Chris Brown started his day yesterday by saying, “Fuck the police,” on Instagram after he was accused of pointing a gun at a woman, and his day ended with the police saying, “No, fuck YOU,” to him after taking his $250,000 bail money. The Los Angeles Times says that Chris bailed out of the Los Angeles County Jail at 11:15 last night. He has to show up to a hearing on September 20. Fisty was booked on suspicion of assault with a deadly weapon, which is a felony, for allegedly threatening a chick with a gun at his house in Tarzana early yesterday morning. Chris swears that he’s innocent and that he couldn’t have waved a gun at a woman, because he was asleep. Maybe Fisty was asleep. Some tricks walk in their sleep, maybe Chris Brown pulls guns on women in his sleep. It’s very possible.
And now you know what Aaron Carter looks like while he’s eating ass. Thank you for that, AC.
Aaron Carter has been saying “fuckit” to having dignity for months by tweeting about how his childhood girlfriend Hilary Duff is his soulmate and he’ll never ever stop trying to win her love back. I almost filed a lawsuit against Aaron at that time, because I developed severe face wrinkles from cringing over him declaring his love for the girl he dated when they were both fetus-aged like he’s a character in the worst Nicholas Sparks book ever. Aaron eventually realized that he needs to stop it with the “Every Step You Take…” shit and vowed to have a seat and keep his lips shout about his undying love for Lizzie McGuire.
That was that until Hilary Duff just had to awaken the stalker beast with blond low lights by talking about him during a recent interview with Cosmo. Hilary, you dumb trick, do not invoke its name! Hilary said this about Aaron slobbering on and on about her on Twatter:
“Him reaching out through social media? It’s ridiculous! But then people do it all the time, like Chris Brown and Karrueche? Come on, guys. Keep it between text messages.”
Since Hilary just had to talk about Aaron, the former Mr. May in the Faces of Meth calendar and former Mr. July in the Bodies of Meth calendar responded to her on Twitter, sort of. Aaron didn’t name names, but let Hilary Duff know that she should keep his name out of her mouth (and then his balls exploded from thinking about him being in Hilary Duff’s chipmunk mouth):
Some shit I just don't get. Stop. Talking. About. It. ….I did.
— Aaron Carter (@aaroncarter) March 5, 2015
Maybe he’s not talking about Hilary. Maybe he’s talking about that dress. Aaron is right, though. Hilary needs to stop obsessing over Aaron obsessing over her. Aaron has really matured and knows that slobbering about her on social media isn’t a good look. Those whores on Twitter don’t understand anyway. So now Aaron only talks about Hilary to the patchwork doll he made out of the panties he stole from her dirty laundry basket while cuddling with it in the room that’s covered with pictures of her. Follow Aaron’s lead, Hilary, and grow the hell up!
Here’s Hilary with her son, doing her daily walk in the front of the paps. I’m sure Aaron has already made a composite of what their baby would look like in one of those morph programs and posted that picture over the face of Hilary’s son.
Page Six is saying that Lindsay Lohan went to a party at Kristen Stewart’s house (read: broke into Kristen Stewart’s house through a guest bedroom window) and bonded with KStew all night (read: went through KStew’s trash and stole a used tampon, burnt weed buds and a grease ball of hair, which she’s going to sell on the down low to Twihards who need a fix).
Page Six’s source says that LiLo and Kristen Stewart know each other through a mutual friend (read: their dealer) and so LiLo was invited to one of KStew’s parties last week. The source said that RPattz was at the party too, but it was LiLo who got all of KStew’s attention and the two messes “discussed their careers, creative ideas and how they deal with living under the focus of the media and the paparazzi.”
Yeah, that’s not what they talked about. They both have the communication skills of an extra slow cave baby, so I doubt they even exchanged more than 5 words. They stared at each other, KStew drooled and LiLo grunted before one of them finally shouted, “Want to smoke some meth?!” Then they scissored until the carbon monoxide alarm went off. The end.
But seriously, LiLo needs to stop leaking stories to Page Six. Oh, LiLo, that wasn’t Kristen Stewart’s house. It was a dumpster behind the Seventh Veil strip club on Sunset Blvd. And that wasn’t Kristen Stewart you were bonding with. It was a malnourished alley rat. I know, it’s easy to get the two confused.
Here’s KStew’s best friend (in her head) getting on a flight to Brazil while wearing her latest mug shot ensemble.
Falkor Rimes could learn a thing or five hundred from the silicone dragon flower Jenna Jameson, because this is how a real, bona fide style icon wears vinyl.
While looking like the queen of the Meth Face Prom, Jenna Jameson posed until she split a seam at her birthday party at Crazy Horse III in Las Vegas last night. I’m trying to figure out what’s the best part of this look:
a) Jenna’s bipolar titties. Jenna’s right titty must be on downers, because it looks sad and it obviously wants to be alone. Jenna’s left titty must be on uppers, because it looks like it’s on cloud 9 and the king of the world.
b) Jenna’s catsuit, which makes her look like a slutty black and white cookie.
c) Jenna’s exquisite, pristine and angelic white leather camel toe.
d) Jenna’s algae green hair color, which hos spend hours upon hours in the pool to get.
e) All of the above!
The answer is obviously e!
And here’s more of Jenna looking like a methed-out, sun-damaged garden lizard trapped in a pile of seaweed.
I’ve only been to confession a couple of times and not once did the priest end our session by saying, “Say ten Hail Marys and before you go in peace, would like to buy some meth?” I feel so cheated.
I’ve been waiting for the Global Catholic Network to get into scripted television and now here’s the perfect plot for their first dramedy. Monsignor Kevin Wallin, former pastor at St. Augustine’s Cathedral in Bridgeport, CT, was charged earlier this month for being part of a nationwide drug ring. The CTPost (via JMG) says that Msgr. Kevin was indicted on six charges and he could face a life sentence if convicted. St. Augustine’s issued a statement saying that they are “shocked,” but that they stand by him and are ready to help him through this difficult time. But the fuckery doesn’t stop there. This isn’t just your regular old-fashioned Catholic priest turned meth dealer story.
Msgr. Kevin resigned as pastor of St. Augustine’s two years ago due to “health and personal problems.” “Health and personal problems” is just Catholic priest talk for “getting caught with legal dick up your ass, ” because the CTPost says that he was forced to resign after the church found out that he was fucking “odd-looking” cross dressers in the rectory while wearing women’s clothes. (More like fucking in the rectumory.) Church officials also found sex toys in Msgr. Kevin’s room. They suspended him and continued to pay him a stipend all the way up until he was arrested for selling meth.
After Msgr. Kevin left the church, he continued to sell meth and at his peak, he was making $9,000 a week. He used some of that money to open up a sex shop in North Haven called Land of Oz. Investigators believe that he used the store to launder the thousands of dollars he made in selling meth. Msgr. Kevin still kept in contact with officials from the Catholic church and he used to go see musicals with his mentor, former N.Y. Cardinal Edward Egan and parishioners
A rep for the Diocese said:
“We had no indication he had a drug problem and never had complaints regarding him and drugs. We approached him and he admitted he was struggling a bit and shortly after that he resigned (July 2011) and the bishop granted him a sabbatical.
The rep went on to say, “And at least he wasn’t raping underage boys. That’s a first!“
So to recap: Msgr. Kevin is a meth-addicted, drug-dealing former Catholic priest who hollered out show tunes while getting butt banged by a cross dresser in the rectory. Walter White seriously has nothing on this bitch! If priests told stories like this during mass, I’d be in church every single night. Hell, I’d be in church right now. These are the kind of stories I want to hear.
When the CTPost asked one of St. Augustine’s parishioners for a quote, she said, “There is an evil invading our world and it has come to our church.”
Well, somebody’s jealous that Msgr. Kevin looks sexier than she does in a pink négligée.
“Why did I just burp up a Frapp bubble? Why am I pulling pink wig hairs out of my mouth? Why do I suddenly have layers of gas station grease on the bottom of my bare feet?” are questions you probably just asked yourself and the answer is: Because we’re going back to 2007, y’all!
Former Cheeto puppet master, Sam Lutfi, is suing current Cheeto puppet masters, Brit Brit Spears’ parents, for defamation (Side note: I make typos on a minutely basis and I didn’t make a typo by typing “defecation” instead of “defamation.” I disappoint myself.) and they’re battling it out in court right now. During opening statements yesterday, TMZ says that Sam’s lawyer, Joseph Schleimer, alleged that Brit Brit shaved her weave off during her 2007 meltdown, because she was high on that Walter White stuff and was afraid she’d lose custody of her Cheetolings if she was drug tested. Sam claims that KFed always threatened to throw a drug test at Brit Brit, so she tried to thwart his plans by shaving the meth off of her head. (You know, because that’s the ONLY way they can find the meth in your system.)
Joseph Schleimer then went on to tell the jury that on the day Brit Brit was 5150’d, she went on a serious amphetamine binge. Brit Brit started her day by downing 8 Adderalls and she kept taking them until she eventually spiraled out of control and ended up on a stretcher. Sam tried to get Brit Brit psychiatric help just two days before her mind jumped out of her head, but she refused.
I don’t know who to side with here. On one side, you’ve got Sam Lutfi who controlled a mentally-ill human ATM machine by shoving meds into her mouth. On the other side, you’ve got Team Daddy Spears, who are controlling a mentally-ill human ATM machine by shoving meds into her mouth. But Daddy Spears does make a mean pot of Velveeta grits, so I’ll go with him.
Sam could be right about the meth thing since Brit Brit did have a case of serious meth weave, but then again, you too would look methed-out of your mind if your daily diet consisted only of Mountain Dew, gas station nachos, caffeinated whipped cream and pink slime (see: Honey Boo Boo Chile).