Chelsea Handler isn’t the kind of bitch to miss out on an opportunity to show her ass (and I mean that in more ways than one), so she used that cover of Paper Magazine (or as you call it, The Cover That Your Motherfucking Not Right Ass Won’t Stop Hitting My Eyes With) as an excuse to Instagram a selfie of her nalgas. Chelsea continued to fight for her right to show her nakedness on Instagram and posted a picture of the ass that Jennifer Aniston does tequila shots off of when they’re partying in Cabo. Chelsea also let everyone know that her ass is all-natural and hasn’t been touched by a Photoshop tool or a jumbo syringe full of clear soil jelly. It truly is National Make An Ass Out Of Yourself Day.
Can you believe more than 2 ass can fit on the same screen? Guess which one’s real. Your move, instagram.
Chelsea slapped at Instagram, because when she posted a picture of her bare tits next to Putin’s bare tits, they took it down three times. Chelsea queefed up the picture of her nipples again today and asked Instagram why it’s okay for a certain fame whore to post her naked body, but it’s not okay for her to do it.
Just so I’m clear, Instagram…it’s ok to use nudity to sexualize yourself on your site, but not to make a joke? I’m just so confused.
Chelsea probably secretly wishes that Instagram will keep taking her pictures down so she can rebel against them by showing us more of her naked ass body, but I’m all for her #FREETHECRACK campaign if she gets hos whose asses I actually want to see to join the fight with her. I’m talking to you, Anderson Cooper, Prince Hot Ginge, Idris Elba, Carrot Top, ASkars and literally anybody besides Kummy Kakes and Chelsea.
UPDATE: Now TMZ is saying that the LAPD talked to Charlie’s dentist and the dentist’s story is totally different from his technician’s story. Charges probably won’t be pressed. Charlie’s rep says that he wasn’t high on “rock cocaine,” but he did have a freak out in the chair. Charlie’s on pain meds for a shoulder injury and his meds mixed with nitrous made his body flail around. He knocked a tray over but didn’t slap anyone. Charlie’s rep says the technician is getting revenge on him because she was fired on Friday for violating HIPPA laws by telling her son that Charlie was in the office. That info somehow got back to Charlie and the dentist fired her. This story still doesn’t make sense, but it’s Charlie Sheen we’re talking about. It might seem a little excessive that she was fired for telling a family member that Charlie Sheen was in the office, but maybe it wasn’t, because her son could’ve definitely sold that info since Charlie Sheen going to an actual dentist to have his nasty teeth worked on IS breaking news. Now here’s the original story:
I know, I’m surprised the dentist didn’t pull a knife on him first. If Charlie Sheen opened his crusty mouth hole in front of you, you’d reach for something sharp, because his breath probably smells like the inside of a hobo’s ass and you never know what kind of mutated gingivitis creature is going to jump out at you.
TMZ says that the LAPD is investigating a situation that went down at Charlie Sheen’s dentist’s office last Thursday. Just like most of us, Charlie “allegedly” did rock cocaine before going to the dentist (HA at me typing “allegedly“), because a visit with the dentist is way more tolerable when you’re cracked out. Charlie was at the dentist to get an abscess removed. Charlie IS an abscess but that’s besides the point. The dental technician told police that while administering him with nitrous oxide, he went crazy and slapped her. The technician left the room as Charlie’s bodyguards went in. Charlie’s dentist and oral surgeon were in the room with his bodyguard. She heard a bunch of chaos before the dentist came out of the room and told her that the formerly winning, tiger-blooded warlock pulled a knife on his ass and went after him. Maybe in his coke rock and nitrous-induced haze, Charlie thought his dentist was Brooke Mueller? If you’re thinking that the fighting skills of a cracked out warlock on nitrous oxide can’t be that great, you’re right. The dentist wasn’t hurt.
Five years ago, Detective Courtney Love and her sidekick Professor Adderall searched the foggy cobblestone streets (read: got all the way high while watching Scooby Doo) for the blatant thieves who stole $30 million in cash and $500 million in property from Kurt Cobain’s estate. Well, after Detective Courtney and Professor Adderall searched under every
crack rock and checked every corner of the crack house world, they finally raised their magnifying glasses on the criminal mastermind who lifted millions from Kurt Cobain’s estate. Detective Courtney Love discovered that Detective Courtney Love is the one who took all that money. PLOT TWIST (not really)! If this was an episode of Murder, She Wrote and Jessica Fletcher just announced that it was Courtney Love who used a shovel to scoop out millions of dollars from the checking account of Kurt Cobain’s estate, the camera would pan to everybody in the room slowly combusting inside from SHOCK.
Cracked Out Courtney tells The Daily Mail (via Page Six) that yeah, she burned through $27 million throughout the years, but it’s really not that big of a deal, because it’s not like she made that money and think of all the South Americans who make pennies an hour from cooking up the bad shit that she buys by the truck load. They should call Courtney “madre“! Because Courtney’s brain has melted into a thick puddle of sticky delusion, she thinks that $27 million is only a lifetime of money to people. But Courtney isn’t crying over all those lost millions, because she has enough money to pay her back alley pharmacists, so she’s cool. »
Since Allison’s Canadian, she should really be handling this one, but she’s not around right now, because she’s standing outside of Mayor McCrackie’s mansion with a sign that reads, “I STAND BY CRACKIE.” Or maybe she’s out celebrating the fact that the streets of Toronto are safe again since Rob Ford is drying out in rehab.
Everyone’s favorite pussy-eating, crack-smoking mayor announced tonight that he’s taking a leave of absence to get treatment for a “substance abuse” problem and that substance is either crack or pussy, but I’m going to take a wild guess that it’s crack. Rob Ford didn’t decide on his own that he should finally roll on into rehab to try to kick his hunger for crack. A new crack-smoking video and a new drunken audio clip helped him make that decision. The Globe and Mail says that a sequel to Rob Ford’s unreleased crack-smoking video from last year is making the rounds and they’ve seen it. The video was shot by a dealer in Rob Ford’s sister’s basement at around 1am on Saturday. The dealer claims he’s got three videos of Rob Ford smoking crack and he wants six figures for all of them. That dealer must’ve inhaled a whole lot of second-hand crack smoke, because bitch is crazy for thinking those videos are worth six figures. That shit isn’t even worth six pennies. I’ve heard so many stories about Rob Ford smoking crack that I feel like I’ve already seen him smoking crack. And in his sister’s basement? I guess a family that smokes crack together, stays togethers. (“That’s right!” – White Oprah)
The Toronto Sun says that on Monday night Rob Ford was at his most Rob Ford-iest at a bar in Etobicoke. When Rob Ford wasn’t trying to fight with people at the bar, he was downing tequila and talking shit about his wife and his mayoral opponent Karen Stintz. Someone at the bar secretly taped Rob and gave the clip to The Toronto Sun (you can hear it here).
The audio recording, covertly taped by a patron of Sullie Gorman’s Monday night, captures the mayor being unruly as he’s ordering booze at the Royal York Rd. bar, complaining about his wife Renata and making lewd comments about mayoral contender Karen Stintz.
“I’d like to f—–g jam her (Stintz), but she doesn’t want … I can’t talk like this…I’m so sorry,” Ford is heard saying on the recording. “I forgot there’s a woman in the house.”
According to one witness, Ford was seen buying shooters and tequila and trying to fight with patrons Monday.
“He was really wasted,” said the witness. “And he was acting like a real ass.”
Rob’s currently campaigning for reelection in October and he said that his team is hoping he won’t drop out. As the crack dealers of Toronto softly weeped while walking toward the unemployment line, Rob released a long ass statement and here’s a piece of it:
Today, after taking some time to think about my own well-being, how to best serve the people of Toronto and what is in the best interests of my family, I have decided to take a leave from campaigning and from my duties as Mayor to seek immediate help.
I have tried to deal with these issues by myself over the past year. I know that I need professional help and I am now 100% committed to getting myself right.
I love the people of Toronto, I love being your mayor and I hope you will continue to stand by me.
We all know what’s going to happen next. After Rob Ford gets out of rehab, Oprah’s going to interview him and give him a docu-series on OWN. I can’t wait to see the waterfalls of sweat trickle down his face when Oprah tells him to cut the bullshit. And it’s times like these when I really miss Chris Farley. Think of the skits he could’ve done on SNL. Think of the skits.
Greta the Gremlin’s shady pill-gobbling half-sister, Lindsay Lohan, accidentally took a wrong turn on her way to the human ashtray convention and drunkenly wandered onto the set of The Late Show Wednesday night. While there, she sat with David Letterman (in a chair that was later fumigated to hell and back, then mercifully destroyed) to talk about the reality show that will surely sweep every category at this year’s Delusional Dirtbag Emmys, Lindsay (aka the weekly reminder that your parents did alright with you and you should send them a Blue Mountain e-card).
Since Blohan’s version of Jiminy Cricket is a tiny stupid crackhead who turns tricks inside her ratty weave, it shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone when she answered the question David asked about the editing on her show by throwing massive amounts of freckled shade at Saint Oprah and the Saviour Crew at OWN. Remember Sunday’s episode where the Apricot Ashtray fucks up a meeting with a Sony executive in LA and gets called out for boozing? She didn’t actually say some of those things! Her words were taken out of context! It’s all meant to create drama for the show! They just want ratings! It’s all a conspiracy! (Snnooooooorrrtttt) I’m sober! Where’s my money? Oprah? I need money! Ow, did I just step on a glass pipe?
At which point, Lindsay’s crackhead conscience sounded the ‘YOU’RE BROKE, BITCH’ alarm (it sounds a little something like this) and screamed at her to start kissing Oprah’s ass again. So Lindsay convinced David Letterman to call up Oprah, because remember? She talks to Oprah every day! In a move of total perfect cuntiness, Oprah told David and the Late Show audience that the little grifter that could is “doing okay” followed by asking him “What do you think?” Oh Oprah. Anyone with a set of working eyeballs and the ability to detect vodka and mouthwash cocktails knows that the answer to that question. You shady bitch.
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.
I made the mistake of watching some of the live-feed of Lady CaCa’s performance at SXSW last night and I closed my laptop after about 15 minutes and watched House Hunters International instead, because if I wanted to see a dirty crackhead flail around while incoherently spewing shit about art and the death of pop music, I’d take the subway in NYC at 4am. Actually, at any time of the day. Yes, CaCa is stealing from subway crackies now.
During “Swine,” CaCa played the drums while professional barfist Millie Brown, who’s been called the barfing Jackson Pollock, drank soy milk dyed bright green from a plastic bottle. This is Millie’s thing. She’s known for spewing colored vomit on canvases. So while looking like Brooke Candy as one of the Matrix Twins, CaCa leaned back and let Millie puke out Slimer’s piss all over her. CaCa has said before that she was bulimic as a teenager, so getting barfed on for the sake of shocking hos was a really good idea. (“Choke on your own rotting shit, you diseased old cow, she’s obviously using art to work through the issues and demons that have haunted her!” – every Little Monster to me)
Because CaCa and Millie weren’t done grossing everyone out, they took their raver exorcism act to a mechanical bull and kept the puke antics coming. ART!
Well, it could’ve been worse. CaCa could’ve sang “Do What U Want” while her best friend Uncle Terry jacked off on her face and her former collaborator R. Kelly pissed on her stomach. But I guess that would’ve been reductive.
And Doritos, who sponsored CaCa’s set, should really ask for their money back. That barf should’ve been burnt orange instead of bright green. Totally off brand.
“Um, is that a new kind of coke? Why hasn’t my dealer told me about that one. I’ll kill him!” - LiLo
Last night, OWN shat out the trailer for their reality show, which should be called Lindsay: I’m Just Doing This For The Check (alternate title: Oprah: I’m Just Doing This For The Ratings), and it shows us Lindsay Lohan in a completely different light! By that I mean we see her in daylight. We usually see her trolling the dark streets at nighttime.
The first part shows us the broken ginger record queefing at the mouth about how she’s sick of being a drunken mess, White Oprah with her head stuck all the way up her culo, Michael Lohan being the oozing pussy pimple that he is and more of the same crap we’ve all seen and heard a million times before. The second part is The Mighty O slapping LiLo’s crackie zombie face with some truth after that mess does what she always does. Before Oprah gives it to LiLo straight, there’s a scene of her in her chariot with my favorite, Sherry Ensalada, and Sherry tells her about how Lilo has been a pain in everyone’s taint. Oprah says, “This is exactly what everybody said was going to happen and I believed differently.” Aunt Bunny, can I get GUURRRL PLEASE?! Oprah knew LiLo was going to be unreliable and she probably wanted LiLo to be unreliable, so she could sweep in and tell that mess off in front of the cameras and everyone would be like, “You tell her, Oprah! You always speak the truth, Oprah! You’re everyone’s savior, Oprah!” Oprah, YOU need to cut the bullshit. (Future headline: Skinny Fat Gay Blogger Goes Missing – A Pillar Of Salt Found In Front Of His Desk)
With all that being said, I’m still going to watch every second of this same old shit mess, because the sober coach’s down eyes followed by an, “ummmm,” when he’s asked if LiLo’s still sober SOLD ME.
And LiLo totally sold herself short when she said, “I know this is my last shot of doing what I love to do.” She still has plenty of years of stealing necklaces and slapping hos in clubs ahead of her!
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)
Bill Clinton Wet Humped On Elizabeth Hurley, So Says Tom Sizemore (UPDATE: Tom Sizemore Made It All Up )
UPDATE: Tom Sizemore admits to HuffPo that he’s never met Bill Clinton and was most likely high out of his mind when he told that fake story. Tom says the tape is really old and the story is not true. Meanwhile, Bill Clinton probably DM’d Elizabeth Hurley on Twitter and asked, “Care to make it true? I’ll bring the cigars.”
Noted lady beater and meth head Tom Sizemore tells Radar and the Globe (THE GLOBE!!!) that all the way back in 1998, he set President Slick Willy up with Elizabeth Hurley and the two boned on each other for a full year in the White House. Bill Clinton has always been a slut, so I totally believe that he strengthened American and British relations by fucking Elizabeth Hurley, but this is coming from Tom Sizemore. Tom Sizemore is about as reliable as my gossiping tia who for years swore to me that her burgundy hair was natural.
Radar says that in a joint investigation with the Globe, they UNEARTHED a recording from January of Tom Sizemore talking about how he hooked President Clinton up with Liz Hurley in one night. They call it a “joint investigation,” because they gave Tom Sizemore 20 joints in exchange for the UNEARTHED recording he probably recorded by himself in the bathroom five minutes beforehand. In the recording, Tom says that during a screening of Saving Private Ryan at the White House in 1998, Bill Clinton took him aside and asked him if he still talked to Liz Hurley. (Tom Sizemore and Liz Hurley dated for a few years.) Tom Sizemore goes on to spit out more meth-infused details and the dialogue is a mess.
When Sizemore confirmed they had dated but were no longer together, he says the President asked for her number.
Stunned at the suggestion, Sizemore admitted to being somewhat hesitant to dole out the digits, but claims Clinton insisted: “Give it to me. You dumb motherfucker, I’m the Commander-in-Chief of the United States of America. The buck stops here. Give me the damn number.”
The actor obliged, but before dialing, he says the President was already covering his tracks, thinking of his oblivious and long-suffering wife Hillary in the other room.
“[Clinton] said, ‘I’m going to say I asked you about your uncle, Ted Sizemore, who played professional baseball,” Sizemore recalls. “That’s the lie. Don’t forget it.’”
Then, Sizemore recounts, Clinton dialed, wasting no time in getting down to dirty business with the stunning brunette, now 48.
“Elizabeth, this is your Commander-in-Chief,” Clinton said to the actress, who played Vanessa Kensington in the 1997 hit Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery.
And though Hurley at first thought it was a joke, she played coy, but the President wouldn’t take no for an answer!
Clinton said, “Listen Elizabeth, this is the President!” Sizemore recalls. “‘I don’t have any time for this shit. I‘m keeping the world from nuclear war all the time. I’m sending a plane to pick you up.”
Hours later, he claims, Hurley was at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.
“While we’re at the reception, I see her,” Sizemore reveals, but then she disappeared through a door, trailed by a Secret Service agent.
As she disappeared into a room with the President, Sizemore charges, “Bill turns to me and he goes, ‘I owe you one.’”
As to what happened after that, Sizemore declares on the tape: “What do you think? She was there for four days. He fucked her that night.”
Tom adds that Bill and Liz did it for a year, but he broke it off with her, because he was falling in love with her and he “doesn’t do love.” Liz Hurley said that the story is “ludicrous” and claims the lawyers are handling it.
If anybody but Tom Sizemore told that story, I’d one hundred percent believe it. But when Tom Sizemore opens his mouth, either barf, lies or a little of both are going to fall out. A talking crack house rat probably told Tom that story while he smoked crack out of a light bulb. You know, if the talking crack house rat directly told the Globe that story, I’d believe it was true.
I mean, that dialogue. That dialogue sounds like it was written by the worst porn writer in the San Fernando Valley. Wait, since I put it that way, maybe Tom is telling the truth. Because I totally believe that when Bill Clinton’s talking about ass, he sounds like he’s in the most poorly written porn ever.