I haven’t watched the first episode of LeAnn Rimes and Eddie Cibrian’s “semi-scripted” dried turd of reality show on Vh1, because I am a disgusting, gross, easy pig slut when it comes to TV (and everything else) and I should try to have SOME standards. I recorded LeAnn & Eddie, though, and when I’ve gone into my DVR to play an episode of quality television like Dating Naked and Topless Prophet on Cinemax, it stares at me like a wet, oozing herp sore on a short, soft peen. I can’t bring myself to watch it. Apparently, I’m not alone, because Deadline says that the first episode of The Home Wrecking Squints was watched by 374,000 viewers. To put that number into perspective, Grumpy Cat was on QVC at 7 in the morning yesterday and more hos probably watched that shit (and sadly, I was one of those hos). LeAnn & Eddie were beat by Dog with a Blog, an episode of Seinfeld and COPS. Deadline says that Vh1′s Dating Naked got 826,000 viewers, but when LeAnn Rimes’ “melting Play-Doh figurine of a demon pony” face popped up after it, everyone turned their TVs off.
The rest of VH1’s new programming on VH1 might have wanted to strip down a bit to do better. Coming after the 551,000 who watched the debut of Candidly Nicole, the 10:30 premiere of Leann And Eddie was seen by a total 374,000 audience of 374,000. The former was up 51% from last quarter among the 18-49s with 325,000 watching while the later up just 19% over the last quarter’s average in the time slot with 252,000 viewers in the demo.
To recap: more than twice the number of hos who suffered through LeAnn & Eddie watched a show with a bunch of naked people. For the love of humanity’s eyeballs, don’t let that give Falkor ideas!!! (Eddie, okay, but not Falkor!) And poor Eddie’s probably going to have to take his side pieces to the Super 8 instead of the Hilton. LeAnn probably cut his allowance, because she needed the money to buy 374,000 TVs and 374,000 different cable connections. You didn’t think 374,000 actual people watch that wreck, did you?
And here’s Falkor looking like a horse skeleton in lazy Stevie Nicks drag while protecting the peen she paid for at the Luli Fama fashion show in Miami yesterday.
Why do I have a feeling that the ivory key he’s tickling in that picture doesn’t belong to the piano?
To promote his embarrassing album of songs dedicated to getting his wife Paula Patton back, Robin Thicke continued to show us that dignity is no friend of his by talking about his love for her in interview after interview. Robin Thicke re-defining “pathetic” while whoring out his album really paid off and by that I mean it didn’t pay off at all. In its first week of sales, Paula sold 24,000 copies in the US, 530 copies in the UK, 550 copies in Canada and less than 54 COPIES in Australia. It has gone triple used condom worldwide! News.com.au says that the album that has given stalkers motivation to be more stalker-ey didn’t even crack the Top 500 in Australia and a Blondie compilation album, which came in at #500, sold 54 copies. So Robin’s album sold less than that. Sales outside of the Top 500 aren’t registered, so Robin’s album could’ve sold 1 copy in Australia for all we know. Robin’s Blurred Lines album debuted at No. 1 in Australia and sold 117,000 copies in its first week in the US.
To put Paula’s numbers into perspective, Alan Thicke’s “Sweaty And Hot” sold 89 copies in Bulgaria last week and it hasn’t dropped out of the Top 10 there since its debut in 1998. (Okay, I made that up, but I’m probably not lying.)
But my question is, if that stalker mess of an album sold 54 copies in Australia, who were the 54 people who actually bought it? If you tracked down who bought that album, you’d find 54 Australians who need serious psychological help, because they obviously don’t love themselves and are looking for horrific ways to harm themselves. HELP THEM! Or you’d find 54 medical professionals who are using it to treat comatose patients. Because studies show that if you play Paula for comatose patients, there’s a 100% chance that they’ll wake up to cringe.
If your b-hole is still recovering from the warm tingles it got after hearing about Leonardo DiCaprio refusing to share the same air with the Keeping Up With The Kardashians kamera krew at a party two weeks ago, then you better stop reading right now, because this story will make you feel like you sat on a dildo made of Extra Strength Icy Hot. Star says that while he was in Cannes last month, Leo decided to catch some hos at Gotha nightclub (don’t get excited; I checked, and, no, it’s not a Gothika-themed nightclub). As it so happened, the toilet-clogging used tampon of Canada Justin Bieber was also in the same club, most likely searching for someone to warm his bottle and read Goodnight Moon.
According to a source (hey Lukas Haas!) a shirtless Justin spotted Leo from across the room and had his bodyguard push through the crowd to get to where Leo was sitting with his harem of bony 20-year-old models in the VIP area. Justin’s bodyguard (the toughest 4th grader he knows) then asked Leo if he’d be interested in pulling up a highchair and letting Baby Bieber join him at his table. Of course, Leo would rather fuck an underwear model from the Sears catalogue than spend two seconds with Vanilla Ice Cream Cone, so he shook his head “OF COURSE NOT, BITCH” and shooed his bodyguard away. In case you didn’t glean that Leo has as much use for a Bieber as he does a Kardashian, the source says this:
“He thinks Justin’s a little twit. Leo doesn’t want or need photo ops with publicity-hungry, manufactured pop stars.”
As if. The real reason Leo didn’t want that swaggy tonsil stone around is because that greedy pussy-hoarder was afraid Justin would swoop in with his sessy dirt stache and snatch up one of his beloved Victoria’s Secret Angels, forcing Leo to sleep on a bed of 7 naked models instead of his regular 8 that evening. Even though they only weight about 90 lbs each, if one of his pretty panty hustlers is missing from the pile, he has to re-arrange them all and move the blonde one from the bottom and the other blonde one to the middle, and it’s impossible for him to get a good night’s sleep if he’s playing Pussy Tetris all night long.
Let’s play a quick game of Would You Rather. Would you rather…be invited to a party thrown by Justin Bieber that you HAVE to go to, or invite Paris Hilton to a party you’re throwing that she will definitely show up to. Okay, I’ll start with the first question: Am I allowed to kill myself? No? Fine, I’ll pick going to the Justin Bieber party, but only because kid’s parties usually have cake and pizza, and I can ignore that brat long enough to get some cake and pizza.
Paris Hilton, on the other hand, must not like pizza (“I don’t eat stuff that reminds me of what I see when I stand naked over a mirror”) because TMZ says that she couldn’t stand more than half an hour at a party thrown by Justin Bieber in Cannes. It all started when Vanilla Ice Cream Cone and 2005′s slimy stinky thong were partying together at a nightclub in Cannes. They got along really well (a witness claimed to have seen Paris crawl onto Bieber’s lap, aaaaaaand I just vomited) eventually deciding to leave the club with 50 of their
parasitic paid leeches friends, and make their way back to Baby Bieber’s rented French club house.
Justin then decided to show Paris that she wasn’t the only shitty DJ in the house by hitting play on his iPod, except he must have forgotten to load more music after his bodyguard deleted all the Wiggles songs earlier that day (“It’s making him too rowdy”) because the only thing he played was his own music. After half an hour, she decided the party was lame and left. It took her half an hour to figure that out?? Jizz-rot truly is a hell of a disease. At least now she knows what it’s like to go to one of her own shows.
And in case the mental image of a skanky lizard slithering onto the lap of a busted My Buddy doll wasn’t enough to give you the heaves, here’s a shirtless Justin toddling around the Boulevard de la Croissette. Pardon my French, but I’d happily give somebody €50 to pousser ce petit shithead dans l’eau pour moi.
How fitting: a place famous for taking two buns and stuffing them with greasy questionable meat topped with plastic cheese volunteering to cater the wedding of a cheesy plastic-faced woman most famous for stuffing greasy questionable meat in her buns.
Burger King responded to a story released earlier this week by the Daily Star that said Kanye West was planning on buying 10 European Burger King restaurants as a wedding present for the Grade-F meat patty herself, Kim Kardashian; and knowing that it was most likely untrue, and proving that they have a good sense of humour, they released the following statement to NME:
Burger King Corp. is familiar with the recent news stories regarding Kanye West and Kim Kardashian. We are unaware of any purchase of BURGER KING® restaurants made by either Mr. West or Ms. Kardashian, but we’re available to cater the wedding!
If Kim and Kanye were smart, they’d take Burger King up on that offer, because the scent of Whoppers and BK onion rings is the only thing strong enough to mask the stench of their obnoxious shit-show of a wedding. Plus, the promise of Burger King also works as an incentive to get people to actually show up, since there probably won’t be an open bar (Pimp Mama Kris is a cheap penny-pinching pimp). Then again, the lure of Whoppers might not be enough to make people want to risk being trampled to death by Khloe and The Sock One during the bouquet toss.
Since I moved back to L.A., I’v experienced massive amounts of dumb fuck drivers and most of the time I have to turn on a Carpenters and/or stick an ice cube up my ass to cool down. Bitches have tailgated me just to tailgate me and usually I love it when an angry whore is riding me hard, but I’d prefer if we were both out of our cars, naked and lubed up. Whenever I’m dealing with a tailgater, I always move over and sometimes those dumb shits move over with me and continue to ride me just to fuck with me. When that happens, I always think that the crazy ass driver is probably going to skid out and eat shit. That’s exactly what happened to this YouTuber in….wait for it… wait for it… Tampa, FL. She writes that a dude in a truck was riding her ass like she was a hungry bottom and he was a power top. She pulled out her phone and filmed it all. She explains why she didn’t move over and claims that she kept her eyes on the road while filming (uh huh):
This happened to me on SR 41 in Tampa on Monday March 24th. This pathetic excuse for a human being tailgated me for about three minutes. After about a minute, and me shaking my head, I pulled out my phone and started recording. I couldn’t move over because there were trucks in the right lane, and I sure as heck wasn’t going to speed on a rainy day with the roads being as slick as they were. I was turning left in about a half-mile when this happened. Now bear in mind, that this guy had already passed a truck in a left turn lane, was tailgating and driving recklessly on a wet slick road, wasn’t paying attention, and all in all being an ignorant ass. In the full video which I will post later, you will be able to see that not once was I mouthing off, I never brake checked him, and in fact until I watched the video after the accident I didn’t even know he shot a bird at me because I wasn’t looking at him at all, I was paying attention to the road while holding the phone up with my right hand. I’ve recorded circumstances like this before, catching idiots doing stupid things, but never ever had this happen.
He initially fled the scene of the accident, but thanks to this video he has been caught and charged. Massive props to the Sheriffs Department and most especially the Highway Patrol who responded to the scene. This moron could have easily killed somebody with his moronic behavior, and my laughing at the end would have been replaced with tears. Needless to say though, I’ve never seen Karma come back so fast.
Okay, yes, I released after watching that.
But seriously, when she cackled while irresponsibly shooting that shit, I thought she was going to lose control, skid out and hit a tree on the other side of the road. The cops would’ve shown up, arrested them both and forced them to share a jail cell together. Of, course in that jail cell, they would’ve fallen in love. The love story that could’ve been.
And I can’t completely side with this lady for the simple that she shot this in portrait mode. That is unforgivable.
Ladies, mark your calendars. On April 23rd, you’ll have to go back to wearing head-to-toe armor, because on that day Chris Brown and his fists will be released back into civilization. Hopefully sometime between now and then, the jail warden will accidentally swallow Chris’ cell key and then will sort of kind of shit out that key in a rest stop bathroom far, far away. (“But Michael, you dumb bitch, it’s 2014, I don’t think cells operate with keys anymore.” – you “I hate how you always try to ruin my beautiful fantasies.” – me)
The Difficult Brown was kicked out of rehab and sent to jail on Friday after he violated rules. He was supposed to stay in rehab until his assault case in DC is wrapped up, but since he just couldn’t help himself and self-sabotaged his own stupid ass again, he got kicked out of anger management rehab and was sent to jail. Chris was in court in L.A. today to ask the judge to please, please release him. While wearing his signature color “jail house tangerine,” Chris contorted his facial expressions into “sad, wittle puppy” to win sympathy from the judge. The judge wasn’t buying that transparent act and told Chris he has to stay in jail until a jury in the DC case decides if he’s guilty or not. TMZ says that his trial in DC is set for April 17th and Fisty probably won’t be allowed to attend. Judge Obvious let Chris know that he has an “inability to stay out of trouble.” TMZ also says that he was kicked out of rehab for three reasons:
1. He was told to stay at least 2 feet away from every woman in rehab. He wasn’t allowed to touch, grope or punch a lady. But since the words “don’t put your hands on a woman” are about as foreign to this anal wart as the words “don’t touch those cupcakes” are to me, he broke the rules when he touched a woman’s hand and elbow.
2. The Difficult Brown was allowed to leave rehab for one day and when he came back he refused to take a drug test. He later took one and it was negative, but saying no the first time was a violation.
3. During group session, he talked shit about rehab.
The judge also shook his head at that piece of trash when he heard that Chris bragged about being good at using guns and knives in rehab.
So for the next 30-something days, Fist Brown will sit in a jail cell and if he’s found guilty in the DC case, he could face up to 4 years in the chokey for violating probation by committing a felony.
One motherfucker down (for now). Now all we need is for Justin Bieber to be found guilty in that egging shit so the judge can sentence him to spend 30 days in the same jail cell as The Difficult Brown. All that doucheness in such a small space would make that cell explode. But with our luck, they’d fall in love, mate and the Biebs would butt birth out the Four Horsemen.
Cue the music! Radar is reporting that The Deaner and his wandering peener have been released from sex rehab, and he’s ready to make up for some lost time! And you’ll never believe my luck: I was able to obtain a transcript from the press conference he held this morning at the Hooters in Van Nuys:
“What’s been crappenin bitches? Thank you all for being here to welcome me back into your folds. YES! Nailed it. But seriously, your old pal Deano couldn’t have made it through the past 30 days without your love, support, sexts, snapchats, and visitation day over-the-pants handies. A big shout-out to Sharla, Starla, the girls of Hooters 127 and 342, that chick with the cans…fuck, what was her name again? Oh yeah, Dr. Elenor Weinstein. Thanks for telling Tori I’m cured! Alright, who wants to be the first to give The Deener a beejer?”
Oh, Dean McDermott, you scamp. After being released from his Tori Spelling-imposed rehabilitation for wandering gold diggers, The Deaner’s first order of business wasn’t, in fact, to let a group of Hooters girls run a train on his dad dick. A source tells Radar that the minute Dean checked out, he marched straight home and poured salt into Tori’s gaping chest hole by telling her she needs to get her shit together and seek treatment for her spending problem:
“There are nights that Dean doesn’t sleep because he is so concerned about how they are going to pay the bills. Tori is willing to get help, but complains she doesn’t have time because of their four kids.”
Uh-huh. I’m so sure the reason he’s losing sleep is because Tori drops too much money at American Girl, and has nothing to do with the countless texts he receives that say: “Remember when u fucked me at yr wife’s book signing? I think I’m pregnant “
And excuse you, Source, but what spending problem? Don’t all families on the brink of bankruptcy throw over-the-top birthday parties and lavish afternoon teas? Besides, Tori has a plan to fix this temporary money problem, and it’s called the C.A.N.D.Y. method.
Call up your rich mother
Ask for money
Never accept no for an answer
Dial her number again & Demand money
You just put in a long day at work. Y not reward yourself with a new house?
What in the name of Simple Jack chipmunk fuck is going on with Miley Cyrus’s hair? How does something like this even happen? The conversation between her and whoever is responsible for this mess must have gone something like this:
Miley: Bowl cut.
Hairdresser: Like Dumb & Dumber?
Hairdresser: The Three Stooges?
Aside from that hair that really brings out the derp in Miley’s face, with those high waisted suspender pants and belly shirt, she looks like any girl at my high school in the 90′s (yeah, I’m fucking old). She’s missing these supersexy lug sole shoes and an ankh necklace, but the resemblance is still there. I tried to pull shit like that off but my mom always bought my clothes three sizes too big insisting I’d grow into them and wouldn’t let me show my belly so I had to stuff a long shirt into REALLY baggy pants. With my off-brand platform patent leather black and white spectator shoes, I was some green makeup and a fedora away from looking like the fucking Mask dressed up for prom.
Here are some more pics of Miley looking like a peroxided gloster canary.
Today in Calabasas, CA, the police raided a white dude’s house and arrested the black guy. Oh, America! While the police were searching Justin Bieber’s house for any kind of evidence that can connect him to the egging of his next door neighbor’s ass, they found a bag of molly or coke or some kind of illegal drug. Justin Bieber’s friend Lil Za, who also lives there, was arrested, because his ass knows who pays the bills and who buys the drugs, so he took the fall.
Lil Za was booked for felony drug possession, his mug shot of beauty was taken and he had to marinate in a jail cell for a little bit before he was released. But because Lil Za is as good at making decisions as Justin Bieber is, he threw a tantrum and broke a phone in the jailhouse. TMZ says that the anal bead-brained idiot was minutes away from freedom. The cops arrested his ass again and booked him for vandalism.
Lil Za is a bonda fide dumb fuck for taking the fall for his sugar daddy even if his sugar daddy pays all the bills. I’m all for being down for your sugar daddy, but there’s a line somewhere. (Yes, we live in a weird world where Justin Bieber is the “daddy” in a relationship.) But Lil Za is really a bona fide dumb fuck for beating that phone up while in jail. I bet Lil Za was on the phone with Justin and Justin let him know that he’d have to sleep in the guest room tonight. Justin and Lil Twist want the bed to themselves tonight. No cuddlies turn Lil Za into an angry bitch.
And I hate that every time I see Lil Za’s dumb name somewhere, I read it as LiZa and I get excited for a quick second before learning the sad, sad truth.