I guess “It’s the mosquito’s fault!” is the new “The black kid was driving!”
Yes, we’re doing this again. Well, the joke’s on all of us whores who thought that Lindsay Lohan was actually to leave the delusion and self-entitlement in 2014 and shock the world by actually getting her shit together.
TMZ says that on Wednesday, we may get another court room fashion show, because LiLo is supposed to show her face in front of a judge after she allegedly didn’t complete all of her community service hours. LiLo had until November 6, 2014 to show the court that she finished all 240 hours of her community service. But on that day, her lawyer Shawn Holley could only prove that she did half of those hours. The judge gave LiLo until next Wednesday to complete all 240 hours, but a source tells TMZ she isn’t even close to finishing.
The judge in L.A. allowed LiLo to do her community service in London. LiLo’s excuse is that the community service center in London was closed for 2 weeks for the holidays. She was going to finish her hours after the center opened up again, but she got struck down with that Chumbawamba virus and ended up in the hospital. As TMZ points out, LiLo got the virus while vacationing in Bora Bora instead of doing her community service in London.
TMZ says that LiLo could end up in jail if she doesn’t finish all her community service by January 28th.
Oh please, the chance of me getting knocked up with Prince Hot Ginge’s baby is greater than the chance of Lindsay Lohan going to jail. The judge will probably let her go after she argues that she did Speed-The-Plow in London and that should count as community service since she gifted the public with her amazing talent and youthful beauty. We all know what’s really going to happen. As soon as LiLo tells the judge that a mosquito kept her from doing community service, the judge is going to order the LAPD to use all of their resources to track down that mosquito and bring it in. LiLo can do no wrong so it has to be that mosquito’s fault. Jail that mosquito immediately! That’s if it didn’t turn green and melt as soon as it bit into her.
Seen above with four friends he really relates to on an intellectual level, the mutated dirty tampon Adam Levine was on Howard Stern yesterday and Howard brought up Adam’s appearance on Lindsay Lohan’s list of famous and famous-ish slam pieces. The first rule of The Lindsay Lohan Fuck Piece Club is that you NEVER EVER admit to being in The Lindsay Lohan Fuck Piece Club. Because if you ever say the words, “I boned Lindsay Lohan,” the CDC will drop from the sky, drag you into a quarantine tent and boil your skin in hot ammonia for 30 days before tagging you and releasing you back into the wild. If you screw LiLo, you keep that between you, her and the new STD you two made while rubbing your skank bodies together. James Franco keeps denying that he ever stuck his douche stick in LiLo’s freckled plate of Hamburger Helper and now Adam Levine is denying the same thing.
“That’s not true. I did not have sexual intercourse with Lindsay Lohan.
When Howard asked Adam why dudes won’t admit to screwing LiLo, he dribbled out this nonsensical dingle:
That’s because I think we’re being truthful about that very specific thing. I can fucking see it on the paper, I’m getting much better at this!”
I don’t know what that means and I don’t think Adam Levine knows what that means. The burning sensation in his peen lips reminding him that he probably did screw Lindsay Lohan messed with his brains and he shat out a word salad without the dressing. You know, if a jar of old kitchen grease had tits, Adam Levine would fuck that jar full of old kitchen grease. He’d probably do it if it didn’t have tits, so I’m sure he did bone LiLo. But like every dude who bones LiLo, he’s never going to admit it unless he runs out of money, needs medical attention and wants to get to the front of the line at the free clinic.
Adam also did an interview with GQ where he was asked how he feels about being called a douchebag:
“Would it be really easy to assume that I was a douchebag? Definitely. One hundred percent. But that doesn’t mean that I am. Or maybe I am, I don’t know. Okay. So I’m gonna get really intricately self-reflective right now and ask myself the hard questions, to find out, once and for all, definitively, whether or not I’m a douchebag.”
All together now, “SPOILER ALERT, YES, you’re a douchebag!”
GQ also asked him why does it seem like he only dates models. Adam let out another stream of rambling foolery:
“Preference should never be looked down upon. Unless it’s based on something really shitty. I’m not saying I have a preference, but like, I want to date someone. Listen, there are a lot of women in this country, in many countries, who date men for their money. Okay? That’s despicable. Right? That’s not what we’re talking about here. Whatever does it for you, man. I don’t like feet. You know what I mean? But some people do. Some people have fucking foot fetishes. And it’s weird to me. But I don’t have to deal with it, because I don’t have that. You know?”
Listening to Adam on Howard Stern and reading his GQ interview made me like him for a split, quick millisecond. He is a mess. Listening to and reading his thought process is like watching a drunk bitch with physical Tourettes speed down the freeway in a car with a stuck shifter. He goes all over the place and I keep waiting for him to crash and get to the point. He’s like a Woody Allen character if Woody Allen wrote a movie for the Vice crowd.
And here’s the living and breathing positive gonorrhea test outside of Letterman yesterday.
That episode of Late Night with Seth Meyers where the world’s greatest American Jennifer Lawrence said she barfed at some fancy Oscar party in front of Miley Cyrus finally aired last night. Jennifer told Seth that she and her friend went to Madge’s after-Oscar party and she ended up vomming all over the patio. No, Jennifer didn’t barf because she was so disgusted by all the self-important assholes yanking each other’s dicks at that party. She barfed because the drunks got to her. Jennifer said that after she yacked, she turned around and Miley Cyrus was standing there like, “Get it together.” You know, it’s funny, because an entire world has been telling Miley’s ass to get it together. Well, there’s a PLOT TWIST!
When someone tweeted the story, Miley responded and stamped the words “LIE TELLER” right on Jennifer Lawrence’s pathological liar forehead. Miley deleted it a quick minute later, but ONTD got a screencap:
Who to believe? Who to believe?
Do we believe Jennifer Lawrence who probably makes up funny stories all the time for interviews, because she’s got an image to sell? Or do we believe Miley Cyrus who probably doesn’t remember what happened 5 seconds ago, let alone what happened the night of the Oscars?
I’m guessing what really happened is that Jennifer Lawrence was so wasted out of her mind that she thought it was Miley Cyrus who was throwing looks of judgement at her, but it was actually Justin Bieber in sequined heart-shaped pasties and a candy thong. It’s an easy mistake.
Lindsay Lohan Won’t Swear Under Oath About That Miscarriage Because She Wants The Court To Respect Her Privacy
HA! The only two words that make less sense together than Lohan and Privacy are Kardashian and Privacy. Then again, Lindsay Lohan has dried hair extension glue and coke dust for brains, so she probably thinks that going 24-hours without notifying the paps that her drunk freckled ass will be stumbling out of a club counts as private.
Earlier this week, it was reported that the Apricot Ashtray tried to weasel her way out of paying $5 million to D.N.A.M. Apparel, the company that made her 6126 line of cheap-looking stretch pants, by using the miscarriage she admitted to on OWN’s Lindsay as an excuse for why she never responded to their lawsuit, going so far as to swearing in court documents that she was dealing with a miscarriage.
However, TMZ says that lawyers for D.N.A.M. Apparel know that you don’t have to be Miss Cleo to guess that Lohan is mouth-farting out lies, but are willing to give her the benefit of the doubt by having her swear under oath in a court of law on either a bible, a bottle of vodka, or a stack of Life Size DVDs that she’s telling the truth. Ruh roh! The t-t-t-truth? What’s that?!?
Since telling the truth is a foreign concept, and lying on the stand isn’t an option since her acting skills made a break for it somewhere around the time she made I Know Who Killed Me, Lohan had her lawyer respond with this:
“The court does not need the media circus that would ensue if counsel is allowed to invade Lohan’s privacy and delve into her mental state regarding her sobriety and miscarriage.”
Privacy? THIS BITCH! Does she think we all woke up with amnesia and somehow forgot about the time she accepted a bag full of Oprah Cash in exchange for letting a reality show camera crew follow her around? Besides, regardless of whether or not she takes the stand and pushes out some salty freckled tears over her “miscarriage”, it’s laughable that D.N.A.M. Apparel actually thinks they’ll get paid. Her lawyer should have just replied to their lawyers with a link to her IMDB page with a note that said “LOL, like this bitch has $5 million. Good one, guys.”
In the newest issue of Film Comment magazine, which has Lindsay Lohan on the cover looking like the most seasoned hooker in a discount brothel, director Paul Schrader writes about what it was like making the direct-to-Cinemax-After-Dark mess The Canyons. Anybody who read the priceless New York Times piece about The Canyons knows that making ass sex porn with a tapir is more pleasant than working on a movie with LiLo. Paul Schrader co-signs that in his piece for Film Comment, but also writes that even though LiLo is a hot needle shoved up his pee slit, she’s magic in front of the camera and is this generation’s Marilyn Monroe. The TRUE modern day Marilyn Monroe, Shauna Sand, would hit Paul in the face with her shoe, but she doesn’t want to dirty up her exquisite lucite heel.
Paul writes that Lindsay Lohan, star of Freaky Friday, is just like Marilyn Monroe, legendary star of too many classics to type, because she’s a messy unreliable wreck who the camera loves. Paul writes (via UsWeekly):
“Similarities? Tardiness, unpredictability, tantrums, absences, neediness, psychodrama—-yes, all that, but something more, that thing that keeps you watching someone on screen, that thing you can’t take your eyes off of, that magic, that mystery. [They both] exist in the space between actors and celebrities, people whose professional and personal performances are more or less indistinguishable. Entertainers understand the distinction. To be successful, a performer controls the balance between the professional and personal, that is, he or she makes it seem like the professional is personal. It is the lack of this control that gives performers like Monroe and Lohan (and others) their unique attraction. We sense that the actress is not performing, that we are watching life itself. We call them ‘troubled,’ ‘tormented,’ ‘train wrecks’ but we can’t turn away. We can’t stop watching.”
Um, anybody who has accidentally switched to I Know Who Killed Me and immediately switched away knows that we CAN stop watching. If your eye rolling muscles haven’t completely snapped off and your eyes got another roll or two in them, keep going:
“[Lindsay] has more natural acting talent [Marilyn]. Like Monroe, her weakness is her inability to fake it. She feels she must be experiencing an emotion in order to play it. This leads to all sorts of emotional turmoil, not to mention on-set delays and melodrama. It also leads, when the gods smile, to movie magic.”
Fuckery, foolery and falsities aside, it’s amazing that Paul Schrader can type all of those words while completely high out of his head on the coke that White Oprah gave him. It’s also amazing that Paul wrote that piece standing up while White Oprah poked his b-hole with her rolled tongue. That’s what I’m taking away from this piece anyway.
Above is a picture that is supposed to be the whoring whores of ungodly trash from Westboro Baptist Church picketing Whitney Houston’s funeral in New Jersey on Saturday. The picture was Tweeted by master whore of propaganda Margie Phelps. Below is an untouched picture from Whitney Houston’s funeral in New Jersey on Saturday without the shit stains from Westboro Photoshopped onto it.
Westboro declared that they were going to come to NJ to picket Whitney’s funeral, but those cowardly whore beasts never showed up and tried to make everyone believe that pieces of shit from their “church” were there by rubbing a clean picture on Photoshop’s dirty asshole. NJ.com confirms that there was restricted access in front of the church where Whitney’s funeral took place and no protesters showed up. HAHAHAHA @ those stupid bitches.
This is why I try not to feed those attention whoring hyenas from hell. They always say that they’re going to picket someone’s funeral and they don’t show up since making signs at Kinko’s drained their piggy banks and they can’t afford to buy a bus ticket. But this might be the first time that those stuntin’ trolls faked a protest by Photoshopping themselves into a picture.
Doesn’t Margie Phelp’s lying ass know that above everything GOD HATES PHOTOSHOP!!!!!!