Here’s the reigning Crystal Enchantress of the Ice daring Peta to come at him while spreading his glamour on the streets of NYC this morning.
Somewhere also in Manhattan, Joan Rivers took a good look at these pictures and then went back to her dressing room to change into a different ensemble. Sorry, Joan. Johnny beat you to it.
Roger Ebert can no longer speak, eat or drink on his own after undergoing several surgeries for thyroid cancer. But thanks to a Scottish company, Roger Ebert can speak again in his own words. The computer-generated voice was built using hours of audio from Roger’s DVD commentaries and TV shows. In an interview with Oprah that airs this afternoon, Roger debuted his new voice.
So now you’ll have to tell your co-workers that your eyes aren’t red, because you were crying like a baby while watching the clip above. You’ll have to tell them that you were just smoking crack in the gas station bathroom during your lunch hour. And the wet spots on your shirt aren’t tears. It’s the cum stains left by the hustler you picked up on the side of the road. You know, the hustler you smoked crack with in the bathroom. There’s your defense.
Page Six brings us this story about how Chynna Phillips filed for divorce from Billy Baldwin on Friday, but withdrew the documents yesterday after she had a change of heart. This just your regular “wife files for divorce, talks to her business manager, withdraws divorce” story. So since all I’ve got is time, I’m going to try to tell it using the title of every single Wilson Phillips song (covers not included) from their first two albums. Yes, I own all their albums. Yes, I am officially your mother, so send me a card (E-Cards don’t count) on Mother’s Day or I’ll go into your old room to weep into your baby blanket.
This post isn’t going to make any sense, but my posts never do so you’re probably already used to that. Here we go!!!
Chynna Phillips checked into rehab for anxiety early last week, because IT’S ONLY LIFE. Five days later, Chynna shuffled up to the receptionist at rehab and said, “RELEASE ME.“ Once Chynna finished signing her exit papers, she turned to the receptionist, bowed and proclaimed, “GOODBYE CARMEN, I’m all FUELED FOR HOUSTON.” Technically, Chynna was going back to Santa Barbara, but she’s been a little spastic lately so she sometimes has no idea what she’s saying.
When she got home, Chynna called her husband Billy and asked him, “WHERE ARE YOU?“ Billy told Chynna that he’s in NYC filming Gossip Girl. Chynna was feeling a little ALONE, so she asked Billy if he would come ALL THE WAY FROM NEW YORK to see her. Billy told Chynna that he couldn’t, but to HOLD ON for one more day because he’d be with her soon.
After Chynna hung up with her husband, she felt like she didn’t have A REASON TO BELIEVE their love would make it anymore. So Chynna called her lawyer to file for divorce. Chynna had to call him OVER AND OVER again, because the line was busy for some reason. When Chynna finally got through, she told her lawyer that she needed to divorce Billy. Chynna cried to her lawyer that she’s only FLESH AND BLOOD and it was time to GIVE IT UP. Chynna’s lawyer responded by saying, “I HEAR YOU.” And with that, Chynna’s lawyer submitted the divorce papers to be filed in a Santa Barbara court.
Billy immediately Skyped Chynna when he found out what she just did. They argued for a few minutes and Billy begged Chynna, “Please don’t RELEASE ME.” Chynna couldn’t take it anymore and logged off after saying, “YOU WON’T SEE ME CRY, Billy!”
Chynna ran off to bawl into her bed sheets. When she wiped her eyes on the pillow case, she looked up and stared at a beautiful picture of Billy on their wedding day. Chynna realized she was just being IMPULSIVE and told herself, “Chynna, YOU’RE IN LOVE. That’s the way it should be.” So with that, Chynna grabbed her coat and got into her car to drive to the court house. But there was a tiny problem. Chynna’s car was out of gas.
Instead of wasting time calling AAA, she put on her Easy Spirits and started to run to court. When a guy on a bike noticed she was in a hurry, he told her to hop on and he’d give her a ride. Chynna was so excited to get to the court house that she kept pulling on her savior’s jacket too hard. He kept having to shout at her, “DON’T TAKE ME DOWN or you’ll go down too!” Once they got to the court house, Chynna hugged her savior and said, “OOH YOU’RE GOLDEN!” Dude rolled his eyes at her, because he was annoyed that she kept pulling at his jacket like an idiot.
Just as a court clerk was about to file Chynna’s divorce papers, she yelled at him to stop. The clerk turned around, gave Chynna the sex eye and puckered his lips at her. The court clerk had EYES LIKE TWINS. Skeezy twins, that is. Chynna couldn’t believe the court clerk was actually hitting on her at a time like this! Chynna demanded that he hand over the papers, but he refused to do so unless she gave him a little kiss on his penis first.
Chynna told him she’s following Lady GaGa’s advice and only having sex with people she loves. Namely, her husband. The court clerk whispered in Chynna’s ear, “THIS DOESN’T HAVE TO BE LOVE, sweetheart” And just when he was about to force a kiss on her, a sassy judge saw what was going down and put a stop to it. The judge snatched the papers out of the clerk’s hand, handed them over to Chynna and then fired the perv on the stop.
Once Chynna had the divorce papers in her hands, she dropped to her knees, ripped them into a million pieces and shouted into the heavens, ” THE DREAM IS STILL ALIVE!!!!!!!!!!”
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go wash the patheticness from my finger tips (SPOILER ALERT: It’s not going to come out).
Simon Monjack’s name was included in Brittany Murphy’s will, but only to point out that she isn’t leaving him a pen to shit in! But don’t cry into your donuts for Simon, he tells TMZ that he asked Brittany to write in her will: “I am married to Simon Monjack who I have intentionally left out of this will.”
After Brittany and Simon got married, she drafted up a will and trust, leaving everything to her mother Sharon including her home in the Hollywood Hills. TMZ also reports that Sharon has put the house on the market for $7.2 million. Simon says that once the house is sold, he will move to New York WITH Sharon……
Did all of us suddenly board the Orient Express bound for Agatha Christie-ville?! When we turn the page, are we going to read that Sharon and Simon are now living on a house on Long Island together where he spends his days sunbathing in a Speedo by the pool while she paints still lifes in the greenhouse? “Something in the milk ain’t clean” indeed.
In other news from the Sasquatch Gazette, Simon says that he’s fasting right now so he can fit into his tuxedo and walk the red carpet at the Oscars on Sunday. Simon tells E!, “I have been honored by an invitation to the Academy Awards, which I am very grateful for. As far as the plan goes, I will fast for the next seven days in order to fit into my tux and polish up the patent leather shoes and then, in my wife’s honor, walk the infamous red carpet.”
My side-eye is staying to the side.
At this point, the only news about Charlie Sheen and Brooke Mueller that would make me smear my pearl necklace is if I read that they get up at 6 every morning to pick organic vegetables from their garden to make fresh baby food for their twin sons. Other than that, everything else is filed under: DUH. Including this story from Radar about some around-the-way-ho who claims she had a drug-fueled threesome with the Sheens.
While Charlie and Brooke are currently trying to dry out, one of their former fuck buddies is shopping her story around to the highest bidder. A source said, “Brooke is bisexual. She and Charlie have had more than one woman share their bed in the short time they’ve been married. Some of the women they slept with together also did drugs with them.”
Radar says they don’t know who the woman is, but it wouldn’t be hard to figure out. They just have to follow Gloria Allred and she’ll lead them to the skank in question. Seriously, I think Gloria trained her nose to sniff out celebrity semen housed in a mistresses’ vagina. It’s a gift, really.
And again, this story goes without saying. It’s not like Charlie and Brooke did lines of the bad shit and then read Bible verses together. Although, I’d rather see that than a threesome sex tape (it’s coming, so brace your retinas).
Lady CaCa walks around in public with only dick-tucking panties on, and regularly sings about humping on someone’s disco stick (or something), but that doesn’t mean she’s living the real-life version of Caligula. At MAC’s Viva Glam charity event in London last night, Lady CaCa told reporters (via E!) that she’s single and celibate at the moment. Eddie Murphy just frowned.
Lady CaCa queefed, “I’m single because I don’t have the time. You know what? It’s OK. Even Lady Gaga can be celibate, you don’t have to have sex to be loved. If you can’t get to know them, you shouldn’t have sex with them. Orgasms are the biggest obstacles for women. Sex should be fun, beautiful and colorful, but women get the short end of the stick. We’re just receivers. We can’t talk about sex, we can’t sing about sex.”
Since we’re suddenly in a sex ed. class now, can Professor CaCa explain to me what “getting to know them” means? Because in my circle jerk, getting to know them IS fucking around with them. I mean, how can I have a second date with someone if I don’t know if the dick is good or not? If the dick sucks, do you really want to have pancakes with them in the morning?
My motto is, if you want to fuck ’em, fuck ’em. If you don’t want to fuck ’em, go home, grab a bottle of lube and fuck yourself.