And she might’ve sucked out his eyeballs too. That’s the way a troll really says “I love you.”
The Daily Mail posted pictures of 28-year-old Mary-Kate Olsen wearing a plain band on her finger instead of the vintage engagement ring she pulled off of a confederate window’s skeletal hand while scavenging through graves like she does most nights. The pictures of MK and her 45-year-old French banker fiancé Olivier Sarkozy were taken a few days ago in the Hamptons. A “well-connected” source tells Lucky Magazine that the sneakiest troll who always asks you the hardest riddles when you try to cross the bridge and The Brain’s human twin ARE married. But another source tells Gossip Cop that MK and Olivier haven’t gotten married yet.
WHO TO BELIEVE?!
I sort of believe Lucky’s “well-connected source” (who is obviously Mary-Kate’s big-mouthed, do-gooder great uncle Ernest J. Keebler) because everyone but George Clooney’s extra ass is getting secret married. Getting secret married is the thing to do. My mouth is getting secret married to a pepperoni Hot Pocket as I type this. But I also believe Gossip Cop’s source. We would know it right away if a Trollsen got married. Every time a shifty troll from the dark part of the Enchanted Forest gets married, their reception has a huge spread full of squirrel nails, brow hair from toddlers and bear teeth. So I won’t believe it until I go outside and see a squirrel with acrylic nails, a toddler with painted on Sharpie brows and Khloe Kardashian adjusting her dentures.
Ooh wee, someone clearly needs to run themselves a Calgon bath and put on some Enya, because that is not the face of a well-rested working girl! This is the face of someone who’s been burning the midnight oil and/or chasing the midnight dragon. Lindsay Lohan, you worked a whole day this week! Pour yourself a cup of Celestial Seasonings Tension Tamer and put your feet up, you deserve it! For real though, whatever you’re doing, you need to stop, because you look EXHAUSTED.
To celebrate the rave reviews she received for her opening night performance in Speed-The-Plow, Lindsay Lohan (or as she’s now known in America: “London’s Problem Now”) decided to treat herself to a night on the town. After all, it isn’t every day the Apricot Ashtray actually shows up for work semi-sober! Or at all, really. So she decided to go where every famous ho goes when they’re in London, the Chiltern Firehouse. Thank god it’s not an actual firehouse anymore, otherwise LiLo would have spent the night wandering around asking people if she can “slide down the pole” and trying to snort up the white parts of the dalmatian. Instead, she probably spent the night wandering around from table to table, asking rich dudes if she can slide down the pole and snorting up whatever she found on the floor before someone reminded her she has to go back to work the next day. “Wait, you mean I have to show up more than once???”
And I know I’ll hate myself for making this joke, but if Lindsay looks this tired after one day of work, maybe it’s time to Plow-The-Speed. Oh lord, that was awful – I’ll show myself out.
Goopy Paltrow Wants You To Know That She’s Not The Epitome Of Perfection And Screws Up Pasta Sometimes
But FYI: Goopy Paltrow’s screwed up pasta is still a zillion times better than your best pasta. You already knew that, though.
When all of us peasant peons sneak past the guards and stick our eyes on the crack in the stone wall that surrounds Goopy Paltrow’s perfect manor of perfection, our eye sockets fill with pure jealousy as we look at everything in her perfect life from her perfect outdoor pizza oven to the perfect bath tub in her perfect bedroom to the way the perfect stick shoved up her perfect ass gives her perfect posture. But the dehydrated piece of jicama covered with perfection tells Viva Magazine (via E! News) that even she, the human pinnacle of excellence whose full name auto-corrects to PERFECT in every iPhone (every iPhone 6 that is. You literally can’t type her name in an iPhone 5s or lower, because poors don’t deserve that honor!), fails sometimes. I mean, she screwed up pasta once! Technically it wasn’t her fault. It was her Italian water importer’s fault. He sent her jugs full of tap water from Bologna instead of Sicily and it totally made her homemade pasta inedible! Goopy also continued to clarify that “9 to 5 working moms don’t have it as hard as I do” comment she shat up a few months ago.
Rapper, former Flipmode Squad member, and Rasheeda from Carmen: A Hop Hopera (really the only credit that matters) Rah Digga recently spit some truth so hot about Australian rapper Iggy Azalea, you could deep-fry an Outback Bloomin’ Onion in it. During an interview with Gossip Viv from This is 50 Radio (via E!), Rah let it be known that she thinks the answer to Iggy’s question of “Who dat? Who dat?” is ‘A White Chicks-looking kangaroo-riding pantyhose-wrapped bundle of LIES‘:
“Iggy Azalea, I can’t really get into her. Because it’s just not real to me. There is a white girl from Australia that spits in an Australian accent, and her name is Chelsea Jane. That I can get into. Teach me Australian Hip-Hop culture. Don’t come to America and try to convince me that you’re Gangsta Boo. We’re not going to believe you if you’re trying to convince us that you’re out here trap shooting.”
“That’s the problem. They’re too many passes being given. When did it become wrong to call out people that don’t write their own rhymes? When did that become a crime in hip-hop?”
Naturally, Iggy decided to respond to Rah’s accusations that she’s doing a spot-on impression of J-Roc from Trailer Park Boys by throwing some subtle shade on Twitter:
In case you didn’t already know, George Clooney and Amal Alamuddin are the anti-Brangelina and they’re not going to get married in a hush, hush at-home wedding featuring a coloring book dress and a busted, ugly wedding cake made by a child. (May a special place in Hell’s special place open up just for me for saying that, but that cake Pax made was a janky mess. Even Maddox knows this.) MuddiLooney is going to give us SPECTACLE! THEATER! DRAMA! FACE! OLD SCHOOL LIFE MAGAZINE GLAMOUR! Thank God George Clooney isn’t following that “secret wedding” trend and is whoring out his wedding to the masses.
That’s the face of a woman who knows that humping on a jacked-looking human joint will be totally worth it someday. And that day is today! Or at least the day the cheque clears. According to TMZ, Amazonian snu snu goddess Amber Rose is set to receive more than $1 million when legally quits her 12 month marriage to Wiz Khalifa. Sources connected to both say that before they got married, Amber demanded an 8-page prenup that would cover her ass (literally) if shit between her and Cheez Whiz went bad. And Amber wants the prenup enforced, because she’ll get more money that way. Obviously! That’s Chapter 1 in the Get Money Bitch Handbook.
TMZ also says that regardless of whether or not Wiz and/or Amber were passing their no-nos to other hos, she’ll still get her hands on that busted Muppet’s millions, because California is a no-fault state and there was no mention of cheating in their prenup. Additionally, their prenup says nothing about custody, so Amber is asking for full custody of their adorable 1-year-old son Sebastian.
I know that Wiz Khalifa looks like weed dipped in crazy and rolled in bath salts, but I’d marry his ass for 10 years if it meant I got a million dollars every 12 months. Are you kidding me? A million dollars a year?? Sign me up! I’ll make him breakfast and shit too! I’ll work hard for that money! Yes, I’ll wake up every morning next to a human sticker book who’s hair sort of looks like one of those creepy stick bundles from True Detective, but I think I can deal with that. I’d just have to keep repeating the Get Money Bitch mantra: “Don’t be a dummy, bitch get that money.“
For the second time in our lifetimes, a weird thing that we never thought would happen happened: a baby came fist pumping out of Snooki’s mammaloid cooka. The hybrid of a miniature dragon and an Ewok birthed out her and Jionni LaValle’s second adorable guidoling this morning. Ten seconds after a baby was pulled out of Snooki’s body, she jumped on Twitter to announced her kid’s name. Snooki gave her daughter a name that honors her Italian upbringing and that’s nice and everything but I really wish she would’ve honored her reality shit show roots by naming her kid after the duck phone. When will one of those Jersey Shore whores do right by naming one of their spawn after the duck phone?
So happy to let you know we had our beautiful daughter this morning Giovanna Marie LaValle. 6.7 lbs, full head of black hair & perfect
— Nicole Polizzi (@snooki) September 26, 2014
Snooki and Jionni’s first kid, Lorenzo Dominic, is already 2 years old.
It really feels like it was only a second ago when Snooki was pissing on the club floor and trying to stuff Vinny’s watermelon peen into her pinhole poon. And now she’s traded barfing in the jacuzzi for getting barfed on by babies, and is coordinating ovulation cycles with JWoww so they can give birth to babies around the same time and guarantee themselves a season renewal. Our reality show fame whores grow up so fast.
Oh lord. These two boobs again (and I’m not talking about the ones who made North West). Kalm down with the tits, Kim! You don’t have to keep reminding us that you used to be a porn star. WE KNOW.
So it sounds like Kim Kardashian and Kanye West’s trip to Paris has been nothing but a goddamn mess. First Kim gets ambushed by that obnoxious crotch-hugging red carpet menace at the Balmain show. Then Kim and Kanye both show up to the Lanvin show with their sloppy tits hanging out (I want to make a Bosom Buddies joke, but Tom Hanks and Peter Scolari don’t deserve to be dragged into trash town with these two). And now a video has surfaced of Kim and Kanye getting booed after they arrived at the Lanvin show. According to Page Six, Kim and her kurrent husband showed up when they felt like it and delayed the show by 40 minutes. So when the Cheap n’ Tacky Twins finally arrived, they were greeted by a bunch of photographers booing them. At least I think they’re booing them; they might also be saying “Boooooooobs“, since that’s the first thing you see when the Narcoleptic Hooker Queen walks towards you.
Kanye confronting the boo’ers looks like my pajama-wearing 58-year-old neighbor during a stand-off with two garbage men last week at 7am after he accused them of being “too rough” with the cans.
And now TMZ is saying that Kim and Kanye’s karefree Parisian vacation is OVER. Ever since Kim got tackled at Balmain, they’ve started traveling in armored cars with armed guards, because they claim Paris is full of crazy fans and crazy paps. DUH! Of course they’re crazy! Anyone who gets legitimately excited to see those two losers is mentally insane.
The farmer’s homely daughters devised a foolproof plan to get the attention of the local boys. – prommom
“Alright ladies, if we just chew cud, act casual, and move slowly, Keanu won’t notice us climbing through the window…” – Shadeball
via Bro My God
Malt Duck malt liquor, the refined purple nectar of the GODS!
When I was a teenager (yes, I typed that while smelling like Icy Hot and throwing rocks at the brats playing on my lawn), we got plastered on the precious nectar that runs through the streams up in heaven’s most immaculate garden. We got drunk on Strawberry Hill. And when I was a kid, some of the teenagers in my neighborhood got plastered on the purple rain that falls from above in heaven. They got plastered on MALT DUCK! Malt Duck was cheap as shit, came in a six or eight pack (I think) and I also remember it coming in chimichanga dick-sized bottles (short and fat). You could get it in grape flavor or apple flavor. I never ever tasted it and that’s one of my biggest regrets in life. I’m assuming it tasted like Prince’s purple sweet wet kiss, or like grape cough syrup mixed with piss and turpentine. Delicious!
Apparently, Malt Duck liquor was sent to the malt liquor graveyard sometime in 1991. You can still find some bottles or cans on auction sites for around $1.99 a bottle and that might seem like a lot of cash for that cheap crap, but that shit is vintage now and vintage costs. But if you drank Malt Duck in the olden times, you’re probably not interested in buying more since you still have a hangover from it.