While looking like a malnourished and derpy bumblebee that flew into a cup of Tang, Denise Richards left a Rite Aid in Calabasas, CA yesterday with Easter shit and a whole lot of bags of circus peanuts which she’s going to melt down and slather onto her skin so she stays the exact shade of Sean Penn’s leathery orange ass lips. Yes, Denise looks like Tan Mom’s overcooked clit and she’s skinnier than the vein on a fly’s dick, but I guess you too wouldn’t really want to put food in your mouth and would lose your appetite if you had Charlie Sheen’s split-open herp sore of a face screaming at you on a daily basis.
Charlie Sheen is threatening to stop Denise’s child support and he’s trying to kick her and his girls out of the house he owns, because his skank trash fiancee is jealous of her. So one of the dangers of dealing with Charlie’s crazy is that it’ll leave you looking like a roasted baby carrot.
I know, for a quick second, my eyes thought that was an old picture of Sam Kinison too.
Well, I guess it’s Twins Who Are Totally Screwed In Life week. First, we find out that oozing douche sore Joe Francis is going to be a father to twin daughters and now Radar is saying that Brooke Mueller’s got custody of her twin boys again. What next set of twins is going to be hit with tragedy? Somewhere in France, the chosen ones, Vivienne and Knox Jolie-Pitt, showed up to a toy store with their nannies to buy more toys since they obviously don’t have enough and it was closed. They wouldn’t even open up for them. It truly is the worst week for twins!
Last year, while Brooke Mueller was drying out in rehab for the 20th time, Denise Richards took care of her and Charlie Sheen’s twin boys, Max and Bob, since Charlie can’t even be trusted to take care of a broken crack pipe. After having the boys for a while, Denise wrote a letter to the Department of Children and Family Services telling them that Bob and Max have beat her girls, hit a teacher and were close to murdering her dogs. Denise also said that after visiting with Brooke one weekend, one of the boys came back with a bruise on his face. Brooke also wouldn’t let Denise take the boys to a shrink. It was a total mess. It got messier when the boys were placed with Brooke’s brother and they all moved into her house with her. Well, Brooke’s brother can move out now, because she’s got custody of the boys and is getting that Charlie Sheen money again. As the crack dealers sing “Happy Days Are Here Again,” some source dribbled out this drop of doom to Radar:
“Brooke was recently granted full custody of Bob and Max by a child dependency judge after it was deemed that she had complied with all of the terms set forth by the Los Angeles County Department of Children & Family Services. Moving forward, Brooke won’t have to undergo random drug tests. DCFS will keep in contact with Brooke and check up on the boys, but there will be no unannounced visits. As far as Child Protective Services is concerned, Brooke has made a successful recovery, and is now ready to be the legal custodial parent for the boys. Family reunification is always the goal in these types of cases. Splitting up a family, take children away from either the mother or father, only happens in extreme cases of neglect and abuse.”
No drug testing and a monthly check from Charlie Sheen…. I know some of you are thinking that this is going to end about as well as having bareback butt sex right after eating Korean BBQ. But who knows? Maybe 20th time’s a charm and Brooke will become a devoted mother who will rub her son’s tummies when their sick and bake cookies for PTA meetings. Or she’ll take that Charlie Sheen money and shack up with her crack dealer in a room at a Super 8 in Van Nuys while her boys are left at home by themselves to be raised by the backyard possums. That wouldn’t be the worst thing, actually. I mean, possums are totally good moms.
Trade those fancy shopping bags for sticks with handkerchief bags tied to the end of them and that might be Denise Richards and her daughter if that ass stain Charlie Sheen gets his way.
Earlier this year, Radar said that Charlie Sheen’s current full-time whore and future ex-wife Brett Rossi is jealous of Denise Richards and wants him to kick Denise and his girls out of the house he owns so she can drive by and let out a cold cunt cackle as they’re all dragging their belongings out of there. Denise has lived a few houses away from Charlie’s house of porn poon and crack for years and she hasn’t moved because she doesn’t want to pull her daughters out of their school. Radar says that Charlie has gotten the lawyers involved and sent Denise an eviction letter. Charlie’s rotting ground vulture meat of a heart wants Denise and his girls out and doesn’t care if they have to sell dirt pies on the side of the road to pay rent on their next house. Radar’s source burped this up:
“Charlie’s lawyers have advised Denise it’s time to move out of the Mulholland Estates mansion. He has claimed to have a buyer for the home lined up. Charlie wants Denise and the girls out — right away. Put simply, he doesn’t seem to care where Denise moves to. Brett convinced Charlie to sell the mansion, arguing that Denise has cut off access to their daughters, why should he allow her to live in the house for free? “Charlie hasn’t spent any significant time with the girls in several months and thinks it’s ridiculous that he continue to pay Denise $55,000.”
You know that special place Hell they always talk about? They just renamed it the Charlie Sheen Suite.
How many times does that ripped-off taint sore need to threaten to throw Denise’s ass out before she uses some of that mountain of cash he gave her in a divorce settlement to buy her own damn mansion? If she doesn’t have the cash, she can easily get it. All she has to do is throw a fake stache on her younger kid’s face. Then put that younger kid on the shoulders of the older kid and throw a trench coat over them. Send them over to Charlie Sheen’s house with a wheelbarrow full of white landscape rocks from Home Depot. The young one will introduce “himself” as Charlie’s new crack dealer and make Charlie sign a purchase slip before getting his regular daily order. Charlie will be so cracked out into another dimension that he won’t know that he’s really signing over the deed to the house that Denise Richards lives in to her! The house will be hers! Blehehehehe, it’s a crackhead-proof plan.
Because Charlie Sheen is a pill-fried lunatic, it should come as no surprise to anyone that he got balls-to-the-walls insane while on vacation in Mexico over Christmas and New Years. While the rest of us choose to waste our vacations “reading” (the code word I use for getting drunk and taking a nap in the pool) Radar says Charlie Sheen was YOLO-ing it up and making memories that will last a lifetime. Sorry, did I say making memories? I meant to say causing thousands of dollars worth of property damage and eating his weight in pills:
Shortly after his arrival in town, Sheen’s camp summoned a local tattoo artist and his friends to his suite at the five-star Hotel El Ganzo — and what they found there stunned them. “As soon as we get to the place, his bodyguard opens the door and invites us in,” one of Sheen’s guests tells Radar. “Charlie is seen standing at the table… on the table are bottles of vodka, cigarettes strewn everywhere, a handful of Vicodins… He takes a few and chases it with vodka.”
“What’s up f**gots?’ he says as he notices us enter the room,” the source dished. “We all meet Charlie and after he tells us about the tattoo he wants. We sit down to get started. Halfway through this tattoo, he takes some more Vicodin,” the source claimed. “[Then] without warning, Charlie punches a hole in the wall in front of him. He would later sign his name above the hole.”’
Before long, the source said, it became clear that Sheen was “really f*cked up. He strips down to his boxers and proceeds to set his shorts on fire!”
You’d think this episode of True Tales of Lizard-Faced Terror ends with Charlie lighting his crusty Hanes on fire, but – doye – we’re talking about Charlie, not Emilio (I know, Coach Bombay would NEVER). Shortly after, Charlie dares one of the male tattoo artists to kiss him for $1000. Knowing that putting your mouth on Charlie Sheen’s toxic maw would quite literally be the Kiss of Death, he declines. Undeterred, Charlie then offers him $10,000 for a kiss, but again, he declines. So if you were thinking of putting money on this years recipient of the Nobel Prize for Excellence In Making Good Fucking Decisions, I’d say the guy who turned down $10,000 to kiss Charlie Sheen’s crack-hole is a sure thing.
Someone needs to sit down with Charlie Sheen’s porn star fiancé (that sounds like an unpopular Vivid title) Brett Rossi, and school her on the subtleties of gold digging, because homegirl is coming across a little sloppy. Brett must have skipped the class at Make Dat Money University where you learn that a good gold digger lets the steam cool on her 24K crack rock before holding your hand out and demanding more, because Radar says she’s already begging for a two decades worth of paycheques in the form of a baby:
“Brett wants to start a family with Charlie immediately,” an insider tells Radar. “She doesn’t want to wait to have kids, and thinks Charlie will be an amazing father.”
Sheen is already a father of six. But in the midst of the custody drama surrounding his twins with ex-wife Brooke Mueller, Max and Bob, Sheen “isn’t quite ready to become a father for the sixth time,” the source explains. “He definitely wants kids with Brett, but he doesn’t want to rush into it. This is the one thing they can’t seem to agree on!”
Jesus, it’s Clickety Clack, not Stompity Stomp, Brett; if you want #datmoney you need to play it smart and play it quiet. First you tell Charlie you want kids, but “Way, way in the future” and make that hand gesture that looks like you’re swatting away money. Then you let some time pass; typically 3-5 months, but I bet Charlie’s crack-fried cockroach brain is no longer able to comprehend the passing of time, so you could just wait 3-5 weeks. During this time, stop taking birth control and start practicing your best “Whoopsies, I’m pregnant!!” face in the mirror. There you go, you just won the 18-year-long lottery.
And the sad thing is, I have never dug for gold in my life and yet I’m already a million times better at it than a porn star. Get your shit together and stop being so obvious, Brett Rossi, or you’ll find yourself pawning that engagement ring to pay for your portion of the rent on the Studio City bachelor apartment you share with the Goddesses.
Today, we should all be mad at the wind for not knocking those two whores off of that cliff when it had the chance. We are all disappointed in you, wind.
But seriously, I should turn off the hate and pat porn star Brett Rossi on the taint for a job well done, because after months of sucking and fucking on Charlie Sheen’s over-cooked penne dick, she is finally one step closer to achieving her gold digger mission. Yesterday, the scent of “true love” smelled like crack pipe residue and dick scabs when Charlie asked Brett Rossi to be his future fourth ex-wife while on vacation in Hawaii. Because Brett knows that she’ll be set up for life if she just marries his nasty ass and pops out a few of his spawn, she said yes. In the crack-infused statement he gave to People, Charlie says that technically Brett will be his third wife since his marriage to his first wife Donna Peel was annulled.
“With all due respect to Donna –
that maiden Klay-Vinn was annulled.
truly is a charm;
of the real CS,
(Charlie & Scottie)
HAS to be;
Since Charlie’s relationship history is filled with nothing but pure healthiness, I’m sure these two skanks will have a not-at-all fucked up marriage and in 30 years they’ll be sipping virgin mint juleps on the porch of their house while watching their not-at-all fucked up children play with their not-at-all fucked up grandchildren. Or it’ll end with Brett making a tourniquet out of a shower curtain in a locked hotel bathroom after Charlie “accidentally” shot her leg. Either way, #getmoneybitch! But maybe Brett should wear a head-to-toe bulletproof suit while doing so.
And TMZ has pictures of Brett’s engagement ring if you really need to see it. I didn’t know that crack rocks could get so pretty and shiny when you polish them up.
(Pic via @thebrettrossi)
And I would like both of them to shut up, but the universe hates me and never grants any of my wishes (yet still, I sit every night on my windowsill and sing Somewhere Out There after hitting send on my emails to Pizza Hut begging them for Doritos-crust pizza). Luckily, I don’t have to deal with Charlie Sheen tweeting me insults, so…life’s little mercies, I suppose. Unfortunately, Ashton Kutcher isn’t as lucky. During an interview with Jimmy Kimmel on Wednesday night, Ashton was asked about Two and a Half Men and if he still felt like the new guy on set. But since there’s an unwritten rule that you can’t talk about Two and a Half Men without mentioning the cirrhosis-bloated ghost of Ricky Vaughn, Jimmy then asks if Ashton goes into work every day and they thank him for not being Charlie Sheen. He started to make a sort-of joke, but then decided to look directly at the camera and address Sheen personally:
“I’m going to publicly plea right now with Charlie. Dude, shut the fuck up! Like, seriously! Enough already! It’s like 3 years later and you’re still blowing me up on Twitter? Come on dude, really?”
Literally the only thing I took from that plea is that he said the word ‘dude’ twice and NOT ONCE followed it up with “…where’s my car?” Afterwards, reliable ol’ Charlie got around to addressing Ashton’s request on Twitter, and true to recent form, he responded through some kind of first-year college free-verse poem:
Ashton message received. so sorry u sounded like me! well done! my bad I was pissed at other crap & took it out on you. hope u r good xox c
— Charlie Sheen (@charliesheen) February 6, 2014
Aww, that’s nice; it takes a real man to step up and admit he was wrong. Good for you Charlie! It’s not every day you manage to come off sounding like a reasonable, level-headed – oh wait, there’s more? Okay, I’m sure it’s just as thoughtful:
but news flash Dood, you ever tell me to shut the F*** up, EVER again, and I'll put you on a hospital food diet for a year. c #YaFeelMe Jr?
— Charlie Sheen (@charliesheen) February 6, 2014
Never mind, I take it back; something tells me Ashton’s request was taken about as seriously as when your dentist asks you to start flossing (“Oh yeah, sure. Every night, I promise” – said no one).
According to Radar, Charlie Sheen ordered his people to kick Denise Richards, her dad Irv and his three daughters out of the house that they live in and he owns, because the porn star whose asshole he’s snorting coke bumps out of wants her out. Charlie owns a few houses in Mulholland Estates including the one Denise lives in. Charlie’s current porn star piece Brett Rossi is jealous of Denise and she turns green every time she drives by Denise’s house. Yes, she probably turns green, because that’s a side effect of slurping on the toxic sludge that spills out of Charlie’s dick, but jealousy probably has something to do with it too. So Brett snapped her pussy lips and told Charlie to get rid of the bitch.
Charlie didn’t tell Denise himself, because their love-hate relationship is currently set to HATE. Charlie hasn’t talked to Denise since she ruined Christmas for him. The source spit out this shit:
“She complains that whenever she leaves the gated community, she is forced to drive by Denise’s house, and she just doesn’t like it. Charlie’s people told Denise he wants her out, and he didn’t tell her because they aren’t talking at the moment.”
The crackhead Maya Angelou seemed to respond to Radar’s story this morning by tweeting out a messy haiku (emphasis on HAI) about how he owns the farm and Denise Richards is merely a pig in his pen who kicks up shit with her “evil cloven hoofs.” Brett Rossi spat up her own open letter on Twitter, which is obviously about this messy situation. Here’s a piece of that shit:
Lastly, if YOU would like to meet up with MG and discuss how I can help the children have a happy & loving relationship with BOTH sides, I am more than willing to do so. I am only here to enhance things such as the note that was so delicately, respectfully & beautifully written to you. I don’t care about the ‘adult’ side of things, that is on you such as I have never cared to invest energy into things that are a waste of energy. Think about the babies & not ones own frustration or disagreements. It should always be about THEM. You protest privacy yet running to the press doesn’t make you exactly a saint. If you want something from someone, I was raised to display the respect before it is earned. I ask, respectfully, to please keep my name out of your mouth such as I respectfully have ALWAYS done for you without any hesitation.
Well, Brett can’t put Denise’s name in her mouth, because Charlie’s wet cheese stick dick is always in there.
What I don’t understand is, didn’t Denise get a mountain of cash in her divorce from Charlie? So why is she living in one of his houses? Why would you live in a house that Charlie owns? At any second, that crackhead could burst in and tell you to get the fuck out, because he lost the house in a gambling bet or gave it to the head of a sex trafficking ring in exchange for two barely legal girls from Eastern Europe.
I was going to say “poor kids,” but those girls have probably heard it, seen it and smelled it all and they’re used to Denise telling them, “We have to go now, because daddy’s whore wants us out.”
While the childhood of Charlie Sheens’ twins continues to be eaten by crack smoke as they act out by choking innocent dogs and little children, their father was focused on much more important matters: tweeting about Phil Robertson and Denise Richards. On Saturday, the warlock of crack chewed off Phil Robertson’s hillbilly beard with his gums, wiped his dirty ass with it and glued it back on Phil Robertson’s face. Charlie Sheen straight-up took a crack-laced shit in Phil Robertson’s jug of moonshine for spewing all that trash about man anuses. Charlie slapped at Phil the only way he knows how: with an eloquent open poem. Charlie’s open poem to Phil Robertson is long and you might have to swallow a cloud of crack smoke to fully understand it, but it is filled with a few coke-dusted gems. It’s after the cut. “Shower dodger” should totally be added to Kristen Stewart’s business card.
Well-marinated piece of grizzle Charlie Sheen is pissed at ex-wife Denise Richards for excluding him in holiday plans with their children, according to TMZ. Denise supposedly told Charlie over the weekend that he is not welcome to go on vacation with her, Sam and Lola but didn’t give him a reason. Charlie hopped into the ninth circle of hell known as Twitter and wrote this message about the situation:
Charlie whining about being treated like crap is meh. He’s off fingering porn stars on vacation instead of spending Thanksgiving with his kids, so there’s more of a shot of me spontaneously growing a dick of my own to hang donuts off of than finding any sympathy for him. What I am impressed with is the fact that he reached into 1998 and the Mike Dexter bag of tricks to pull out that spectacular “DuhNeese” comeback. If he wasn’t so gross and vile and filled with the three c’s (crazy, chlamydia and cuntbag), I might have fallen in love.
NOW imagine fellow hooker lover Vince with SlapChop saying, “Wait, there’s more!!!” because there is and it’s spectacular. Charlie also posted a picture of one of the favors from his wedding to Denise cut into pieces with a rusty knife and the best part is, it’s a meat bat. A bat made out of meat. A FUCKING MEAT BAT.
Everybody bow your heads and thank whatever universe juju you believe in that it wasn’t an actual picture of Charlie’s personal salami, then let’s go back to appreciating the absolute randomness of saying ‘til death or sex and drug addiction do you part before giving your guests souvenir meat.
The rest of Charlie’s Twitter page is entertaining if you’re interested in reading poems I’m 92% certain were written by a possessed, illiterate Mr. Spell. If he’s not busy when his old pal Lindsay Lohan gets around to publishing her
book of lies tell-all, Charlie should offer to write the book’s foreword for her, from one crackie to another. Nothing goes together quite like rampant lies and rambling streams of drug-fueled consciousness!