Aspiring gold diggers of the world, drop your shovels, get on your knees and worship your new role model and goddess!
A Jena Maroney dream came to life at Vienna’s Schönbrunn palace over the weekend when alleged 24-year-old Cathy Schmitz, a German Playboy model, married 81-year-old Richard Lugner, an Austrian construction mogul. Richard Lugner is that crazy billionaire who pays a different famous trick a giant pile of money to be his date to the Vienna Opera Ball every year. Richard gave 5 cent heffa whore Kim Kardashian $500,000 to be his date to the Ball last year and after he made that crazy decision, his family should’ve forced him into a mental hospital. But this weekend, Richard proved that he can still make great decisions by marrying this graceful German flower after knowing her for 6 months. Richard told The Local at his wedding that Cathy, who has a young daughter, is his fifth wife and he hopes this one sticks:
“Hopefully, this time it’s the right thing. Apart from the big age difference everything fits. Of course I argued less when I was alone, but a man needs a partner.”
I know, I shouldn’t call Cathy a gold digging goddess just yet. Hopefully, Cathy has learned from Anna Nicole’s mistakes and is going to make sure she’s in that will. Because nothing is more tragic and heartbreaking than a gold digger ending up with a handful of nothing after she’s spent months and years sucking cum dust out of a grizzled dick that looks like a wrinkle-faced bat. What am I saying? Of course this is true love and those twinkles in her dead eyes aren’t from her looking at his face and seeing the future headline that reads: 25-Year-Old Playboy Model Inherits Dead Billionaire Husband’s Entire Fortune. It’s real love. Cathy isn’t marrying that old ho for his money. She obviously doesn’t care about money since she bought her wedding dress for $8 at Party City.
And here’s more pictures of the stunning bride, who kind of looks like a Luna Lovegod doll filled with helium, and the groom who looks like Oswald Cobblepot’s pepaw.
Aspiring gold diggers and low-level star fuckers rejoice! TMZ says that after four months of dating, current obnoxious network television showtune screamer and future Legends in Concert Barbra Streisand impersonator Lea Michele has made the dreams of her former trick-turning boyfriend Matthew Paetz come true by moving him out of his apartment and into her $1.4 million Hollywood home. Cut to all of Matthew’s former coworkers busting a celebratory nut in honor of Matthew’s flawless gold digging achievements.
A source claims that Matthew packed all his possessions into a U-Haul this weekend (a partially-used IKEA futon, 22 cheetah-print g-strings, a pack of Trojan Fire & Ice condoms, his client list) and moved in with his MILF-looking sugar mama. Next on his to-do list: quit his job (is “former hooker” a job?) so he can concentrate on executing his next gold digging move: trying to knock her up with a baby wannabe Barbra. You can do it Matthew! You’ve practically been training your whole life for this moment! I know you’ve got the house, but don’t get lazy Matthew; a good gold digger always keeps reaching for that dollar-covered rainbow!
I’m sure this crafty hooker thinks he’s hit the lottery, but he probably shouldn’t say sayonara to his shitty shared studio apartment in the valley just yet. He’s going to want a place to escape every day at 1pm when Lea gets day-drunk on boxed white wine and turns into her alter-ego, a horny middle-aged former stripper/aspiring Shih Tzu breeder named “Misty” who begs him to take her to Applebees for happy hours so they can role-play a game she calls ‘Sexy Cougar meets Desperate Gigolo’.
And here’s Lea and Matthew celebrating their terrible life decision/proud moment in shameless star fucking by calling the paps and going for a “hike” on Sunday. Lea truly has that new-hooker-roomate-attention-whore glow about her, doesn’t she? Or maybe that’s just the Urban Decay marshmallow-flavored body shimmer (cougars love edible body shimmer).
It is a great day for the makers of fake eyelashes for babies and for gold diggers who need some inspiration, because yesterday in a luxurious birthing suite in a hospital in L.A. somewhere, a baby was pulled out of Xtina’s body as her fiancé Matt Rutler did the Morristown, New Jersey “Happy” lottery winner dance and nurses prepared the rhinestone-covered staples that her doctor used to close up her C-section slit. Both People and UsWeekly say that 33-year-old Xtina gave birth to her second kid and Matt Rutler’s first. What a proud moment for Matt Rutler. I’d love to see his face beam with several layers of pride as he carefully held the membership card he got from The Gold Diggers Club for producing his first adorable ATM.
UsWeekly says that Xtina gave birth to her first daughter via C-section at Cedars-Sinai in L.A. That’s the only detail we have. The only detail any of us really care about (THAT KID’S NAME) is not known. I’m sure we’ll learn Xtina’s kid’s name when the Photoshopped-into-another-dimension pictures of her and her daughter getting their first spray-tan together come out in People in a couple of weeks. Xtina played it safe with her first kid, who’s now 6, by naming him Max. So hopefully she won’t disappoint us all again and she’ll really reach to new levels of baby name fuckery while naming her second kid.
I really hope Xtina pays tribute to her real love by naming her daughter Red Lipstick Aguilera. Better yet, I really hope Xtina throws my favorite name ever, “Concepción,” somewhere into her baby’s full name, because every time a famous whore gives birth, I always scream, “Please name it Concepción!” The world definitely needs more Concepcións in it.
I also can’t wait to see Bronzer Concepción Aguilera Rutler’s nursery, because it’s going to be a mess. This is what Max’s nursery looked like:
To this day, Max can’t look at a banana or a crescent moon without screaming in terror, because he spent so many of his first nights praying to God to not let that terrifying, dark-sided, busted brow-having banana moon eat his innocent soul whole.
That sound you just heard was a thousand thirsty gold diggers falling to their knees and screaming “YAAASSSSSS!” at top of their lungs to the Gold Digger Gods (in case you’re not familiar, the Gold Digger Gods are three slutty goddesses in Herve Leger bandage dresses named Jessica, Jenna, and Michelle who all got knocked up by Zeus with triplets and now own half of Mount Olympus). A little over two weeks ago, professional celebrity ex-wife Nicole Murphy called off her five-year engagement to Live! with Kelly and Michael’s Michael Strahan, and four days later it was revealed they were calling it quits because Michael allegedly couldn’t stop passing his peen around and/or Nicole refused to sign a prenup. It was truly a heartbreaking day for wallet humpers everywhere.
But just yesterday, TMZ spotted Nicole and Michael out for lunch in Beverly Hills, and it didn’t look like the kind of lunch that involved deciding who gets to keep the Vitamix. Nicole and Michael looked like they were on A DATE! Yes! Get money (and a free lunch) bitch!
Obviously getting a sangwich doesn’t mean two people are back together. But I’ve always been a hopeless romantic when it comes to gold digging, so I want to see these two work it out, especially when there’s millions of dollars worth of Live! with Kelly and Michael money on the line. Nicole needs to look at the bright side: yes, Michael wants you to sign a prenup so you don’t make off like a bank account-banging bandit when you decide to leave his ass and move on to greener pastures. But his last wife signed a prenup too, and she left with $15.3 million dollars. Don’t get greedy, girl; gold digging is a marathon, not a sprint. Always remember, prenup money is better than no money.
Courtney Stodden just threw herself onto a pile of dirty thongs and began weeping coagulated silicone tears into a ratty clump of $2 hair extensions, because she’s no longer the craziest gold-digging star-fucking jail bait fame whore on the block anymore. RIP, Porn Iguana; we hardly knew ye.
So just who is this daddy issues-having ho who has snatched away Courtney Stodden’s crown? According to Us Weekly, 57-year-old Ray Donovan actor (or Manny from Scarface, whichever brings up less of a “??????” for you) Steven Bauer attempted to out-creepy Woody Allen by showing up to the premiere of Magic in the Moonlight with his 18-year-old girlfriend Lyda Loudon. According to her Twitter bio, Lyda is a “part-time nightmare-inspirer, journalist, host of Sarcasm Overdose, ceo, actress, unsalvageable degenerate film/music/cigar/espresso addict” aka she’s unemployed. But Lyda is not just a barely-legal J-list star fucker (yes she is, but go on); she also founded Tea Party Youth and the L3 Foundation, a non-profit dedicated to “educate millennials with the tools it will take to turn America’s future around”.
Of course, it gets better (it always gets better). Lyda’s parents are former Missouri Republican senator John Loudon and Tea Party founder and author “Dr. Gina“ (she sounds like a no-nonsense discount gynecologist). Meanwhile, Steven used to be married to Melanie Griffith, and they have a 28-year-old son together. You know your girlfriend is too damn young if she can’t remember Melanie before the Antonio tattoo. Hell, your girlfriend is too young if her age is anything that ends in “-teen“!
No other information is known, like where they met or just how much Steven had to pay Chris Hansen to keep him from pulling the Dateline van up to his house, but one thing is for sure: they picked the right place to announce they were a couple. Nothing says “I’m in a not-right Pedobear-approved relationship with a teenage girl almost 40 years younger than me” like the red carpet premiere of a Woody Allen movie.
And if your name is Courtney Stodden, here are some pictures of Lyda that you may print out and pin to your dart board to angrily whip your stripper heels at later. For the rest of us, take a good look: this is Lyda before. It’s only a matter of time before she goes full-Hollywood Fame Humper and fills her face and tits with cheap silicone.
If it was up to Ben Stein, he’d be the host of Win Ben Stein’s Peeny, because he is a proud horny motherfucker who is like a teenager on Viagra and still gets “mad crushes” on beautiful ladies. In a rambling, weird column for The American Spectator, which came out last month, Ben Stein writes that his craving for beautiful ladies has led him to some gold digging situations. Shocking, I know. The 69-year-old married pepaw wrote about a woman he called “Lucia” who hit him up for cash. Ben says that he met Lucia at San Francisco International Airport and after talking for a few minutes, they exchanged numbers. They texted each other for months. Ben described Lucia as being a gorgeous “Eurasian” writer who used to work as a pussy peddler. One day, Lucia told him she got knocked up and wasn’t with the father of her unborn child anymore. Lucia asked Ben for cash and Ben, being super pro-life, gave it to her. But after Ben’s column came out, Lucia (real name: Tanya Ma) ran her ass off to Page Six and said that Ben Stein isn’t the giving Captain Save-A-Ho he makes himself out to be. Ben is a creepy predator who wanted to hug and kiss on her pregnant body.
Tanya tells Page Six that she’s only coming out with her side of the story and sharing texts Ben wrote her, because she’s a vigilante for justice and wants all of womankind to know about his sleazy ways.
Tanya Ma, a 24-year-old pregnant performance artist, said she contacted Page Six to tell her story because she doesn’t “want him to continue to do this to women.”
“It’s much more than sexting, cyber-escorting or being a sugar daddy — it’s unhealthy and toxic behavior that needs to be exposed.”
Tanya says that when she met Ben Stein, she thought he was interested in her as a writer, but after texting for four months, he started asking her for “racy” pictures. Tanya sent him some pictures, but he kept asking for more and more. That didn’t seem to bother Tanya too much, because she never blocked his number and she even agreed to meet him at a hotel near his house in L.A. Tanya says that Ben’s wife knew about everything and didn’t care. Tanya eventually called off their date in the hotel room when Ben told her he wanted to hug AND kiss her. Tanya was totally okay with Ben touching her baby dome, but kisses were off the table.
But “the day before I was supposed to meet him, he texted me” about wanting to touch and kiss, she said.
Ma said the ex-Comedy Central star wrote, “When you get here i want to hug and kiss you. I understand you don’t want to fuck me. But i want to touch you and kiss you.”
“I knew he had developed a crush on me, but it just started to get weird,” said a grossed-out Ma, who is 18 weeks pregnant by a former beau.
Growing “horribly uncomfortable” with his antics, Ma said, she texted back: “Ben, you may hug me and feel my baby bump, but anything more is too much for me. I’m not your girlfriend. Can’t we simply enjoy a conversation and meal? I’m pregnant.”
That dialogue sounds like the start of the worst and most uncomfortable pregnant porn ever. The texts that Tanya gave Page Six and the rest of this mess of a story are after the cut. Ben Stein better pay for the hypnosis sessions I’ll need to cleanse my brain of the image of him getting moist in the tip while telling Tanya that he wants to touch her baby bump. »
I have so many Gold-digger jokes cued up in my brain, I might have an aneurism.
61-year-old Jeff Goldblum slipped a hitchin’ ring on the finger of his 31-year-old girlfriend Emilie Livingston and asked her to be his third wife, thus ending his two-and-a-half decade-long quest to sample every pussy in America. Emilie, who is a former gymnast and aspiring actress, tweeted that Jeff proposed to her in an Ok Store by telling her to pick out a ring. Yes, it was that easy; I think we just found the keynote speaker at this years gold digger convention. Then, like a shameless digger do, she hopped on Instagram to post a picture of the ring:
Sure, it’s not that big, but remember – a good gold digger is all about the long game. Start out small, work your way up. Get money bitch, but not all at once.
Jeff Goldblum has stuck it in nearly every famous ho in Hollywood (every SAG-AFTRA membership card comes with a Polaroid of his penis with the words “Call me” written on the back) so I’m shocked that he’s chosen to settle down. Something is very wrong here. Jeff Goldblum is supposed to be out every night cruising random hipster bars for 20-something models and trying to lure them back to his bachelor pad by asking them in that smooth panty-dropping voice of his if they’d like to see the grey underwear he wore in The Fly. It’s too early for a slut like Jeff Goldblum to hang a “SORRY, DICK CLOSED” sign on his junk.
Then again, I’m torn, because as much as I love seeing a true blue pussy hound, I also love a shameless wallet-humping trick living the dream. Here’s Jeff Goldblum and the woman gold diggers across the universe (yes, even the jealous money-chasing alien sluts of Blorg 6) are raising a glass to today out for lunch in Hollywood last week:
British pop star, current X-Factor UK judge, fired X-Factor US judge and Derek Hough’s former trial period beard, Cheryl Cole, is still putting the PhD in Good Decisions she earned from the University of Smart Thinking to good use. Cheryl Cole’s last marriage finally ended after her then husband Ashley Cole found it impossible to not stick his nomad dick in a vagina that wasn’t attached to his wife’s body. Ashley Cole kept dipping his dick in side piece after side piece and Cheryl Cole kept running back to him until she woke up one day and smelled the random snatch juice on his wandering peen. Since Cheryl Cole’s first marriage was a real shit show, she decided to give marriage another try and she’s decided to make a French playboy she met for the first time at a club in April her second husband. Maybe this is a viral marketing stunt for he song “Crazy Stupid Love“?
31-year-old Cheryl wrote on her website yesterday that she married her 33-year-old French boyfriend of 3 months Jean-Bernard Fernandez-Versini (You know bitch had to ask him three times how to spell his first name) on a beach in Mustique.
I USUALLY DO NOT DISCUSS MY PERSONAL LIFE BUT TO STOP THE SPECULATION I WANT TO SHARE MY HAPPY NEWS… JEAN-BERNARD AND I MARRIED ON 7/7/14.. ️ WE ARE VERY HAPPY AND EXCITED TO MOVE FORWARD WITH OUR LIVES TOGETHER..
Cheryl also posted a picture of the ring that Jean-Bernard probably bought at the finest Claire’s in France.
The Daily Mail says that Jean-Bernard is a “hard-partying” French playboy who lives on the Riviera and also has a home in the Caribbean. Jean-Bernard comes from a really rich family and he studied business at NYU. He runs a club and restaurant in the South of France and The New York Times once said he was part of a group of ”‘Eurotrash’ et-setters who had lots of money and just as much free time to enjoy it.”
So a millionaire British pop star with dry queefs for brains gets wooed by a sleazy and smarmy French playboy whose trust fund is bigger than the cellar of champagne he bathes in when he does bathe? Why would I not be surprised if Jean-Bernard Fernandez-Versini from the South of France is actually John Bernard Franklin from a poor family in Iowa who now makes his money swindling dumb rich hos in the South of France? Dirty Rotten Scoundrels is real.
Cheryl Cole marrying some dude she met a second ago isn’t even the dumbest thing she’s ever done. That title forever goes to the gigantic tattoo on Cheryl’s ass and back that looks like a bloody fungus that grew out of her butt and that doctors later tried to burn off. That tattoo is also the best decision Cheryl made, because whenever she makes yet another shitty decision, she can always say, “Well, that bad decision I just made wasn’t worse than the fug abomination on my back.”
Here’s Cheryl and Jean-Bernard, who kind of looks like a mash-up of Jared Leto and Michael Lucas, leaving the Chiltern Firehouse in May.
Even though their guests are still pooping out pieces of fondant from the wedding cake, the first pictures of shoe tycoon Jessica Simpson’s wedding to gold digger extraordinaire Eric Johnson have been released by People. Yes, they got married on Saturday and today is Wednesday. Her brain may be slower than a sloth on a broken treadmill, but when it comes to getting money, bitch is like Usain Bolt.
Since Jessica Simpson held back on the Texas Gum-Chewing Pageant Queen eleganza of her first marriage, and the fact that she chose to get married on Independence Day weekend, I was hoping she would have gone all out the second time around and sashayed down the aisle in a replica of the red, white, and blue taffeta gown Barbie wore when she ran for president in 1992. Instead, she picked a dress the same color as every bathroom on Property Brothers, rubbed it all over a bunch of pay phones and toilet seats, then stuck it in a damp corner of the basement under a pile of Jessica Simpson for Zales butterfly pendants, and waited for it to start growing silver bacteria. Looking at her dress makes me wanna grab the Lysol and a Silkwood shower.
Anyone who’s ever looked at a Jessica Simpson handbag and marvelled at the hand-painted top stitching knows that Jessica is a stickler for the details, so it’s no surprise she carried the bacterial outbreak theme through to her wedding portrait and asked the photographer to make it look like she’s been isolated in quarantine:
Jessica also told People: “It’s so surreal. This has been something we’ve wanted ever since we met” with Eric adding: “Hell yeah, can you blame me?? I’m rich, bitch!”
For a second there, the gold diggers of the world were starting to get nervous and didn’t think that Eric Johnson would fulfill his wallet-humping destiny and get another win for the gold diggers. But after a three and a half year engagement and 2 kids, Eric finally scored another one for the #getmoneybitch league when he became Jessica Simpson’s second husband at the place where every goddamn basic ass celebrity gets married: San Ysidro Ranch in Montecito, CA. Raise your shovels and rejoice!
People says that the professional tight end turned professional stay-at-home dad married the professional dieter and greatest shoe mogul of our time in front of 250 guests including Jessica Alba, Diana Ross’ son, Asshole Simpson, CaCee Cobb and Donald Faison. They all watched as Eric promised to love, honor, obey and cherish Jessica until death or a zero balance savings account does them part. Or until Eric loses it at the Thanksgiving dinner table and stabs Papa Joe in the hand with a steak knife after another game of grab-ass. People says that Chestica wore Carolina Herrera (here’s a sketch of her dress) and the instrumental version of Chris Isaak’s “Wicked Game” played, which is a weird song to play during a wedding ceremony, but nobody’s accused her ass of making sense. After they got married, Jessica’s rep released this canned statement:
“We are overwhelmed with complete happiness and love having made our eternal commitment. To say ‘I do’ in front of family, friends and, most importantly, our children has been the happiest moment of our lives.”
Congratulations to Chestica! Congratulations to the gold diggers! And condolences to the cake, because after filling her mouth with air, laxatives and dehydrated lemon peels so she’d look as skinny as possible in the pictures she’s going to sell to People, she probably destroyed that thing.
And here’s the only Simpson that any of us care about keeping it sexy while hanging with his “model client” at their hotel pool yesterday morning. Papa Joe bringing his twink toy to his ATM’s wedding is probably the most exciting thing that the Simpson family has ever done. To answer the question that popped in your head when you looked at Papa Joe’s client, I don’t know what the twink is modeling either. Maybe he’s modeling Papa Joe’s daddy dick? But then again, that’s “acting” more than “modeling.”