Jakey Gyllenhaal and Anne Hathaway are pretty much nekkid as mole rats in that Love & Other Drugs movie, which should send a billion endorphins straight to my nipples but from what I’ve seen these two have the sexual chemistry of a pedophile with OCD and an elderly hoarder.
Take these covers of Entertainment Weekly for instance. I know this it supposed to make us pull our zippers down to give our good parts some air, but it’s not doing anything for me. It looks like something you’d see on Awkward Family Photos. Like a brother and sister trying to reenact the Star is Born poster for their New Year’s Eve party invitation.
It’s like the least successful Levitra ad ever. Like a sex therapy book from the early 80s. You see where I’m coming from. And no, you don’t have to gorge out your eyes with a broken off BIC pen, because where I’m coming from is not the usual place I come from. That’s a shame, because the sight of Jakey’s pec pubes is supposed to have that effect on me.
The judge in the custody battle that is NEVER EVER GOING TO END EVER already told Oksana Grigorieva to keep her collagen worms shut around the media, but she ignored his rule and walked into the iguana aquarium last night to talk to Larry King about more of the same stuff. Since OctoSana keeps spilling crap to the media without the judge’s permission, Mad Mel is using this opportunity to try to snatch Baby Lucia away full-time. Ha. Mel has a better chance of getting a tag-team beej from a rabbi and Al Sharpton IN the jacuzzi than winning custody of Baby Lucia, but it’ll be fun watching him try.
TMZ has it on good authority that the glum cunt’s team of lawyers will file for sole custody on Monday morning on the grounds that OctoSana keeps throwing out lies about him to the media. Mel will argue that OctoSana doesn’t give a sugar tit’s nipple about her own daughter’s well-being, because she’s focused on dirtying his pristine image.
That stupid ass Mel. Bitch is just lonely now that he doesn’t have OctoSana around to bark at and make the sign of a swastika on her face with his slap happy hand. The ottomans don’t flinch when he yells at them, so it’s not the fucking same!
And it’s never too early for Baby Lucia to file for complete emancipation from both of their crazy asses. Baby Lucia obviously can’t sign her own emancipation documents, but I’m sure any judge will accept one of her spit bombs as an official signature.
Steven Slater became an international I Quit This Bitch hero legend when he slid down the inflatable evacuation slide to freedom and now he’s trying to keep his checking account from quitting his ass by following every single one of Antoine Dodson’s sparkly footsteps on the ho stroll. Looking like the Gay Sith League’s answer to Eminem, Steven spits out rhymes like
fire ash in a commercial for an iPhone app called Line2. This makes my laptop want to grab two beers, open the window and jump out but I really can’t fault Steven for grabbing onto the utters and milking this shit. Although, I wish he would’ve whored himself out for Slip ‘N Slide instead…
And why isn’t The Backinup Backinup Lady performing in the parking lot of a Dunkin’ Donuts or at the opening of a rubber factory yet?!
At last night’s Ripple of Hope (which is also the pet name George Clooney has given to his anus) Awards in NYC, Roseanne’s old boss Booker Brooks glided along the press line with the one and only Elisabetta Canalis at his side beaming like her benefactor’s favorite glow-in-the-dark butt beads. Elisabetta is becoming an expert at throwing up her coke canals at the cocktail waitresses biting at her ankles to take her place. Look at her perfectly painted “Nobody can work a strap-on like me so I’m not going anywhere, you simple whores” face.
Elisabetta has been so quiet lately, so it’s nice to see her back where she belongs: throwing smugcuntfaces while holding George Clooney’s hand. I do miss her yammering on about how she’s the greatest thing to happen to George since electrified nipple clamps were invented, but she probably smeared an imaginary layer of Super Glue over her lips when Sarah Larson texted her from a hostess club in Downtown L.A. with the message: “See you soon!”
I had the strangest dream last night – about Clarence Thomas and Brett Favre… – Tyroan
Rub it and it turns into a Forty – Raul Duke
Forget the ban on Four Loko, Paris’s Pussy Pop also contains an additive that causes severe side effects that only Valtrex and other STD meds can alleviate. Flavor shown: Lindsay’s Firecrotch – causes an explosion inside and outside your mouth. – LaChaylo
This is NOT what Khia meant by “all you ladies pop your pussy like this”. – AlexDSSF
via O Hell Nawl
Kayla, the fragile lesbian fairy trollette from America’s Next Top One-Time Vogue Eeeeetalia Model!
There are no spoilers here about last night’s ridiculous episode, but I almost gave the TONS OF FUCKING SEQUINS cape Andre Leon Talley wore to the Vogue Italia meeting the Hot Slut stamp. Or his station master cat hat. But I went with Kayla, because she’s so poor that she sleeps in a sleeping bag every night and she’s a proud lezzie who wants to be the first ever lesbun ANTM winner. So yeah, a lesbian who sleeps in a sleeping bag. What’s not to love? I just want to stick Kayla on the end of my No.2 pencil and write long letters to the judging committee about how she should win because she’s a lesbian who sleeps in a sleeping bag EVERY night.
And in case you missed Ty Ty Bank’s DIRECTORIAL debut at the end of last night’s episode, click here to see it. If Ty Ty was a film major at a suburban community college in the mid-80s, this shit would’ve set the class on fire (no, it still wouldn’t have set the class on fire).