest of her life. So Vincent K and his method hairline shouldn’t feel so goddamn special.
Here’s more of the cast of Mad Men (including Christina Hendrick’s chichis and Jon Hamm sans the Hammaconda) at last night’s premiere party.
I thought I’d be strong enough to handle this, but I was so wrong. Immediately after I saw this picture of my beautiful earth angel Bruce Jenner smiling and holding hands with that morally bankrupt Botox dumpster Pimp Mama Kris - a she-devil I was certain he was free from the clutches of, mind you – I started cycling through the Kübler-Ross model of 5 stages of grief. At first I was in denial (“He’s just escorting a Michael Jackson impersonator through the airport!”), then anger (I broke every dish, glass, and crystal unicorn in my home, and lit a box of Wheaties on fire), bargaining (“Do you want me to carve up my nose into a silly putty penis?? I’ll do it! I’ll do anything to keep you from returning to that evil hag!”), followed by depression (listening to this song on repeat while weeping loudly on the kitchen floor).
But I finally reached acceptance. I’m a strong woman who can get over the hurt Juicy Brucie has caused. Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right? Oh for fucks sakes, who am I kidding? I’m still at anger and depression. As of right now, I’m typing with one hand and tearing up my favorite pin-ups of Brucie while screaming the lyrics to “I Can’t Make You Love Me” at full-volume. Somebody PLEASE send the following to my apartment: 2 Fudgie the Whale cakes, 10 therapy dogs (puppies pls), and Kelly Clarkson to sing “Stronger”. It’s going to be a long night.
Here’s more of that cold heartless bitch Brucie Jenner joyfully prancing around with Satan’s most sickening slut (no, literally; Satan can barely get through a blow job without barfing all over her head) at LAX. Trailing closely behind, of course, is Kash Kow Kim, looking the definition of tacky and cheap, along with The No-Talent Trio: Khloe-tron, The Model One, and notoriously good hitter Marla Hooch: