You might’ve been standing outside today and noticed that a slutty-looking, Drakkar Noir-smelling tornado was humping every piece in its path. Oh, it was just Robin Thicke celebrating the end of his marriage by fucking everything he can. No pussy will be left un-fucked by Robin’s slutty ass. Paula Patton said in a statement to People that after being together since they were teenagers, they are pressing the stop button on their marriage.
“We will always love each other and be best friends, however, we have mutually decided to separate at this time,” the singer and the actress told PEOPLE on Monday in an exclusive statement.
The pair, who first met when Thicke was 14, have been married since 2005 and welcomed son Julian Fuego Thicke in April 2010.
Just like a trick who looks down and sees a rash on her coochie after boning Robin Thicke, we all saw this coming.
Well, I’m guessing that Paula realized that the whole “open” thing wasn’t really working out, because Robin was opening his fly to every trick and ho but her. And she woke up from whatever waking coma she was in and realized that she’s married to the “Blurred Lines” douche. And yes, we should all blame this on Miley.
This picture sums it up. Ramona Singer is all the way lit up and is giving all her love to the camera while Mario Singer eye fucks some sweet ass over yonder with his peen-shaped gaze.
Just a week after Ramona of The Real Housewives of New York City and her husband of 27 years Mario got into a fight at their Hamptons home when she caught him with his side slut turned main slut, she has filed legal papers to officially stab the heart of their marriage with a broken Pinto Grigio bottle. Mario and Ramona have been separated for a while and he’s been humping on some 20-something piece while she does the same thing, but she’s decided to cut the cord completely. Kathie Lee Gifford’s spirit (as in gin) animal filed for divorce in Manhattan’s Supreme Court (which sadly, isn’t led by Fiona “Knotty Piiiiiiiiiiiine” Goode) on Tuesday and she wants their NYC apartment and their fancy house in the Hamptons. Ramona tweeted this yesterday:
“Thank you all for the love & support! For my daughter’s sake, I would appreciate everyone respecting our privacy during this difficult time.”
I love it when a mess who is on a reality show and squirts about her personal shit to tabloids and The New York Post puts a “privacy please” sign over her life. So when Ramona goes on Watch What Happens Live and fills Andy Cohen’s ears with manufactured tears as she cry moans about how Mario did her wrong, I will respect her privacy by changing the channel to House Hunters International. When Ramona shows up on the season premiere of RHoNY and starts squawking about her private shit, I will respect her privacy by changing the channel to reruns of the Puppy Bowl (aka another show where un-potty trained animals slobber and jump on each other). You can count on me, RaMoanAh!
And of course, Jill Kamen Zarin™ piped in about this:
— Jill Kamen Zarin™ (@Jillzarin) January 27, 2014
I should say that Jill Zarin’s assistant piped in about this, because Jill Zarin was unable to tweet since she was too busy furiously rubbing herself while overdosing on gleeeeeeeeeeeeee.
In more “breakups that make you want to punch a cherub and cry for the death of true love” news (served in several puffy layers of sarcasm), Heidi Klum and that bodyguard who went from protecting her and her family to protecting her coochie with his peen have broken up and they’re fucking done professionally and personally. A source (I’m guessing Heidi’s publicist’s first name is Source, it’s Norwegian) tells People that after a year and a half of living the basic cable, low-budget version of The Bodyguard, Heidi and Martin WhateverHisNameIsItDoesntMatter are no longer together and he’s no longer on her payroll. Heidi is free to fornicate with other members of the help! One day you’re in Heidi’s cooch, the next day you’re out.
“Martin was there for her during a challenging time in her life and it was something she will always be grateful for. They are no longer working together.”
“Martin was there for her during a challenging time in her life” is such a professional way of saying “Martin’s rebound dick was good and he fucked the pain of her marriage ending right out of her and she and her vagine will always be grateful to him for that.” The bad news for Martin is that he’s out of a job and had to move out of Heidi’s mansion. The good news is that he never married Heidi’s ass and so he doesn’t have to suffer through the pain of renewing his vows with her every goddamn painful year.
A few months ago, crazy-eyed Ramona Singer of The Real Housewives of New York swore on the secret recipe for Ramona Pinot Grigio (read: turtle piss, white grape juice and meth) that her husband of 27 years Mario Singer stuck his raw 60-year-old peen into his 20-something socialite side piece and knocked her up. The socialite type Kacey Dexter later got an abortion. Ramona denied it all, but I guess she recently wiped the Pinot out of her eyes and is sick of Mario coming home smelling like a snatch that isn’t hers, because she kicked his ass out and hopped on a 20-something-year-old piece herself.
Page Six says that Mario didn’t stop boning Kacey Dexter and Ramona finally kicked him out of their UES apartment recently and she let him stay at their house in Southampton. Ramona hasn’t been crying on her back like an out-of-water trout gasping for air. She went out on a date with some 20-something dude named Travis Millard last Thursday. Everything was Pinot and rainbows until Ramona went to their house in the Hamptons on Friday night and caught Mario with that tramp Kacey. Ramona, being the wine bottle full of 100 proof drama that she is, called the cops and when they showed up she told them that Mario choked her out. Page Six’s source says that Ramona made that part up and neither of them got violent on each other.
No one was arrested and zero charges were pressed. But before the cops left, Ramona threatened them with a good time by offering them a glass of Ramona Pinot. It wasn’t turtle time for the cops, so they declined her invitation and left.
This could be a STUNT QUEEN move to promote the new season of RHoNY, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s true. To me, Ramona and Mario have always looked like swingers who shouldn’t be swingers. You know, they are probably a total drag at swingers parties. Mario quickly gets himself a piece to fuck and after Ramona gets completely coked up, she suddenly gets jealous, pulls Mario off of his piece, slaps his peen, slaps his piece’s tits and then gets kicked out. Ramona cries and screams in the car ride home and Mario has to stop at a gas station to relieve his blue balls by jacking off into the bathroom sink. That pretty much sums up their entire marriage to me.
And I know Mario redefines slimey, but I still would.
I’ll wait here as you break up with your piece, break up with your entire family, break up with your dog, break up with your cat, break up with your favorite string of anal beads, break up with your vaporizer, break up with your Beverly Hills Teens DVDs, break up with your entire stash of microwave chicharrones and break up with everything else you love hard, because love won’t keep any of us together.
That sound you hear that sounds a lot like David Beckham letting out a high-pitched cry orgasm is the sound of the entire muskrat community wailing over the divorce of the two people who perfectly captured a regular muskrat date night in a song. The Captain & Tennille gave muskrats a voice! People confirms that 73-year-old Toni Tennille filed divorce papers on January 16th in the city she lives, Prescott, Arizona. As soon as Toni filed papers to legally end her 39-year-old marriage with the Captain, the government should’ve immediately declared all current marriages null and void and made marriage illegal for everyone. What is the point of marriage if the Captain & Tennille aren’t married? The government is probably working on that, but they’re currently crying into a captain hat on the floor of a sauna.
The Captain (born name: Daryl Frank Dragon) tells TMZ that he has no idea why Toni wants to legally quit his 71-year-old ass. They’re still living in the same house.
A few years ago, Toni said that The Captain has a neurological condition similar to Parkinson’s and he suffers from tremors which has affected his ability to play the keyboard.
Why? Why? Why? Why would Toni divorce The Captain’s ass in his hour of need? Why would Toni ruin everybody’s faith in love by doing this? Why would Toni end 39 years of marriage? What’s the point? Can’t she just sleep in another room and ignore his ass the way normal married couples do? I really hope this is some STUNT QUEEN shit. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go hug an economy-sized bottle of tequila while singing this:
Finding out that Lizzie Maguire is going to be a divorcee is like finding a white hair on your ass lip. We’re all old. Hilary Duff’s rep tells E! News that after three short years of being married to Frankenstein’s Canadian monster and former NHL player Mike Comrie, she’s done with being married to him. Hilary and Mike started dating in 2007, they got married in 2010, they made a son named Luca Cruz in 2012 and now they’re going their separate ways. Hilary Duff will no longer get temporarily knocked unconscious when Mike’s brick house head accidentally knocks against her head during missionary and he’ll no longer feel the fear a dude feels when Hilary scrapes those pony teeth against his dick shaft. It’s a sad day. At least we’ll always have this. Hilary’s rep released this canned statement:
“Hilary Duff and husband Mike Comrie have mutually decided to an amicable separation. They remain best friends and will continue to be in each other’s lives. They are dedicated to loving and parenting their amazing son, and ask for privacy at this time.”
Below are pictures from three days ago of the Canadian furniture heir (his family is worth $500 million) giving Hilary a leaf in a park in Beverly Hills. It looks like a sweet moment, but now I know what’s really going on here. Mike gave her that leaf while saying, “Take this leaf, shove it up your ass and savor it, because it’s the only thing you’re going to get from me!” Yes, I live in a bubble where every relationship ends Dynasty-style.
It really is hard out there for a beard, because both Lainey Gossip and UsWeekly say that Jake Gyllenhaal and model Alyssa Miller (Side note: It feels totally unnatural and wrong typing the first name “Alyssa” and then not typing the letters M-I-L-A-N-O afterward) are done with each other after six months. UsWeekly’s source says distance was the reason why they broke up, which means that it became a serious problem when he kept wanting to keep his peen at a far distance from her cooch. NO! Alyssa is off doing modeling shit and Jake is off doing movie star shit. The source spit this out:
“They fizzled out. It happened a while ago — before the holidays. He’s back on the scene. Things were really good between Jake and Alyssa right up until he had to leave for L.A. to go shoot a movie [Nightcrawler] in the fall. Then the distance really got to them. [Jake] was very taken with [Alyssa], but I think their work definitely drew them apart. They were apart for the holidays, and things weren’t good with them even before that. She’s very much a long-term relationship girl. He’s not as much of that mindset.”
The real tragedy here is that Alyssa was with Jake during his “starving himself for that Oscar“ phase. So in the beard portfolio she gives to potential clients is nothing but pictures of her with Jake looking like a heroin-addicted drifter. How dreadful.
Here’s Jake looking lumberjack hot again in Toronto two days ago.
And whenever I see a picture of Ricky Martin and his J. Crew catalog (I see those heather grey tees) looking family, I’m always reminded that his twin kids dress better than me and their hair game is next level. I think the one on the right is even wearing hair clay. My hair can’t even take hair clay. Damn that kid.
So, Ricky Martin’s spokeswhore queefed out a statement to People saying that after four years of doing each other, Ricky and his stock broker partner Carlos Gonzalez Abella are no longer doing each other full-time.
“Ricky and Carlos have mutually agreed to end their relationship but continue to be united by friendship and their shared experiences.”
The hell kind of cheesy statement is that? I hope that by “shared experiences” Ricky means the sex tape they shot together. I mean, it’s always a tragic day when two hot bitches break up. But it’s even more sad for us when they break up amicably. Because I want Ricky and Carlos to get into a fight, throw vases at each other and I want Ricky to scream LARGATE at Carlos before kicking him out of their mansion. Then I want Carlos to get revenge by leaking the fuck tape they made with bright lights and HD cameras. Is that too much to ask?!
Oh well, at least we’ll always have that picture of them shaking sand off of a towel together. (Sadly, “shaking sand off of a towel” is not a euphemism for something sexy.)
I guess it’s safe to call 2013 the year that true love died; so much dust has been bitten in the past 12 months, it’s like The Grim Reaper of Relationships opened an all-you-can-eat dust buffet (I’d like to think Tan Mom’s split was the dusty hand-carved roast beef of the buffet. And yes, I have NO idea what that means). But the Grim Reaper proved he wasn’t full from 28 plates of boring hetero relationships and decided on drag queens for dessert. WASN’T MADONNA AND BABY BRAHIM ENOUGH FOR YOU?!?
According to People, it’s time to throw on some latex gloves and wheel another relationship into the morgue, because Sharon Needles (The First Lady of Nightmares) and Alaska (Most Likely To Be Mistaken For A Drowsy Tori Spelling) took their relationship to the Interior Illusions Lounge, let it polish off 12-14 Absolut cocktails, and fall asleep into a pool of its own vomit, because it’s officially dead:
Needles, who won season 4 of the show, and Alaska, who was a runner up the following season, announced their breakup “on good terms” in a tongue-in-cheek press release, and included their wish “to clarify their intentions to admirers who may question the reason behind this mutual decision not to continue their relationship.”
“The survival of our partnership relies on simply changing the word ‘boy’ in boyfriend to ‘best,’” Needles says. “And because of my severe vanity, I’d like to keep my social media as a place dedicated to my art, and not a place to talk about my personal life.”
“RuPaul once said that people come into our lives for different reasons for different intervals of time,” says Needles of her relationship, which began when they met in Pittsburgh. “I will treasure the four years we had together.”
Sharon, help me lift this heavy box filled with oh, puh-lease. Post-breakup, everyone acts all Oprah’s Next Chapter-level zen until you run into your ex a week later at the mall getting a fucking Wetzel’s Pretzles with some trick-ass ho, and then you find yourself in the parking lot keying ‘YOU COULDN’T WAIT TILL MY CORPSE WAS COLD BEFORE YOU FUCKED ALL OVER MY GRAVE?!?’ on the hood of their car. I mean…not that I know from experience. Sharon, I have..uh..a friend who thinks you should avoid the mall for the next couple months.
(Pic via Tumblr)
If you’re still weeping into a carton of bananas foster-flavored Häagen-Dazs because Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams broke up and shat all over your heart before you could get over the ending of The Notebook, stop that ugly ass crying because there’s hope on the horizon. Radar is reporting Ryan and Eva Mendes are stepping back from their two-year relationship and if Ryan didn’t break it off by changing this scene to say “I want none of you… forever“, then the floor can open up underneath me and suck me down the water slide to hell because I have nothing more to live for.
The 2 Fast 2 Furious actress and The Notebook hunk haven’t officially split, but, “there was a realization before Thanksgiving that they took things way too fast and were rushing toward a marriage that neither of them particularly needed,” a source told Radar.
“They’ve decided to take a break to reevaluate their romance.”
Still, according to the source, Gosling, 33, is the one who is undecided, but “Eva wanted to have his babies.”
Nicholas Sparks could take a cue from this “source” on how to write true romance. It’s not declarations of love in the rain or sappy break ups and make ups. I’ve never heard a line more romantic or full of love than “rushing toward a marriage that neither of them particularly needed“. Poetry! Who needs Tom Hiddleston’s recital of May I Feel Said He when there’s such moving prose about Eva and Ryan’s relationship that boils down to becoming totally complacent and no longer being in charge of your relationship trajectory.
And Eva, Eva, Eva. You gotta up your game! A strong seventy-six percent of the women on the internet have called dibs on Ryan’s baby gravy, so you’re going to have to try a lot harder than that to sink your hooks in. Maybe Rachel can take a second out of her busy schedule of keeping in touch with Ryan to give you some pointers on how to always be a contender.