Brandi Glanville is sorry for being a drunk mess. So sorry she’s literally crying about it. Wow, relatable. We’ve been there. I mean, but usually when I’m crying about being a drunk mess my blood-alcohol level would confirm the behavior, but hey, what’s the point in messy paparazzi pics if you don’t milk them for all the dollars you can?
There are two things that I love about T.I.. One, that he married Tameka “Tiny” Cottle. And two, that he attempted to defend Tiny by allegedly whooping Floyd Mayweather in a Las Vegas Fatburger. When I saw the news that T.I. had been arrested for acting like a fool under the influence, my mind immediately pictured delicious pieces of cheeseburger shrapnel flying through the air. The reality of the situation is just a tad less exciting, and significantly more annoying for T.I.
Warning: you will definitely get second-hand drunk from watching this dash cam video of fresh Florida clementine Kate Major’s DUI arrest, so go grab the Flintstones Chewable Painkillers and a giant jug of Gatorade, because your brain will be begging for it once you’re done.
The police car dash cam of Kate Major’s arrest after her whirlwind Thursday evening spent drinking, fighting, more drinking, tweeting, more fighting, and drunk driving (aka just an average night at the home of Michael Lohan and Kate Major) has been released, and while it lacks the grand showmanship of other notable DUI videos, such as that of Laura Jeanne Poon’s, it makes up for it with subtlety and charm.
We open on Kate looking like a raunchy Fraggle in sweatpants, immediately denying that she’s been drinking. Good call Kate; it’s not like the police have a tool to test for that sort of thing. But they don’t need to administer a breathalyzer, because Kate pretty much confirms their suspicions that she’s been chasing the chardonnay dragon by bursting into tears and gargling out whatever random thoughts have been collecting in her lizard brain. Now, unless you like the sound of slurry drunk crying, you should skip to the 3:00 mark, because that’s where things take a turn down YAAAASSS road.
After Kate does the walk o’ sobriety without falling on her ass (something I can barely do while sober, so slow claps for you, Kate Major), you can tell she thinks she’s in the clear, but then she’s asked to recite her A-B-Cs and you can practically hear that sad trombone sound. Someone needs to sit her down and hook her ass on phonics, because she manages to hit everything between A and V, but oh boy, those last 4 letters. Twice she forgets what comes after T-U-V. And yet she gets L-M-N-O-P, the no-good troublemakers of the alphabet. It’s that damn W’s fault; ironic, considering wine and wasted both start with the letter W.
And I don’t know if Kate fucked up her A-B-Cs because she was drunk, or because she’s an idiot who legit doesn’t know them, but I think it might be the latter. I mean, she did mate with Michael Lohan.
I love it when the jokes write themselves. Shia LaBeouf is infamous for trying to bring the heat down on a bitch, and it usually ends up with him at the ER to have said bitch’s foot removed from his ass. This time is much different!! He had to have bitch’s foot removed from his vagina. Gossip Cop says that while walking through Leicester Square in London (he’s there to film Fury), Shia decided it was a great idea to film some girl while she was puking her guts up on the street. Such class acts, everyone involved.
According to the article, sisters Ash and Isis Nawaz were walking along when one of them “fell ill” (read: couldn’t handle her Mojitos) and luckily for them Shia was there to point and laugh at their asses while saving the moment for posterity’s sake. I don’t know much, but one thing I do know is that the pile of vomit had more character and tact in one lump than Shia has in his whole body.
Of course the women told Shia to gtfo, but he wasn’t having any of that until a bystander did what most of us can only dream of – he punched Shia in the face and kicked him in the peen hole!! Yaaaas!! Which raises the important question: where is the footage of that??? Anyone there with a cell phone missed an opportunity to make the world a better place. Shame on all of you. Anyway after club security broke up the mess, aka pulled the other dude off of Shia while he pretended that he was being held back, Shia carried his broke dick out of there.
Shia reminds me of my Grandma’s chihuahua that thinks she’s a pit bull. Bark on little bitch!
Well, we’re all Tamara Ecclestone without the zillions of dollars of daddy’s money, the $32 million London mansion, the lease agreement on a $125 million Holmby Hills mansion, the wonky nose job, the weave made from the manes of a dozen Arabian ponies, the zero sense of knowing what it’s like to actually earn a dollar for yourself and the anus covered with liquid platinum and canary diamonds (mine’s only covered with yellow-tinted Wite Out and plastic Barbie earrings). Okay, we’re all nothing like Tamara Ecclestone, but I’m sure this was most of us on New Year’s Eve. Replace the fancy bellman with the clerk at 7-Eleven and replace that fancy gold dress with a torn tank top and stained swim shorts, and that was me on New Year’s Eve! I’m pretty sure my mom was behind me making a “Did I actually give birth to a human whose drunk farts smell like that?!” face.
These pictures of the Nicky Hilton of Britain are from the early hours of 2013 (aka 2 days old), but in between yelling at the wild Hawaiian roosters for making rooster noises and making bitchfaces at the loud children at the pool in my mom’s timeshare, I missed them! So I’m bringing them to you way late, because I just can’t resist a picture of a drunk-eyed, messy ho who looks like a plastic Mufasa in bad Leona Lewis drag.
Anyway, I’m back from my Hawaiian vacation so I’d like raise a Bikini Blonde to Lahoma, Sweetas and J. Harvey for sprinkling the foolery on Dlisted while I was off getting a sunburn on my armpit (that happened somehow). And now that I’m back full-time expect 100% more eyebrow appreciation and 90% more grammatical errors. (Yes, I read your posts, J. Harvey. You’re the 10%!)
If you missed today’s episode of Dr. Phil with a high as three shades of hell White Oprah, then just take a smug bullfrog and a mangy alley dog hopped up on uppers, downers and middlers, and watch as the latter stares and giggles at the former until it passes out in a puddle of its own drool. Or just watch the supercut Vulture put together. Pharmacists should put the url of this video on the bottles of painkillers warning bitches on what can happen when you mix your pills with equal parts pills and delusion.
Dr. Phil started off the interview by saying that Lindsay Lohan’s pimp and enabler called up his producers to say that she wanted to show the world the real her. White Oprah showed us the real her alright and the real her is a slurring, pilled-up disaster who talks and lies just like her daughter. White Oprah didn’t want to talk about anything and I’m guessing she was only there because Dr. Phil put her up in a hotel and she wanted to swallow the mini bar whole.
Dr. Phil asked her about how Michael Lohan used to beat her, but she didn’t want to talk about that. Dr. Phil asked her about how Michael Lohan broke into her house, but she didn’t want to talk about that. Dr. Phil asked her about how Michael Lohan claims she stole $4,000 out of LiLo’s purse, but she didn’t want to talk about that. White Oprah just awkwardly giggled, pretend cried, commented on Dr. Phil’s shoes and kept asking if the cameras were rolling. Yes, the cameras are rolling, bitch, and so are you. You’re rolling on ecstasy, booze and whatever pills you stole from Nana Lohan’s medicine cabinet.
Meanwhile, Dr. Phil sat there like a condescending fart bubble and acted like he was concerned and cared, but he was totally squealing out rainbows on the inside, because he knew this mess would be ratings gold.
White Oprah asking Dr Phil “Can we pound to that?” and him turning her down sums up this whole smug vs. crazy train wreck. When you ask Dr. Phil if he wants to pound (any kind of pounding) and he turns you down, that confirms that there is a rock bottom under rock bottom and you’ve reached it.