Rapper Christ Bearer, Who’s Affiliated With Wu-Tang Clan, Cut Off His Peen Before Jumping Off Of A Balcony
And now here’s a giant side of WTF and a giant side of SAD to go with your lunch, which I’m hoping isn’t a kielbasa sandwich….
TMZ says that Wu-Tang affiliated rapper Christ Bearer (government name: Andre Johnson) was taken to Cedars-Sinai in L.A. early this morning after he Lorena Bobbitt’d himself and jumped off of a second story balcony in North Hollywood. The cops are treating it as a suicide attempt. A police source told TMZ that after someone called 911, they showed up to the apartment building and found Andre lying on the sidewalk in a bad way. Andre is currently laid up in the hospital in critical condition. TMZ also let it be know that the status of his peen is not known at this time.
Christ Bearer is in the rap duo Northstar, which was discovered by RZA in 1998, and is also in other Wu Tang-affiliated groups. Members of one of the groups tell TMZ that they live in the same building as Christ Bearer. They say that out of nowhere, Christ Bearer cut off his dick and then jumped off of the balcony without warning. They say that he wasn’t on any kind of drugs that would cause him to do that and by the time they got downstairs he was running around screaming incoherently.
Yes, my brain is still shivering with the WHATTHEFUCKS and I do not appreciate your Johnson jokes at this time. I hardly leave my house, but when I do I always wish that a dick will fall on my head. I’m not going to make that wish anymore.
Every dude in Hollywood who likes to get their prostates poked by a strap-on operated by a skinny ass model just crossed Heidi Klum’s name off of their list of potential pieces, because her strap-on game is whack. Not bending her piece over: – 100 points! Not pulling her piece’s hair: – 200 points! Yes, tapping his nip with her nail gets her 20 points, but it’s still not enough. Bitch needs strap-on training from Bland Eggs.
27-year-old art dealer and cougar magnet Vito Schnabel was getting on Demi Moore’s cougar cooch a little over a year ago and now he’s jumping on Heidi Klum’s 40-year-old titty sacks. Before Vito was boning Demi, he was doing Elle McPherson. Vito is certified cougar meat. So either the famous cougars just love a 20-something piece who knows his art and kind of looks like the human version of Spuds MacKenzie or Vito’s got a strong dick that can fuck the pre-menopause out of anyone.
Here’s a few more NSFW pictures of Heidi bringing some Vitamin D to her nips while hanging around with her new piece in Tulum, Mexico.
Pics: Pacific Coast News
HAHAHAHA! Good one, Tori Spelling. I almost believed you, until I heard the familiar sound of the CelebraTori Money Counting Machine in the background.
Immediately after the release of the trailer for True Tori, Tori and Dean “The Deaner” McDermott’s reality shit-show about their crumbling marriage, anyone with at least half a working brain cell (that rules out The Deaner) knew that it was nothing more than a flimsy excuse to #getmoneybitch. Except that according to People, that’s just not true! Tori isn’t doing it for the cash (are you sure you spoke to the right Tori?) but as a way to punish the Deaner for being a useless skank-humping shitbag:
“The decision to do this show is not coming from someone who is in a solid, good place. Tori is very, very upset and angry,” a longtime friend of Spelling’s says. “It’s just too raw and personal. There’s too much pain and it’s too private.”
Adds the source: “A part of her wants to completely humiliate him and make him suffer in front of millions of people. She wants to have some sort of justice. She wants him to truly feel the pain of what he did to her.”
And because the only thing the Deaner loves more than that sweet, sweet out-of-state pussy is money, he’s taking all the shit Tori is piling on him with a half-smile and a squinty-eyed single tear trickling down his face, even going so far as to tell Tori: “My life means nothing if you’re not in it.” Really? The Deaner said that? I don’t believe it. I think what the Deaner meant to say was this:
“Tori, I need to know…what’s crappenin’ with us? What’s crappenin’ with our marriage? I went to rehab like you asked me to, and I barely fucked any strange while I was there (and I almost always pulled out!). I swear on Candi Spelling’s bank account that I’m committed to our marriage. What do you say, Tori…will you keep it sleazy with me? ” …at which point I start pretending to cry. What do you think, Hooters girls? Sounds good, right? Awesome! The Deaner is back in business! Now who’s ready to let me eat chicken wings off their tits?? Shasta, I’m looking in your direction!”
Pic: Flame Flynet
After Paul Walker died, the producers of the Fast & Furious movies said that the 7th movie will go on, because it’s what he would’ve wanted and they want to pay tribute to him. Yes, because Hollywood movie producers definitely think of other humans before they think of the faucet that dribbles out money into their savings accounts getting turned off.
Paul Walker was in the middle of shooting scenes for Fast & Furious 7 (alternate title: THEY’RE MAKING ANOTHER ONE OF THOSE CAR MOVIES?!) when he died and he still had a few more scenes to shoot. The producers pressed pause on shooting and used the time to figure out what they were going to do. There were rumors that they were going to either write Paul’s character out or use a creepy CGI Paul Walker to complete the movie. They are going to use CGI, but they’re going to pair it with doubles played by Paul Walker’s brothers. The producers said on Facebook (via Vulture) yesterday that Caleb and Cody Walker (which sounds like the title of a hit Nickelodeon show about two twin country stars who take over their family’s cow milking business) have stepped in to finish their brother’s scenes.
The FAST & FURIOUS saga is about family. The characters are connected by the bond of family, and it is how all of us who have worked together for more than thirteen years feel about each other. It certainly defines how we feel about our fans.
Our family experienced an unthinkable shock in November. We had to take time to grieve Paul, the brother we love and lost, and to figure out if we should move on with our film.
We came together and all felt the only choice was to continue. We believe our fans want that, and we believe Paul would want that too. Paul had already shot his dramatic scenes and most of his action for FAST & FURIOUS 7, and it’s among the strongest work of his career.
We have resumed shooting and now welcome Paul’s brothers, Caleb and Cody, into our FAST family. Caleb and Cody are helping us complete some remaining action for their brother and fill in small gaps left in production. Having them on set has made us all feel that Paul is with us too.
Let’s hope that next year, Caleb and Cody are nominated for a highly-esteemed MTV Movie Award against Ice Cube and Kevin Hart for Ride Along 2: We’re Still Riding Along and WIN. The world needs another Ice Cube meltdown.
And just like that, thousands of psychiatrists who have never treated Donnie Wahlberg just diagnosed him with psychotic depression and severe masochism. Their evidence? He asked the silicone-brained stick of dull wax that is Jenny McCarthy to marry him.
Today on The View, a relic from the 90s that won’t go away announced to the cackling hyenas around her that she’s getting married to a relic from the 90s who can still fill the panties of 30-somethings with crotch pudding. Back peddaler Jenny McCarthy showed off the yellow sapphire and diamond ring that I hope Donnie Wahlberg bought at Claire’s, because New Kids on the Block’s only got so many reunions tours in them and he shouldn’t waste his cash on some shit that’ll be pawned off in a couple of years (I’m being generous) after the divorce. Jenny told the hysterical hens that after dating for about a year, Donnie proposed last weekend with help from her son Evan. Here’s the clip of Jenny announcing she’s getting pre-divorced and as that blonde enema full of crazy did an obnoxious “YAY” dance, the Wahlbergs all cried themselves into a giant puddle of woe. They already have one crazy in their family (see: Marky Mark) and now they’ve got two.
Somewhere, Donnie is having ear plugs surgically installed in his ear holes, because he knows that it’s the only way he’ll be able to fully deal with a crazy bitch who thought he liked dick, because he didn’t try to wet hump her two seconds after meeting her.
And Donnie has hung out with Jenny and her fellow anti-vaxxers for a year and hasn’t caught the measles yet, which tells me he’s been vaccinated, which brings a smile out of my face, because Jenny has obviously swallowed some vaccine-infused jizz.
Despite the fact that Beyoncé just finished performing the last of her 6 billion shows of the Mrs. Carter tour (she believes it was live streamed directly into the hearts and minds of everyone on earth, do not correct her) and Jay Z recently wrapped up his Smooth Character tour, and the fact that they have so much money they could buy Jesus Christ himself and let Blue Ivy hunt him for sport, Page Six says that Her Majesty Bey and her husband who’s name is not as important have decided to launch a 20-date stadium tour starting late-June.
Damn bitch, everyone has heard you sing about surfboards, we don’t need another tour for the surfbort song. Take a break, put your fucking feet up, take up knitting or some shit, do whatever you gotta do to decompress, but don’t do another tour. We’re all tired. I don’t have enough fight left in me to compete with the Bumble Beys for concert tickets. They’re monsters; they’ll jump through your ethernet cable and cut your fucking ear off. Take a break, please.
And I see you, Blue Ivy. I know that this is all your doing. That sneaky toddler probably has her eye on a new nap-time yacht or a solid-gold baby wipes dispenser, so she snuck into Beyoncé dressing room and left a hand-written note under Bey’s best wig that said: “I can’t help notice that your bank balance has dipped below a billion dollars. Is money tight right now? Should I help ease the burden by moving in with Unky Kanye and Auntie Plasticface? If only there were a way to make more money, but I have no idea, because I’m just a baby. Oh well. Maybe you and Daddy will figure something out.”
After ruling over the peasant babies of New Zealand and letting them know that yes, he’ll take their toys, and no, they won’t say shit about it, the most powerful baby in Britain, whose shits have more say than the Prime Minister, landed in Sydney today. Peasant babies of Australia, hide yo toys!
Baby Prince George and his two mere escorts, Duchess Kate and Prince William, are into week two of their all-expenses government-paid vacation masquerading as work and today they started the Australian leg of their tour. (You’re not alone if your brain immediately ejaculates up the image of Chris Hemsworth’s thighs when you read the words “Australian leg.”) Royal clothes hanger Duchess Kate wore a yellow dress that your mother will wear to Easter mass this Sunday if your mother is a WASPY, Buick Regal-driving type who gets “Allison Sugarbaker” when she takes Buzzfeed’s “Which Designing Woman Are You?” quiz. I’m joking about your mom wearing that dress since it sold out before Duchess Kate’s traveling lady-in-waiting zipped it up. Prince William wore who cares and Baby Prince George wore an elegant ass onesie with puffed sleeves that if my baby self wore to a playdate, I’d get the shit kicked out of me. But Baby Prince George proves that only a truly powerful man can pull off puffed sleeves (see: King Henry VIII, Prince and Seinfeld). The huffs from his haters will make Baby Prince George’s puffed sleeves puffier.
Here’s more of the royals in Sydney today and I can’t wait to see their photo-op with Australia’s ambassadors to the world Kath & Kim.
Rob “The Sock One” Kardashian has always been the most difficult-to-pimp hooker on the roster of Pimp Mama Kris’s Klassy EsKorts (30% discount on all hookers not named Kim) since all he really does is eat, tweet, sell socks, and take up extra space in the bordello. But leave it to that shrewd pimp to find a clever way to make a buck off of even the most useless of her offspring (and that says a lot).
According to Radar, a source close to The Sock One (Pimp Mama Kris with a home-made sock puppet named Tha Source) has entered The Meadows, a treatment centre in Arizona (yes, the same Meadows that Selena Gomez went to when she was fighting her addition to Doucheahol) and will stay for about a month to treat depression and substance-abuse issues. “To find out exactly what substance Rob has been abusing, tune in next season to KUWTK!” - Kris Jenner, as she’s fanning the ink dry on another deal with Satan.
I actually have a soft spot in my heart for The Sock One (a soft, doughy spot), so I hope he gets whatever help he needs fighting whatever demons he has; especially since being around those demons was probably what caused his depression in the first place.
UPDATE: The Sock One’s rep (again, Pimp Mama Kris speaking through a sock puppet) has told E! Online that “Rob is not in rehab”. Phew! For a second I was scared that Domino’s had picked the wrong week to launch those popcorn chicken pizzas, but it looks like they can go ahead and resume production.
Backdoor Farrah releases an insomnia cure-all: Thursday Night Missionary. - TheBluebirdOfCrappiness
Fifty Shades of Neigh. – usernamestaken
via Outside (Yes, horse yoga is a thing that exists)
Domino’s newest artery-clogging gimmick: Pizza with a Popcorn Chicken Crust!
Domino’s hasn’t mastered the art of making pizza yet (and I type that as a bitch who regularly eats their salt lick-covered in cheese and meat shit, because I hate my internal organs), but they’re taking on chicken now and farting out some crap they’ve called “Speciality Chicken.” According to Eater, Domino’s idea of “Speciality Chicken” is a pizza with chicken standing in as the crust. So it’s basically just popcorn chicken with a whole lot of toppings thrown on top. It’s some kind of sloppy, thrown together “chicken casserole” my mom would make using leftovers. This Mama June after birth comes in four flavors: Crispy Bacon & Tomato, Classic Hot Buffalo, Spicy Jalapeno-Pineapple, and Sweet BBQ Bacon.
I fully expect Pizza Hut, the masters of heart attack-inducing fuckery, to answer to Domino’s Popcorn Chicken Pizza by releasing a fried chicken pizza covered in pizza dough and served with liquefied bacon sauce and an ace inhibitor butter chaser.
That crap looks like several kinds of species had abortions on top of a pile of tumors before Brit Brit covered it with her discharge, but I. Still. Would.