The big bag of French-Canadian crazy who was accused of stalking Alec Baldwin after a one-night-fuck with him was found guilty today and sentenced to six months in jail plus another 30 days for acting a loud mess in court. The judge told 41-year-old actress Genevieve Sabourin that she is going to Rikers, because anybody that is crazy enough to stalk Alec Baldwin’s equally-as-crazy ass deserves to be locked up. No, he didn’t tell her that, but he should’ve, because the definition of shame is going to jail for stalking current day Alec Baldwin.
The NYDN says that the judge slapped Genevieve down when he told her that she showed zero respect during the trial and continually harassed Alec for two years after he told her to leave him alone and regularly called the cops on her. After the judge let her know that she’ll spend the next seven months simmering with the sad, tragic fact that she’s in jail for stalking Alec Baldwin, she didn’t apologize and declared her innocence again.
“I haven’t done anything wrong, and I’m innocent, so that’s what I have to say. You’re doing a mistake right now.”
Alec Baldwin celebrated the verdict by doing something he does every day: throw verbal shit bombs at the paparazzi.
TMZ has a video of the grumpy human fart in wayfarers chasing after a pap for getting too close to his wife and kid. When the pap gets away, the self-proclaimed non-homophobe walks back to his car and mumbles out “cocksucking fag.”
I guess “cocksucking fag” is the new “toxic little queen” which was the new “goat-footed wheezy old queen.”
This is just Alec Baldwin being the fart-brained piece of dumb grizzled trash that he is. Since when is “cocksucking fag” an insult? He says that like it’s a bad thing. It’s a beautiful thing. Now, calling someone a “non-cocksucking fag” is an insult, because you should never trust a gay guy who doesn’t suck cock.
UPDATE: Alec is crying on Twitter that he didn’t say “fag,” he said “fathead.” Yeah, okay.
If @TMZ asserts that I used an anti-gay epithet, I will sue them.
— ABFoundation (@ABFalecbaldwin) November 14, 2013
Acoustic analysis proves the word is fathead. Fathead.
— ABFoundation (@ABFalecbaldwin) November 14, 2013
Marky Mark Will Remove You From His Christmas Card List If You’re An Actor Who Compares Himself To A Soldier
What is it about Mark Wahlberg that makes him react to everything like an angry Red Sox fan who’s deep into his 6th beer? He could be dressed in an Armani tuxedo walking the red carpet at the Academy Awards, someone could walk by and accidentally bump him, and in 0.2 seconds he’d have his tie off and given his hotdog to his girlfriend to hold before yelling ‘Yah betta call yah motha and tell her to pick out a casket for yah funeral, buddy, cause yah dead! Yah so fackin dead.’
According to TMZ, Mahky Mahk took an indirect shot at Scientology’s Homecoming Queen, Tom Cruise (did I even need to write his name?) when he spoke candidly about how he feels when actors compare themselves to soldiers (I’ll give $1000 to whichever one of you is able to read this in a regular dialect and not a thick Southie accent):
Wahlberg was speaking at the AFI Festival in L.A., when he was asked about the story TMZ broke about Tom Cruise saying in a deposition that his job was like fighting in Afghanistan. Wahlberg unloaded, saying “For somebody to sit there and say ‘my job was as difficult as being in the military.’ How f**king dare you, while you sit in a makeup chair for 2 hours.”
Wahlberg didn’t stop there. He said, “I don’t give a shit if you get your ass busted. You get to go home at the end of the day. You get to go to your hotel room. You get to order your f**king chicken.”
Order your fucking chicken? I’m sure Marky Mark is using the word fuck as an adjective, but it’s more fun to pretend he’s referring to a chicken that one fucks. You hear that Tommy Boy? Go back to your hotel room and stick your dick in a chicken.
I get what Poppa Funky Bunch is saying. When you’re an adult man who’s job is basically to play pretend for millions of dollars, it’s pretty bold to compare what you do to a bunch of dudes who are sweating their balls off in a tent in the desert. But this is Tom Cruise we’re talking about! He’s practically a whole chapter in your therapists reference guide to self-absorbed delusion. You can’t take what he says seriously. Hmmm, sounds like someone else we know. I’m not going to name names, but wasn’t there was an actor who’s said he could have prevented 9/11 by getting all Sergeant First Class Troy Barlow on a terrorist? Exactly.
(Pic via Wenn)
The gold-encrusted moist butt sex raisins from Tom Cruise’s deposition in his $50 million lawsuit against Bauer Media just keep on coming. Tommy’s mad at those lying whores for saying he “abandoned” the former chosen child of Scientology, Suri Cruise, in a June 2012 cover story for InTouch. Bauer’s lawyers asked Tommy all kinds of questions about his job and are trying to prove that InTouch’s story wasn’t filled with more fairy tales than any given chapter in Dianetics. Tommy admitted that after Katie Holmes ripped up their marriage certificate and fed it to John Travolta’s hungry hungry b-hole, he didn’t see Suri for 100 days. Tommy said that he was busy filming and just couldn’t get away even though he can make a private jet appear just by snapping his fingers.
According to TMZ, Tommy said that in the past four years, he’s only put his ass on a commercial flight once and it was because he had no choice. Tommy also said that he doesn’t always need to see Suri in person, because he’s such a wonderful storyteller that all the stories he tells her over the phone are so vivid that they come to life. Tommy’s voice is like liquid acid for your brain. That crazy fucking bitch. But you know, I kind of see what he’s saying, because if he fed wonderful stories about L. Ron Hubbard into my ear, I’d envision a vivid intergalactic volcano and it would look so real that I’d want to throw myself into it.
Tommy also tried to make his job seem so demanding and so important by comparing it to fighting in Afghanistan and competing in the Olympics. It’s official. Thetans have entered Tommy Girl’s asshole, crawled up to his head and have nibbled whatever is left of his brains. The insane foolery via TMZ
Tom says his location shoots are just like serving a tour in Afghanistan, “That’s what it feels like. And certainly on this last movie, it was brutal. It was brutal.”
As for his physical training, Tom said, “There is difficult physical stamina and preparation. Sometimes I’ve spent months, a year, and sometimes two years preparing for a single film.” But the kicker, he adds, “A sprinter for the Olympics, they only have to run two races a day. When I’m shooting, I could potentially have to run 30, 40 races a day, day after day.”
Tommy is so right. Acting in some action movie is just like fighting for your country. Everybody knows that every troop has a body double to do all the shooting and fighting stuff for them. After about an hour or two of fake battling with extras, each troop goes back to their multi-million dollar, air-conditioned trailer and as one of their assistant feeds them cuisine flown in from Italy, a massage therapist massages their sphincter and then another assistant reads them an e-mail their daughter sent them so they can say they spent time with her. Then each troop gets their hair and make-up touched up and as they walk back to the battle ground, one assistant spritzes them with Evian as another one holds up a fan to keep them cool in the one million degree heat. And after a day of fake fighting, a helicopter takes them back to their 5-star luxury hotel. Yes, being a millionaire movie star is just like facing death every single day!
I swear, if you put an E-meter can in Tommy’s hand and asked him if he knows how full of shit he is, the E-meter can would explode as soon as he spit out the N in NO. If you dropped Tommy’s ass in Afghanistan, the first thing he’d say is, “Where’s the Escalade that’ll take me to the Four Seasons?”
But Tommy’s lawyer told People that TMZ distorted his words. Here’s the new definition of “backtracking“:
“The assertions that Tom Cruise likened making a movie to being at war in Afghanistan is a gross distortion of the record. What Tom said, laughingly, was that sometimes, ‘That’s what it feels like.’ As the video shows, he and the lawyer were laughing at his answer, and, when asked in the next question if the situations were comparable, Tom said, ‘Oh, come on,’ meaning of course not.’”
Tommy went on to say, “…of course not. My job is WAY harder. I mean, one time I had to fly commercial to a shooting location. Can you imagine? Guh-ross, right?“
In Tori Spelling’s latest memwhys (at book number six I can’t even call it her “memoirs” anymore), she offers up yet another little tidbit out of the “Bitch, who asked you?” pile, saying when she posed for US Weekly after having her fourth baby, she lied about how she lost the weight.
‘For several months, I couldn’t really exercise,’ she writes. ‘There were a couple reasons. First, there was some risk that my scar would open up again. I was terrified of that.
‘Second, I really don’t exercise much, period. So I took my weight the old-fashioned way. I like to call it the Just Keep Your Fucking Mouth Shut and Eat Air diet. It’s all the rage.’
However, when Tori took part in a bikini shoot with Us Weekly magazine, she told them she lost weight through swimming. ‘My publicist had given me clear instructions about what to say about my weight loss,’ she explains.
We can all agree that nobody would mind if Tori took the Just Keep Your Fucking Mouth Shut diet and applied to every other aspect of her life, but that doesn’t pay for a husband’s dicksnip surgery, their lavish sham of a lifestyle or whatever harness she has to wear to keep her whackassed boob job from completely collapsing in on itself. C-sections are no joke and the recovery can be hard, but why lie in the first place? Oh, that’s right- if she half-truths everything as she goes along, she’ll have enough fodder for her 486th book to set the record straight and maybe make enough off sales to send her kids to Pasadena Community College.
Un-bleach your brains for a hot second to get a good mental picture of Kim K. here, here and here and allow yourself to giggle over the fact that her first post-baby interview was done for London’s Sunday Times Style (via US Weekly). She reached deep down into her kiddie pool-sized brain to say that she makes fashion decisions to please her man.
“You want your guy to think you’re really hot. I’ll put something on and he’ll [Kanye] say, ‘No, that doesn’t look good’, and I’ll trust him.’”
Sorry, but this isn’t the fourth grade, your relationship is not a sleepover and you can bet your pastry bag of an inflated ass that I wouldn’t keep doing fashion trust falls with a bitch who dropped me on my ass in a big way more than once. Sure, I want my man to think I look hot, but if I were Kim, I’d stop believing that shit after the first time a Met Gala guest mistook me for a sofa in the lobby. But that would require Kim to have two brain cells willing to come together and do some thinking and we all know that isn’t going to happen any time soon.
She also barfed out how much weight she’s lost on Atkins and how little she’s exercised (I do think she should get some credit for getting that white bathing suit on without ricocheting herself into the neighbor’s backyard) because she doesn’t want to leave her baby (except when her grown ass toddler of a man demands she be in Paris) and how even that barely-off-the-tit baby influences her fashion choices.
“I want to dress a little lighter colorwise. I think North looks cute in light colors, and then I want to wear light colors,” she reasons. “North doesn’t typically wear pink, though. She wears mauve or blush, not, like, typical baby pink.”
Listen up, bitches. That baby’s colors are BLUSH and BASHFUL. No common baby pink good enough for the likes of the unwashed masses shall be worn by NorthSouthEastLeftRightU-turn West.
Pic via Wenn.com
Because we’re still treating that VMAs twerking shit like it’s the only thing that has ever happened in the history of the Earth (yes, I’m guilty and will punish myself by watching it again in slow motion while sober), The Mighty Oprah asked Alan Thicke’s son about it during Sunday’s episode of Oprah’s Next Chapter. Even though there were rehearsals and Robin Thicke obviously knew that Miley’s Amber Alert ass was going to rub up against his crotch, he played innocent and said that he wasn’t really paying attention to her during their performance.
“That’s all on her. People ask me, ‘Do you twerk?’ I’m like, ‘Listen, I’m the twerkee. I’m twerked upon. I don’t twerk myself, okay? I’m just twerked upon.’
I was on stage. I didn’t see it. So to me, I’m walking out towards Miley [and] I’m not thinking sex. I’m thinking fun, you know? I mean her and I don’t have that kind of – You have to remember, I’m singing my butt off. I’m sitting there. I’m looking up at the sky, and I’m not really paying attention to all that.”
The inside of Robin Thicke’s head probably looks a lot like my browser history: porn, porn, porn, porn, porn, porn, puppy videos, porn, porn, porn, porn, directions to nearest Del Taco, porn, porn, porn. Replace “puppy videos” and “directions to nearest Del Taco” with “Adult Friend Finder” and “70spimpsuits.com,” and that’s exactly what the inside of Robin Thicke’s head looks like. So he’s full of shit for saying that he wasn’t thinking about sex while singing a song about sex, because he’s always thinking about sex. Robin’s crotch was to Miley Cyrus’ ass as Janet Jackson’s nipple was to Justin Timberlake’s paw. That fuckery train had two conductors.
And I’m not going to watch Oprah’s Next Chapter on Sunday, because I love my TV too much and I’d have to take a sledgehammer to it if Oprah attempted to twerk on Robin’s crotch.
Here’s Robin doing an impersonation of all of the Nymphomaniac posters while performing in Liverpool last night.
There was a time when Hugh JackMeOff and John Palermo were producing partners (you decide what they were producing together) and were joined at the (insert your body parts of choice here). Hugh and John ran a production company called Seed Productions (SEED!) together and John was a producer on X-Men Origins: Wolverine and Deception. Three years ago, Hugh and John broke up, took a cum rag to Seed Productions and went their separate ways. Hugh wanted to focus on acting and John got a new deal at Fox. Well, The Hollywood Reporter says that John’s deal with Fox ended a year ago and since then he’s been entertaining himself by spreading the racist and gay-hating fuckery on Facebook. Here’s just some of the shit he spewed out of his finger tips before he shut down his Facebook page.
On The Chenbot’s eyelid surgery: “I’m crazy about Julie Chen!!! Now that her eyes are finally open, she should leave Monster Moonves.”
On Kim and Kanye Kardashian’s mansion in Bel Air: “There goes the neighborhood!!! It looks like a Poor Persian Palace, where’s Kris Jenner when you need her?! #MoneyCantBuyADumbNiggaClass.”
On Anderson Cooper’s man opening a new bar in NYC: “#SmellsLikeLubeAndHIV.”
John told THR that his brain hasn’t crawled to the edge and jumped. He’s just a bored asshole living in the Valley and what do you do when you’re a bored asshole living in the Valley? You talk shit on the Internet, of course. Why is everybody looking at ME like that? Here’s what John said:
“Maybe people [who take offense] will look in the mirror and say, ‘When was the last time I called Les Moonves and asked for an African-American to play opposite me?’ I stopped caring about what Hollywood thinks of me years ago. I’ve got nothing to lose, nothing to gain. I’m a bored dude, unemployed, sitting at home in the Valley. For me, some of the best ways to overcome serious issues is to laugh about them. Because then you truly understand where that ignorance is coming from.”
Yup, he crazy. John is obviously going to do the damage control shuffle into rehab, but since he’s unemployed and probably sleeps all day, he can’t play the “exhaustion” card. Well, I guess he can play the “Hugh Jackman pulled out of my life” card, because that’s a valid reason to check into rehab.
I completely forgot about that movie where Goopy Paltrow plays a sex addict and that’s because my brain really doesn’t want to think about that flaccid pencil dick in a blond wig as a sex addict. I was reminded about it, because it comes out this week and Goopy was on Chelsea Lately last night to promote it. Because Goopy’s movie is about sluts addicted to ass, Chelsea jokingly said that she’s a sex addict in real life. In a hotel room somewhere, Chris Martin lifted his head up off of his side trick’s crotch and let out the cackle of all cackles.
Chelsea also brought up Goopy’s upcoming 41st birthday and when she asked her what she was doing it for it, bitch said, “This year it’s Chick-Fil-A and that’s it.”
CHICK-FIL-A! She would.
I would’ve guessed that out of all the fast food places, Fishsticks would want to eat at Long John Silver’s, because she’d get off from eating herself. But seriously, I doubt Goopy taints her pristine temple of a body with any kind of processed shit. What she meant is that the only thing she’s going to eat for her birthday is the filet of an endangered bald eagle chick. That’s what she meant.
Here’s Goopy and Pink and Carey Hart at the premiere of Thank You For Sharing in Hollywood last night.
Babies suffering from diaper rash cry and whine less than the Difficult Brown does.
Chris Brown has to complete 1,000 more community service hours in Los Angeles County by next August, because the District Attorney found out that he faked a lot of the community service hours he had to complete for pleading guilty to beating RiRi. If any of us regulars got caught faking our community service hours, we’d probably be in jail, trying to figure out how to make Cronuts out of leftover pancakes and Honey Buns. But since the Difficult Brown has a fancy lawyer, he struck a deal with prosecutors and agreed to do the community service hours he never did in the first place and they agreed to not pursue charges against him for faking his hours. Everybody, except the poor soul who has to supervise Fist Brown and humanity, wins! But of course, since the Difficult Brown has to always be difficult, he spit the pacifier out of the throbbing whine hole on his face and cried, cried, cried about how the D.A. is a racist and is out to get him. TMZ says that the D.A. is a black woman, so there’s that. Here’s the latest tweetarrhea stream of woe that Chris Brown shat out:
That’s the kind of rant an 8-year-old Kanye busted out when he got caught cheating on a math test. That’s the kind of rant Paula Deen busted out when the Food Network dropped her. The drama! Chris Brown should probably cut his coke with Xanax from now, because he’s showing all of us that coke rage is real.
The Difficult Brown could learn a thing or two from his fellow criminal Lindsay Lohan. You don’t outright tell the judge to fuck off on Twitter. You do it with style, elegance and grace by writing “FUCK U” on your nail.
Britain’s Grain of Salt Daily (aka The Sun, which you now have to pay to read online IN THIS ECONOMY) asked would-be 9/11 hero Marky Mark to piss out a little advice to Justin Bieber from one third degree douche burn to another. Marky, who along with Vanilla Ice are the blueprints of Justin Bieber’s life and spent the early part of his career with his pants on the ground, gave this advice to the Biebs (via Digital Spy):
“Justin, are you listening? Don’t be so naughty, yeah? Be a nice boy, pull your trousers up, make your mom proud and stop smoking weed, you little b**tard. He’s a teenager living in a different day and age. I was in prison before I got a record out and I don’t think he’s been to prison.
He’s a nice enough kid and you’re going to be a teenager, but if you’re being a teen in the spotlight you’re going to be criticized for it. This career can be short-lived – you might as well be the best you can while you’re doing it.”
I read that as “buttard” and I refuse to correct myself.
Justin Bieber is as pleasant as a tongue full of cold sores and he should probably be tranquilized and stored in a cage somewhere until he’s done with puberty, but at least there’s not a Vietnamese man in the Boston area who can’t see shit thanks to him. So maybe the Biebs isn’t doing that bad considering. Ugh. And I hate hate HATE that buttard Marky Mark for making me defend that little shit. I need a Hazmat shower now.
Here’s Marky Mark in London today.