WARNING: If you’re going to watch that video, hit the mute button before doing so. If you don’t, the cops will show up to your front door or cubicle after your neighbors report hearing the blood-curdling sound of a high-pitched animal on helium getting choked out. Or the sound of David Beckham getting choked out. Same thing. If there’s a dog in the room with you, that dog will mistake those cries for a dog murder and bust on out of your house immediately. Hit MUTE before it’s too late.
When a family member came back home after being gone for 2 years, the family schnauzer lost its shit, mind, soul, breath and balance. Doggy could not believe that chick was back. If that dog could talk, that dog’d say, “I thought you were dead! I changed your bedroom into a kitting room!” The family says that the dog was so overfilled with emotion and excitement that it fainted. Doggy acted like some once-in-a-lifetime shit just happened to it like it won the lottery or read a sensical thought from Lindsay Lohan.
Before you call the animal police and report this family, they say in the YouTube description that they took their dog to the vet. The vet saw the video, examined the doggy and declared that everything is okay.
The schnauzer was taken to the vet, the vet saw the video, and everything is fine. No worries.
So according to them, the schnauzer doesn’t have a heart condition and isn’t suffering from seizures. Doggy’s heart just got filled with massive amounts of happiness and excitement. Or doggy caught a glimpse of her fanny pack purse thing and didn’t know how to deal with it.
Jesus in a robe worshiping to a higher dildo tells me that this year’s Gathering of the Juggalos is going to be an especially spiritual experience.
It’s the most beautiful time of the year again! It’s time for the annual Gathering of the Juggalos, which is like Coachella but with a million times more glamour, demureness and refinement. For the past 7 years, the Gathering of the Juggalos was held at Cave-In-Rock, Illinois, but the CDC, Corey Stoll in a busted wig and Hazmat had to shut it down, quarantine it and burn the soil after a demon monster made of Faygo and herpes pus was found. Yes, The Strain is a documentary. So this year, the Juggalos and Juggalettes have gathered at the Legend Valley Music Venue in Thornville, Ohio where they’ll politely sip chamomile tea while listening to the easy listening styles of their idols the Insane Clown Posse and reminiscing about the time they almost murdered Tila Tequila. Or they’ll get plastered on Fagyo and battery acid, punch each other’s eyeballs out in the mosh pit, 69 in the Port-A-Potties and laugh about the time they almost murdered Tila Tequila.
Yesterday was the first day of the Gathering of the Juggalos, so I’m sure there’s much more class and beauty to come. Westword has a ton of pictures, but I’ve thrown in a few pictures below. WARNING: These pictures are NSFW, because there’s nipples and there’s a one hundred percent chance that you’ll get hit in the eyes with a FUPA and it’ll leave you out of commission for the rest of the day. Glamour all up in this bitch!
Fresh off of sunning his vacation belly in Miami, Leonardo DiCatchAHo took his ass to St. Tropez where he showed us what a scene in Titanic would’ve looked like if Jack Dawson learned karate from Mr. Miyagi. While waiting for the 20 models he ordered to arrive in a crate, the leader of the Pussy Posse wowed his friends with his totally awesome karate moves. You know, a lot of us have said that Leo is two eyebrow-arches away from becoming Jack Nicholson, but I think we’ve had it wrong the entire time. That ponytail… That beard… The way it looks like his belly is gracefully jiggling as he delivers a serious, serious karate kick. If Leo replaces Lukas Haas with a panda and replaces his usual Victoria’s Secret Angel model girlfriend with two Russian sex slaves (“What’s the difference to him?” – you “Good point.” – me), then someone must stop him immediately. Because the world really doesn’t need or deserve two Steven Seagals.
Recently I posted pictures of the most gorgeous woman in the world Joan Collins working her yacht body and Leonardo DiCatchAHo working his bloated beach body, so I thought I’d complete the trifecta of hotness by gifting your retinas with the hot gift that is Giorgio Armani looking like a honey roasted chicken in a Speedo while vacationing with his friends in Ibiza. There’s just something about a Voldemort-looking ass 81-year-old with skin as supple as a leather recliner and perky chicken cordon bleu pecs. My only complaint is that Giorgio is supposed to be some kind of fashion legend and yet he’s not keeping up with the latest pepaw trends by wearing a plastic bag satchel tied around his Speedo. I guess the hot Open Post dance machine from yesterday is just too fashion forward.
The Internet has taught me not to believe anything, because everything is a lie. So I looked at this clip through a Detective La Toya brand magnifying glass, because a huge chunk of me believes that the hot, old dude is a young dancer in old man drag and this is just another Jimmy Kimmel hoax or a viral marketing ad for Centrum Silver with Molly. But if this is real, then this seasoned dance machine is my hero. Pepaw looks like Grandpa Simpson on anti-depressants and Ecstasy. We should all hope that when we reach the “liver spots on our taint” phase of life, that we have 1/1000th of this old coot’s hotness and can set fire to the dance floor at a boring wedding reception by throwing down our crutches and unleashing a wave of sexy moves. This video’s got the executives at KY feeling a new kind of nervous. Because this video could end droughts and bring moistness to the driest of deserts. May the granny panties drop.
And pepaw’s plastic bag tied around his belt loop truly IS the look.
First Bear Grylls hangs out with Jake Gyllenhaal. Then Bear Grylls hangs out with Bradley Cooper. And now he’s hanging out with Zac Efron? Does Bear Grylls work part-time as a sales rep for a Rent-A-Beard agency?
In a preview clip for NBC’s Running Wild with Bear Grylls, Michelle Rodriguez’s scissor sister Zac Efron risks ruining his Bronzer and lip gloss game by taking off his top to rappel down a cliff with Bear Grylls in the Catskill Mountains. They take off their tops, because Bear says they should put their shirts in their backpacks so they have something dry to wear when they get down and because Zac Efron’s nipples = RATINGS! Bear telling Zac that they should take off their tops sounds like the start of the gay porn of my dreams.
Zac and Bear go down together and while watching them go down, I became really disappointed in nature. I mean, Zac and Bear hang in the air for a long time and not one hawk flies by and rips off their pants and chonies. Where were you when we really needed you, hawks? Oh, nature, you did us wrong this time.
Whoever decided it was a good idea to let the dirty bag of dead crotch crabs known as Paris Hilton hold their newborn should have more than their child taken away. They should be booked into Dumb Fuck General Hospital and have their decision making skills removed and studied by doctors, because only the dumbest of fucks would give their baby to Paris Hilton. Forget about the fact that it could catch a contagious viral infection like Skankfluenza or Wonkitis; do you really want one of your baby’s first memories to be of an obnoxious has-been from 2005 bragging about how she’s now a super-famous DJ in Ibiza?
And yet, a random person still gave their baby to Paris Hilton as she was leaving LAX yesterday. That poor baby. It’s only spent a couple days outside the womb, and already it knows the smell of stale spray-tanner, jizz-breath, and discount drugstore perfume. At least Paris had the foresight to keep her sunglasses on while she was holding him; imagine if he’d seen her wonk-eye up close? That’s the kind of shit you require years of therapy for.
The only other reason I can see for someone willingly handing their baby over to Paris Hilton is if the mother’s name is Rosemary and the child’s father is Lucifer. “Er…are you sure you want to give it to her? Maybe we could give it to a Kardashian or something?” – Lucifer.
The Nickelodeon Kids’ Choice Sports Awards (whatever that is) happened in L.A. yesterday and two of David Beckham’s sons, Romeo and Cruz, presented him with some kind of award. Just like the regular Kids’ Choice Awards, people get slimed onstage, but instead of getting covered with Slimer’s green barf, people got covered with gold goo. Becks and his boys got slimed and afterward they all looked Liberace’s mansion just projectile diarrhea’d all over them. They’re giving us “if the Hollywood Blvd. Gold Man went to Death Valley and melted.”
Romeo and Cruz both seem grossed out, but it’s weird to me that Becks isn’t dry heaving on the stage and screaming for a Hazmat crew. I mean, Becks getting covered in liquid gold is like all of us regulars getting covered in wet caca since he shits liquid gold. Is he trying to tell us something?
And on another note, is a melting Oscar statue noted Oscar chaser Leonardo DiCaprio’s worst nightmare or a bittersweet dream?
Pics: Wenn.com, AP Images
The news today has been shitty, fucked up and depressing and it might’ve made you want to miniaturize yourself so you can sit at the bottom of a bong for the rest of the day. But there has been some good news today. Florida took a break from producing half of this country’s supply of full-fledged fuckery to kill the ban on same-sex marriage in the Keys. Now every whore can get married by Sushi, the Queen of the Keys! Update your BugsBunnySewingOffFlorida.GIF accordingly. The other good news is that the Photo Agency GODS spread thick layers of shiny luxuriousness right onto my eyeballs by giving me these pictures of the most glamorous woman in the solar system Joan Collins holding court on a yacht in St. Tropez. While her husband Percy Somethingoranother and another man, who would obviously gnaw off his own arm for the chance to lick one of her diamonds, helped her down the stairs of her yacht, Joan gave the camera lens BODY, SEX, glamour and several servings of champagne and caviar bloat. This is Robin Leach’s porn.
Joan Collins is 81 years old and she can still take your man, take your company and take everything you love without even trying.
Never mind that the Mediterranean Sea will soon go dry since everyone will drink out of it once they find out that Joan dipped her toes in it, there’s a picture in the gallery of her with a wedgie. That picture needs to be printed out and set on a white gold band, because it’s that’s precious and priceless.
The Rock gave his Instagram followers an early Throwback Thursday gift this morning when he posted this picture of him drenched in the cum of the 90s. Everything is stunning about this picture from that “rejected House Party extra” hair to that single gold earring he definitely bought at Spencer’s Gifts to the turtleneck & chain combo to that clearance bin Miller’s Outpost belt to those piping hot mom jeans to that tiny fanny pack covering his dick. That photo screams “Chess King model search” glamour. If you took every single cast member of A Different World, shoved them into a blender and added heaping amounts of L.A. Looks gel, out would come The Rock looking like that. The Rock knows how special his 90s flavor is, because notice how he’s leaning on a paper napkin so his sexiness doesn’t get dirtied up.
I love the way he’s delicately touching that fanny pack. I bet if you unzipped that fanny pack, his dick would pop out. That picture should be the cover for The Lonely Island’s next single Dick In A Fanny Pack.
The Rock added this little note (and priceless hash tag) with that gorgeous picture:
Fanny pack and lean take it to a whole other level… #90sRock #WTF #BuffLesbian
I smell what The Rock is cooking and it smells like White Rain and Cool Water with a base note of Right Guard clear gel. I hope he’s wearing a Hypercolor thong underneath all that 90s hotness.