I just pictured Mugatu responding to this news by saying “Secret babies, so hot right now.” Actress Jenna Fischer and her husband
Jim Halpert Lee Kirk have beaten the previous record of 2 weeks set by Kerry Washington for keeping a Hollywood birth a secret by confirming to E! News that Jenna gave birth to the couple’s second baby on May 25th. I’d say it’s incredible that Jenna was able to keep her secret baby a secret for 3 weeks, but it probably has something to do with the fact that she doesn’t seem like a fame-hungry attention-whore type who would “accidentally” leak exclusive pics of her baby popping its head out of her dilated cervix to TMZ (“That’s a good idea; I’ll keep that in mind for when I have a baby” – Kim Kardashian).
As for the name, Jenna and her husband not-Jim Halpert must be big into that Six Flags old-time photo lifestyle, because they named their new baby girl Harper Marie, and they already have a 2-year-old son named Weston Lee. I hope that time travel is invented in the next 20 years, because Harper Marie and Weston Lee need to fulfill their destiny by going back in time and running a rowdy saloon in the Wild West.
Lil Kim Birthed Out A Baby Girl And Her Newborn Daughter’s First Words Will Be, “Uh, Which Way To The Name Changing Office?”
In a hospital in New Jersey somewhere, Lil Kim is trying to contort her rubber Whoopee cushion face into the look of pure happiness, because today she was reunited with her true loves: BOTOX AND COLLAGEN! Some new mothers scream for their smegma-covered newborn or a bottle of any kind of booze after giving birth, but I’m sure Lil Kim screamed for fillers and syringes full of liquid plastic. Because she’s been without them for much too long. But Lil Kim did find some time in between filling her post-pregnant face full of her life elixir of choice to name her kid. UsWeekly says that after being knocked up for what felt like 30 seconds, the plastic Nermal figurine popped out the baby she made with Mr. Papers in a New Jersey hospital this morning. The name they gave their daughter is perfect if their daughter’s goal in life is to be the headline stripper at an Atlantic City strip club/buffet restaurant that’s known for their Crown Royal-basted barbecue wings.
Lil’ Kim welcomed her daughter at 9:58 a.m. EST in New Jersey, the insider tells Us. The newborn — named Royal Reign — weighed in at 6 pounds, 5 ounces, and measured 19.5 inches in length.
Kim and Jermaine Jackson don’t only share the same back alley plastic surgeon, they also share a love for “regal” (see: fucked up) baby names.
You know, it could’ve been worse, though. Kim could’ve named her poor child something like Versace Juvéderm or PayPalla Princess. And “Royal Reign” isn’t that bad, because it sounds like the name of a Prince fragrance sold exclusively at Bath and Body Works. Besides being named “Royal Reign” is the last thing Lil Kim’s child has to worry about. The poor kid has to worry about scrunching her face when she cries, because we all know what Lil Kim does when she spots a wrinkle.
In case you’re unfamiliar with the naming conventions in Hank Baskett’s family (“Can I come live with you?” – My brain) every time a uterus pops out a baby with Baskett DNA, it’s given the name Hank. Every baby is named Hank Baskett. The name John Smith sleeps with one eye open and clutching at a shotgun to protect its title as the most common name in America, because it knows Hank Baskett is coming for it. When Hugh Hefner’s former diaper-changer Kendra Wilkinson pushed out the first baby she made with Hank Baskett in 2009, she named him Hank Baskett.
And on Monday, Kendra and Hank gave birth to their second child, a baby girl. Unfortunately, they didn’t name her Hankina or Hankette or Hank 2; Us Weekly says that they broke with tradition and named their baby Alijah Mary Baskett. Well, I guess she can always legally change it to Hankette when she gets older.
Aside from the fact that they missed the opportunity to name their second child Hank Basket (just cause she’s a girl don’t mean she don’t deserve to be part of the future army of Hanks) I do like that Kendra gave her baby the kind of name that sounds like something an old southern lady would say if Kendra ripped a hot fart in front of her. “Sweet Alijah Mary, my eyes are burning!”
I’m sure there’s a Fifth Element joke in there somewhere, but all I can think of is that the fifth element is Bruce Willis’s powerful pepaw jizz, and that makes no goddamn sense, because I’m positive you won’t find semen on the periodic table (unless you went to my high school, which was filled with perverted degenerates; in which case, yes, there is semen on the periodic table).
Pop a congratulatory can of Pringles for Rumer Willis and The Other Two (Scout and..uh…Bruce II?), because Us Weekly says that on Monday, Bruce’s wife, 35-year-old model Emma Heming-Willis, was presented with the award for excellence in the field of gold digging by birthing the couple’s second child together, Evelyn Penn Willis. Bruce and Emma already have a 2-year-old, Mabel Ray. Us Weekly also says that Baby Evelyn clocked in at nearly 9 lbs, so send your thoughts and prayers to Emma’s vagina. If that baby is like the older three and inherited her daddy’s massive cranium, she no doubt left a devastating trail of destruction on her way out.
Evelyn is pretty, but that middle name made me immediately think of Sean Penn, which caused me to hiss in Bruce’s general direction. No innocent child should ever be associated with a sunburnt taint wrinkle. Get CPS on line one, I want to find out if that’s considered child abuse or not.
You can’t so much as fart in Hollywood without hearing about it in detail (“A source close to the butt hole claims it was silent, but violent”), yet TMZ is saying that Kerry Washington gave birth to the baby she was pregnant…TWO WEEKS AGO. Now, two weeks may not seem like that long to you and me, but in Hollywood Time, that’s roughly the equivalent of 4 months (I’m sure Neil deGrasse Tyson will do a better job explaining Hollywood Time on a future episode of Cosmos). This is truly some Scandal-level sneakery.
TMZ says that on April 21st, Kerry and her husband, NFL player Nnamdi Asomugha, gave birth to a baby girl named Isabelle Amarachi Asomugha. The must have tiptoed in to Cedars-Sinai dressed like Secret Squirrel, or checked into triage under the name “Mr. and Mrs. Incognito”, because nobody tipped off the paps. Then all three of them must have climbed on top of each other’s shoulders and threw on an extra-long trench coat so they could sneak out in private as well. So sneaky. So smart. Kerry really is Olivia Pope.
So belated congratulations, Kerry and Nnamdi, on the arrival of baby Isabelle Amarachi Asomugha (I can pronounce that, but still can’t pronounce “Teresa Giudice” correctly), but also for managing to be a famous person who was able to give birth in Los Angeles without anyone knowing about it for almost two weeks after it happened. I’d like to see NDT explain the mystery behind that one.
I can hear the Xander Jones truthers now: “YOU MEAN ”A PARENT FOR THE SECOND TIME’, RIGHT? HE’S ALREADY SOMEBODY’S PARENT! YOU CAN’T DENY THE EVIDENCE!”
The Year of the Diaper Genie has once again bestowed upon us another poopy blessing, this time to the home of Kenyan marathon fuckers Olivia Wilde and Jason Sudeikis. On Wednesday night, Olivia announced she’d evicted the tiny freeloader living rent-free in her uterus (I literally just pictured a fetus in sweatpants eating Doritos and laughed for a solid 60 seconds, which tells me I should probably cool it on the morning booze) by tweeting a vaguely-artsy picture of her snuggin’ on her new baby son with the caption:
Ladies and gentlemen, Otis Alexander Sudeikis has LEFT the building! (I’m the building)
First off, congratulations Olivia and Jason, mazel to you, babies are a gift, life is precious, etc. Now that that’s out of the way, Otis Sudeikis? Ain’t nobody got time for all those S sounds, especially somebody with a bit of a lisp like me. Every time I try to say “Otis Sudeikis”, I sound like a drunk Cindy Brady (although it’s not really Otis’s fault; I always sound like a drunk Cindy Brady). At least they were kind enough to throw Alexander in there to give my mouth a 4-syllable break from snake hissing. Thanks guys, I appreciate it.
Alright, now back to analyzing that black and white picture of baby Otis. “See that curve at the top of his ear? You’ll notice that Xander Jones shares an almost identical-looking ear curve. Coincidence? OF COURSE NOT!!!”
For the last 2 months, I’d say a little prayer on my E.T. doll every time I saw a picture of Drew Barrymore because it felt like she had been pregnant for-ev-er and I was starting to get worried she was the victim of some weird gypsy curse that made her permanently pregnant (which is a punk move, even for the most vengeful of curse-throwing gypsies). Thankfully there was no curse (or Drew broke the curse, will update with details as soon as they’re released from www.gypsycurses.net) because People says that on Tuesday, Drew and her husband Will Kopelman became the parents of another little girl, who they’ve named Frankie Barrymore Kopelman. Drew and Will are already the parents of 19-month-old Olive Kopelman.
For someone who always struck me as a bit spacey and new age-y, Drew has managed to give her kids some pretty normal names. I was certain that after playing it safe with Olive she’d pull a 180 with the second baby and pick something bonkers like Moon Glow or Peaceful, but Frankie is cute. I especially like Frankie and Olive together; it sounds like a mid-range Italian chain restaurant. Frankie and Olive is where you go when there’s too long of a wait at Olive Garden. “2 hours? Oh forget it, I’m not waiting 2 hours. We’ll go to Frankie and Olive. I think I got a 2-for-1 coupon somewhere in my purse.”
Mike Myers (aka “Wayne Campbell” if you’re in your 40s, “Austin Powers” if you’re in your 30s, “Shrek” if you’re in your 20s, and “Some dude who might be wearing John Travolta’s hair” to anyone currently studying for SATs) shagged a baby into his wife Kelly Tisdale 9 months ago, and Us Weekly says that a tiny baby girl popped out of Kelly earlier today. Mike and Kelly already have a 2-year-old son that they named Spike Myers (which is what you get if you put “Mike Myers” into an Ed Hardy name generator), so I was crossing my fingers that they’d name Baby #2 something equally SoCal, like Blaze or Flayme, but they named her Sunday Molly Myers. Personally, I like the name Sunday Molly, because it sounds like something written on Miley Cyrus’s drug to-do list.
Friday: Freon, Weed
Plus with a name like “Sunday Molly”, she’d make a killing in college selling drugs (you gotta make it easy for the dumb ones to remember who they buy from). Then again, I’m talking about 20 years in the future, so molly will probably be replaced by “future coke” or “robot speed” or something called “bleep-blorp”. Either way, mazel to you both, Mike and Kelly.
And a single tear was wiped away from the collective faces of obsessive internet fanboys everywhere (in case you’re wondering, that tear smells like generic brand Mountain Dew and basement). But they also didn’t name their babies Turkmenistan Daffodil and Uzbekistan Amaryllis (FYI: Michael K’s tears smell like Flaming Hot Cheetos, lube, and the giant novelty jug of vodka from BevMo). No, Elsa Pataky announced on Instagram that she and Thor Hemsworth named their 4-day-old twin boys Tristan and Sasha. No middle names? Quickly nerds! Start an online petition! There’s still a chance we could get Thor and Loki!
So Chris and Elsa’s three kids are named India, Tristan, and Sasha, which means they’re either huge fans of melodramatic CW shows about affluent Malibu teens, porn stars not named Nikki, or unisex haircuts from 1998. Either way, if they ever decided to open a fancy faux-boho clothing store that sells $400 spirit beads to rich bitches to wear at Coachella, they should have no problem registering Tristan & Sasha India as the business name.
And if you’re asking yourself “Who?”, let me be the first to congratulate you on having a job. But for those of you who are unemployed and still asking “Who?” then I need to know what you’re doing with your day. Doesn’t everybody bookend Maury with The View and The Chew? I know; never has a sentence so accurately described the feeling of giving up into a pair of sweatpants.
Us Weekly says that Daphne Oz, host of The Chew and daughter of poo-obsessed Diet Coke hater Dr. Oz, appeared on The Chew via Skype today to announce the name of the baby girl she gave birth to a little less than a week ago. The baby’s full name is Philomena Bijou Jovanovic, but Daphne and her husband have already started calling her “Philo” and “PBJ”.
I can’t get behind Philo because that flaky phyllo shit is too fancy for my trashy tastes; I’m more of an exploding can of nearly-expired Pillsbury crescent dough kind of girl myself. But as someone who considers dessert 6 out of 7 nights a week to be a jar of Kraft and a long-handled spoon, I happily give them two greasy thumbs up for PBJ. Again, I just described the feeling of sweatpants.
And tune in to Dr. Oz next week when that snack-hating hater tells you the 6 hidden cancer-causing ingredients found in peanut butter.