T.I. barely waved goodbye to a life filled with jacking off under fluorescent lights (there’s nothing worse) and guess what he went out and did last night. The dumb dumb bitch got himself arrested last night after Los Angeles cops smelled a cloud of Bob Marley’s sweet breath floating out of his Maybach on Sunset Blvd. When the cops searched the car, they didn’t find marijuana, but they did find something that is classified as the bad shit.
TMZ says that the cops wouldn’t say what they got their hands on, but TMZ has reason to believe it’s either meth or ecstasy. T.I.’s gorgeous new wife Tiny was with him in the car, so the two were both arrested and thrown into a jail cell. T.I. just did 7 months in the chokey and he’s currently on probation. Hit it, Antoine!
Tiny and T.I. were booked on felony possession. They bailed out earlier this morning.
T.I. is prettier than frosting on a hard dick, but the cells in his brain marked “STUPID ASS” must be running amok up in there. Does he just love the feeling of 2-count-thread prison sheets scratching the layers of skin off his body so much that he wants to go back? Is this T.I.’s way of pulling a “We must go back to the island” moment sponsored by Jack Shephard?
Didn’t T.I. and Tiny learn anything from Parasite Hilton’s moron moves? Smoke your shit at home and always hide your illegal narcotic of choice in your deepest orifice.
For wizards who can’t afford to go to Hogwarts, there’s always Analwarts Academy. – starvis
Upon hearing that Paris had arrived, all the bedbugs at the Trump International ran like hell. – tbeez
Like the Hoff, the California Raisins are still workin’ their musical magic in Europe. – TheGoldenBoyNC
Lindsay Lohan doesn’t see tweety birds when she gets knocked in the head. She sees this. – Ang
Nat Bussichio (as played by Joe E. Tata), the pit who kept the peach together!
In case you couldn’t tell from everyone around you wearing a pompadour, extra long sideburn, a blazer with rolled up sleeves, a peasant top, the same black & white prom dress or a baby tee under a floral spaghetti strap dress, IT’S 9.02.10 DAY! HAPPY 90210! Get in your red matte BMW convertible and drive over to the Peach Pit, because that’s where everyone should start 90210 day.
Then tell Nat all your stupid teenage problems while he pretends to look concerned even though he could really give a shit, because his condo is in foreclosure, the IRS is auditing him, his mom might need a kidney transplant, his car broke down and he missed the bus. But you don’t know any of that, because you never ask. It’s all about YOU YOU YOU YOU YOU! As it should be!
Once you’re done with Nat, then do any of the following things because this is how you celebrate the INTERNATIONAL blessed holiday that is 90210 DAY!
1. Fuck your best friend’s boyfriend before she gets back from Paris.
2. Call your girlfriend or sister by a really annoying and unnecessary nickname (examples: Bren).
3. Strut your shit in a mother/daughter fashion show with your cokehead mom.
4. Blow your audition for Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, blow the director later to get the role.
5. Run away to Mexico for the day but don’t bring any kind of ID.
6. Pretend to be French.
7. Sing karaoke at the Peach Pit, but don’t stop doing it. Do it for hours.
8. Roll your eyes at the Jerri Blank of West Bev (aka Andrea).
9. Burn down a homecoming float.
10. Take part in the dumbest protest ever known to man.
That will get you started! And basically every moment of this beloved classic is a moment worth posting, so I couldn’t choose only one clip. Oh, but if I had to….
HAPPY 90210, everybody! And what a coincidence, it’s also HAPPY I FUCKING HATE EMILY VALENTINE DAY too!
The Empress of Lucite (An Angel Never Tells)
Aimee Osbourne (27)
Katt Williams (37)
Cedric “K-Ci” Hailey (41)
Camille Grammer (42)
Cynthia Watros (42)
Salma Hayek (44)
Tuc Watkins (44)
Lennox Lewis (45)
Keanu Reeves (46)
Linda Purl (55)
Mark Harmon (59)
Mary Jo Catlett (72)
Yeah, yeah, I know that when the words “John, Travolta, gay, and sex” are thrown into the same sentence the word “scandal” does not apply at all, but I needed for it for theatrical purposes so go with it. The National Enquirer brings us this shocking tale that will make you drop the lube bottle (not really). An author who goes by the name of Robert Randolph is about to release a book about the “underground secret world of celebrity gay spa sex” in Hollywood. Fuck The A-List, this shit right here should be a reality show.
Robert is planning to name names, but the first one he has spat up is probably the least shocking of them all. Robert tells the Enquirer that he has witnessed John Travolta humping on several different dudes at several different spas in L.A.
The last time Robert caught John with his tongue in the culo jar was this past October. Robert is now legally blind. No. But Robert did say that John has offered up his succulent nipple to suckle on several times. Robert said, “I met John in 1998, after he had married Kelly. I believe the marriage is a total fraud because John is totally into guys and has been having sex with them behind Kelly’s back for years. He came on to me a number of times. I always turned him down. But there was always some guy who was willing to have sex with him. And John didn’t stop cheating on Kelly after either of their children was born. John’s a cheating dog. It’s just been wrong, because his wife seems like such a sweet woman.”
Robert, who passed a lie detector test for his interview with the Enquirer, also said that John’s “secret gay life is one of Hollywood’s worst kept secrets. He blatantly cruises guys, and doesn’t seem to care who sees him. I saw him with his lover and he couldn’t get enough. John should come out of the closet already and stop living a lie. His wife Kelly deserves so much better.”
My guess is that John has come home with man pubes in his teeth for years, so I’m sure Kelly knows all about it. I mean, why do you think John spend hours in the Scientology sauna “purifying his soul.” More like peenifying his hole. This is not news to many, so I doubt it’s news to Kelly. Whatever works for them.
And I wish I could purify the image in my head of John with his tongue in the culo jar. Why do I do this to myself?
Matthew McConaughey’s natural scent of fermented armpit jelly, patchouli oil, weed smoke, taint fromage and sweat can never be masked, so I’m not sure why Dolce & Gabbana asked him to be the face of their new cologne. But they kept the fuckery going by using the “THINNING CURSE” tool on his head before cutting and pasting it onto the body of a svelte dandy with delicate hands that only touch silk. I mean, like Matthew’s real arms are even long enough for him to touch his neck anyways. Bitch please!
The pose is way too “grab my smelling salts” for Matthew to pull off. Was Chace Crawford not available?