Pimp Mama Kris Instagramm’d this nasty ass picture of her and her 3 whores today and besides the obvious comment of, “Where is a swarm of piranhas when you really need one?”, I have 4 comments about this mess:
2. E! calls this picture “a sexy family photo” (double heave) and thinks all these pieces of trash are topless. I’m pretty sure they’re wearing black swimsuits, but I’m sure that sometime next week PMK will tweet a picture of her and her hos topless, bottomless and spreading it for retweets.
3. I know Kim’s face looks Photoshopped in real-life, but her face really looks like it was copy+pasted there.
4. Speaking of copy+pasting, there’s a really easy way to make that picture a million times less heave-worthy. Just cover the faces of all those gutter tramps with Bruce Jenner’s pucker-inducing beautiful face.
Cops Have Advised Justin Bieber’s Neighbors To Put Him Under Citizen’s Arrest The Next Time He Throws A Party
This weekend, Justin Bieber threw a 2-day toddler rager at his condo in Beverly Hills in which the police were called six times for noise complaints and general assholery. Unfortunately for the poor souls who have to share a building with Canada’s constantly itchy butthole, there’s nothing the cops can do to prevent Justin from throwing more loud parties for his asshole friends, since he always turns down the music when they ask him to (sounds like someone was paying attention during the Backyardigans episode on manners).
But according to TMZ, his neighbors are right pissed, because it’s not just the noise; he’s turning their condo building into the island for obnoxious pre-teen shitheads from Pinocchio. TMZ obtained pictures showing the mess he left on the condo’s rooftop lounge, and residents have told them the elevators and hallways reeked of pot all weekend, adding that “There were bimbos lining up to do drugs in the lobby bathroom.” (I literally just pictured Kelly Bundy and her friends).
Despite photographic proof and numerous witnesses that claim Justin Bieber is a pint-sized nuisance, the cops claim they can’t arrest someone for a misdemeanour if they don’t see it happen. But they also claim that it is well within their legal rights to take matters into their own hands, since he’s currently on probation. The police have advised Justin’s condo neighbors that if they witness the human version of Babs Seed the Pony doing hoodrat shit in the building, they can put him under citizen’s arrest. Did you hear that? The police literally just gave Justin’s neighbors permission to ground him. The shade, the shade of it all.
And as much as I want to see a 60-year-old woman tackle Justin Bieber to the ground for smoking a joint in the vestibule, is that picture of the rooftop seriously the “mess” he left? Yikes. You know you throw a lame-ass party when you’re able to make Aaron Carter look like Studio 54 fucked Caligula.
File Under “BARF”: Brody Jenner Admits That Seeing Kim’s Half-Naked Tits On Vacation Gave Him A Semi
Any good will Brody Jenner sustained from ditching Kim Kardashian’s shameless pre-divorce ceremony just been completely thrown out the window. On a recent episode of Keeping Up With The Klassless Kall Girls, Brody Jenner “accidentally” walked in on The Narcoleptic Hooker Queen and her assistant in the middle of an Instagram photo shoot on the family’s vacation on Thailand. One of the rules in Kim’s contract with Satan states that she can’t take a picture without showing off her tits or ass, but since she was on a vacation with her family, she had to find a tasteful way to do it. So what did that clever slut do? She wrapped herself in a cheap white tablecloth from the dollar store and called it a dress.
Unfortunately, she “forgot” to wear underwear underneath, and Brody ended up getting an eyeful of his step-sister’s Botoxed nipples and porn star pussy. Kim quickly covered her rode-hard put-away never bits and told him to get out (nobody gets to see Kim’s moneymakers without forking over some cash to Pimp Mama Kris first). Brody ran to tell his brother and sister-in-law what he’d just seen, but instead of screaming for them to get a jug of bleach and a blow-torch while he collapsed into the fetal position and started cry-singing “Amazing Grace”, he admitted that seeing a half-naked melted off-brand Bratz doll turned him on. How much?
”Maybe just a half-chub.”
Never has the word “maybe” grossed me out more than it does at this moment. And I’m not grossed out by the fact that he got a semi-hard boner from seeing his hooker-looking tramp step-sister wearing a stripper dress. Well, I mean, I am, because that’s some
Flowers Skanky Weeds in the Attic bullshit. No, I’m more offended that he would use the word “chub”. EW! The only thing worse would be if he had gone full-disgusting and said “chubby” (or its less-shameful, but still gross cousin, “stiffy”). I don’t know where he learned such drunk jock language, but it certainly wasn’t from his father. Bruce Jenner is too classy to EVER call his erect penis something as distasteful as a “chub” (obviously he refers to it as his “trouser javelin“).
In “Skank Dumpster Trash You Haven’t Thought About In Years” news, TMZ says that early this morning in Malibu, a raggedy fight broke out between meth-faced Jeremy Jackson (aka Hobie from Baywatch) and two dried balls of smegma that humanity squirted out of its ass 10 years ago. Jeremy Jackson tells TMZ that he ended up with a busted eye after he got a beat down delivered to him by Brandon “Fat Elvis” Davis, Wonky McValtrex and others. Those dumb whores. Couldn’t they have waited for Dlisted’s 10th anniversary in January to give us this gutter gift from 2005?
Jeremy tells TMZ he was at a party at Wonky’s rented house in Malibu last night and at around 2 this morning, Fat Elvis and other nasty pieces of L.A. trash attacked him and cracked a liquor bottle over his head. Jeremy didn’t say why they came after him, but he did say that they’re all “degenerate fame whores.” The cops tell TMZ that they got 2 separate calls from 2 separate people at the party who claimed they got attacked by the other one. One of the two people was Wonky’s brother (probably Barron Hilton). Nobody wanted to press charges, so nobody was arrested and the cops left. Jeremy gave TMZ this picture of his busted eye and he says his attackers were “literally going Rodney King on my ass.”
Yes, because an orange has-been getting his ass beat by a bunch of spoiled, useless human viruses at a Malibu beach house is just like a Rodney King situation. Either the meth ate whatever was left inside of Hobie’s head or that scratch on his eye got infected and spread to his brain. And that “owwie” looks like the infection a dude gets after Wonky sits on his face and squirts.
And Fat Elvis earning the 8-balls Wonky gives him by beating tricks she tells him to beat up tells us that everything is fine and well in the 2005 exhibit of the fame whore zoo and we can keep it moving.
Since we’re on the subject of Jeremy Jackson’s beautifully sculpted orange meth face, here he is at Chippendales 3 years ago.
“That’s nothing; she’s only spent 9 hours with me since I was born” – North West.
It seems that clever hooker Kim Kardashian has found a krafty way to make sure her latest sham of a marriage lasts longer than the previous one. According to Radar, Kim and her current husband Kanye West have only spent 9 days together since getting married 48 days ago, the majority of which were spent during their honeymoons. Ugh, remember how those assholes had two honeymoons? LOOKS LIKE IT WAS WORTH IT.
An “insider” (Pimp Mama Kris, do you ever take a break?) claims that Kim and Kanye have started living separate lives ever since Kanye discovered that his My Size Barbie only cares about Botox, herself, mirrors, herself, herself, herself, and Botox:
“Kanye now recognizes that Kim’s main interest are shopping and lounging around a pool,” the insider said. “It’s really concerning to Kanye that Kim doesn’t even want to try to experience new things.”
That’s not exactly fair; Kim tries plenty of new things. For starters, she’s sampled nearly every penis in the NBA. She’s always on the look-out for new black-market facial fillers. Not to mention how she tries a new husband every two years. Hell, she’s even trying to be a working mother, even though she neither works nor spends time with her child. If that’s not ambitious, I don’t know what is.
Besides, why does Kim need to spend time with Kanye right now? Filming for the 2-part KUWTK divorce episode doesn’t start for another couple of months.
And in case you need more pictures of Satan’s klassiest narcoleptic-faced hooker in your life, here’s Kim looking well-rested and alert at the Valentino show in Paris yesterday, as well as attending a Vogue party with the illiterate model one. Both times she decided to wear those sandals that make her feet look like stale loaves of challah, I see.
Because Farrah Abraham is an entrepreneurial genius who knows that most people said to themselves, “Hmmm, I could really go for some creamy yogurt right now,” while watching her squirt in her porn, she’s opening up a frozen yogurt place in Austin, TX this October. Backdoor Farrah calls Froco Fresh Frozen a “brand new concept” and since she has dingles for brains, a “brand new concept” to her is a place that sells frozen yogurt and other frozen foods. Froco’s mascot is a terrifying “popping boba” named Coba and Backdoor Farrah probably got the idea for it while watching a string of anal beads go in and out of her b-hole. That’s how Coba the Anal Bead was born!
Backdoor Farrah tells Starcasm that she came up with the concept of Froco (she should’ve called it “Stinkberry“) all by herself. Froco will sell fresh and frozen cuisines in a family atmosphere. Farrah really is a culinary mastermind, because I’ve never heard of a place that sells both fresh AND frozen foods. I’ve never heard of something called a fucking grocery store. The about section of Froco’s website (which I’ll get into in a second) obviously came from the shit-filled mind of Farrah, because it is equal parts frozen delusion and nonsense, and it reads like it was written by a dried ball of poop cum:
The founder of Froco, was set to open a restaurant concept when the now first location and property of Froco was available. Instead of going with the first planned restaurant concept the founder had a better feeling about Froco. There was a lot to be completed with an unplanned great concept, so the founder of Froco thought about the possibilities to buy into another franchise of the similar sort but then realizing after being excepted to the other growing franchises of the similar sort that their values, their brands weren’t as great as what the founder could live up too. So with passion and positivity the founder wanted feedback on her Froco idea. After asking others in salons, playgrounds, stores, and just everywhere the founder was set on Froco and the mascot being Coba the popping boba! …
The founder felt strongly compelled to include Greek yogurt in to as many of the food products at Froco as possible which are found in certain flavors of frozen yogurt and all the freshly made to go food items. The founder after moving to Texas at the age of 22 right before the creation of Froco was told by her doctor to better her health with plain Greek yogurt. Being the foodie that the founder is, the founder put Greek yogurt in everything – sandwiches, pastas, salads, wraps, sushi, desserts and the founder was happy to taste better enhancement of flavors with the Greek yogurt in all the food options. The founder found the balance of taste, health, and quality and wanted to bring this to everyone’s lifestyle all year round. …
The founder Farrah Abraham is recognized nationally for her success in entertainment as well being a wonderful mother to her daughter Sophia who at age 5 has helped every step of the way in creating a lovable, positive, passionate and educational mascot for Froco, “Coba” The popping boba, who you may put on your frozen yogurt and feel a pop of passion and positivity every time you visit Froco.
You know, Backdoor Farrah opening up a gourmet emporium that sells yogurt and bubble tea makes sense. I mean, Greek yogurt is a yeast infection remedy (you know that’s why her doctor told her about it) and boba pearls can be used as disintegrating anal beads.
And as for the website (via Uproxx), this morning, a hacker doing God’s work hacked it and on the front page they put a GIF of James Deen backdooring Farrah. Here’s the censored version co-starring Coba the Anal Bead:
Maybe the site wasn’t hacked. Maybe Farrah’s just showing us how the fresh Greek yogurt is made. Whatever you do, DO NOT order the “one cup” special at Froco.
Here’s more proof that bad things happen when Miley Cyrus and Wayne Coyne from The Flaming Lips get together.
I thought that Wayne Coyne getting a janky prison tattoo of Miley Cyrus’ dead dog inked into his flesh was the worst decision involving Miley that he’s ever made, but he proved me wrong with this way-too-long acid nightmare of a movie that melted parts of my brain about 15 seconds in. This is Nancy Reagan’s new favorite movie and she wishes it would’ve come out in the 80s, because it’s the perfect anti-drugs PSA.
The video, which The Flaming Lips call “Blonde SuperFreak Steals the Magic Brain” and Guantanamo Bay officials call “our new favorite torture device,” starts out with a rejected John Waters character stealing JFK’s brain (which has the formula for LSD in it) from a half-dead Miley. That first shot of a barely alive Miley drooling out foam is you while watching this video. Moby, who did himself like Pimp Mama Kris in her purest form, plays a cult leader who orders his minions, Lesbian Bigfoot and Nympho Manson Girl, to steal the glob of acid slime from Miley. Wayne described that mess like this to Rolling Stone:
“The video story is something like this: Moby is an evil, power-hungry cult leader. He wants the world’s most valuable (according to our story) psychedelic supernatural possession… John F. Kennedy’s brain….the brain contains the original formula for the drug LSD!!!
Miley Cyrus has the magic brain!!! And Moby enlists a nympho Manson girl-type blonde superfreak to go steel the brain from Cyrus.
She steals the brain from Cyrus while Cyrus is still in bed in a drug-induced coma. Cyrus finally wakes up and is mega-pissed that her BRAIN has been stolen. She enlists a burned-faced Santa and a lesbian Bigfoot ( that are hovering in a nearby spaceship) to hunt down the blond superfreak that stole her brain. They have a relentless pursuit, all the while Cyrus laments the loss of her magic brain and Moby gains powerful rainbows from hell. In the end, the blond superfreak kills Santa and Bigfoot and a baby mole ends up with the brain…”
The TL;DR version of Wayne Coyne’s description is: “I love drugs!”
This is something that a freshmen film major who thinks they’re the next David Lynch would make and edit while blindfolded and high on freon, because they really want to impress their professor James Franco.
If you really want to put your will to live to the test, watch the NSFWness below. If you make it past 10 seconds like I did, I’ll see you in the check-in area of Bellevue, because we obviously need serious help and shouldn’t be allowed to make decisions for ourselves.
Maybe I need to brush up on my boating safety, but it was my understanding that any child under 90 lbs or 12 years of age was required by law to wear a PFD with one of those foam headrest things and a crotch belt. Then again, would it even matter? The rules don’t apply to Caillou’s spoiled Stratford cousin Justin Bieber. Forget wearing a life jacket, I bet it was difficult enough getting him to wear his Little Swimmers.
It looks like Justin Bieber is spending Independence Day chartering the S.S. Douchecanoe around Miami. Since I’m a maple-dipped dum-dum, I don’t know much about Independence Day, but what I’ve pieced together from beer commercials and Jeopardy! is that July 4th is the day Benjamin Franklin dumped several crates of tea into Boston Harbour and then got into a fist-fight with Uncle Sam. Then Betsey Ross (who I think is George Washington’s daughter?) made the American flag, and also something about a guy named Yankee Candle Dandy and flying a kite in a thunderstorm? Anyways, what I’m trying to get at is that I have no idea if you’re supposed to celebrate Independence Day in your underwear on a rented boat surrounded by bodyguards and budget Kardashian-looking call girls like Justin Bieber has chosen to do, but it seems about right to me.
Here’s more of Justin Bieber celebrating America’s Birthday (I think??) on a boat with some hoes. In the event they aren’t hookers (they are, but whatever, let’s pretend), that one in the red mesh swimsuit needs to take a good look in the mirror and ask herself why in the hell would she spend a day hanging out with Justin Bieber in taped-up nipples for free?? And don’t say it was for the booze; for $0 she could have gotten drunk in Mr. Turtle the backyard without torturing her nipple bumps with electrical tape. Rip off that tape and set your nipples free, bitch! It’s America Day! U-S-A! U-S-A!
Well well well, what do we have here? If it isn’t The Deaner redefining raw sexuality YET AGAIN. Happy Belated Canada Day to me! Seeing The Deaner’s booze-bloated beer locker busting out of a pair of Carhart overalls makes me wanna put my hand over my heart and sing. Oh Canadaaaa….our home of beady-eyed traaaaash….
Tori Spelling, the poor little bleached camel with the heart of hardened silicone has decided to follow up her reality show about arguing with her loser bangaholic husband in therapy with a reality show about arguing with her loser bangaholic husband at a cottage. Damn Tori, SLOW DOWN! Bitch must think she’s filming the desperate fame whore version of The Amazing Race.
Radar says Tori & Dean: Cabin Fever was filmed last summer up in Ontario and will air on the Great American Country channel. So if you really want to see 13 episodes of Admiral Ackbar screeching at The Deaner to quit jerking it in the boathouse and start painting the Muskoka chairs, then call up your local cable provider and ask them to suspend your service, because you need to check into an insane asylum and don’t know when you’ll be let out.
Since the show takes place in Canada, the producers thought it would be fun to let The Deaner write the press release for it. BIG MISTAKE:
“Hey jabronis, you missed me? Here’s what’s crappenin’ with the ol’ Deaner – I got a job! And like a job-job, not a blow job or a hand job or that thing the chicks in the Valley are doing called a knee job. The Deaner realized that if he wanted to keep scoring primo tail he needs to be on television, so I got the wife to piece together some old footage of me bumming around up north at the cottage and sell it as a reality show. But don’t worry, they edited out the part where I gave that chick from the marina crabs. The Deaner don’t wanna cock block The Deaner, you know what I mean??”
I know, it’s weird seeing Robin Thicke’s fingers when they’re not up his side piece’s cooze.
After getting beautifully trolled by Twitter, Alan Thicke’s son took his ass to Ebro in the Morning on New York’s Hot97 (Side note: They should’ve temporarily changed the name to Ebola in the Morning when Robin Thicke was on) to push the creepy album of “get Paula back” songs that Paula Patton could use against him to get a restraining order if she wasn’t in on it since more publicity equals more cash. The Summer’s Eve lothario, who has aired all of his douche laundry in an album that’s predicted to flop, says that he’s trying to keep most of his break-up with Paula private, but then he said that he hasn’t seen her face in person for months.
“I try to keep most of that private, but, I haven’t seen her for four months. If you’ve been together that long, you kinda became adults together instead of being adults and then meeting. But maybe a year or two off, we’ll become our own people without each other and then it will be meant to be.”
I don’t think Robin is telling the whole truth. If the break-up isn’t one big, giant PR stunt orchestrated by the both of them and Paula really doesn’t want to be with him, then I bet he has seen her plenty of times in the past four months even though she hasn’t seen him. I’m sure Robin sneaks into her house in the middle of the night and after he watches her sleep and smells her breath, he jacks off into her panty drawer while silently weeping. I think he wrote a song about that. Speaking of songs, Robin says that Paula hasn’t heard all of them:
“She hasn’t heard [the album],” the crooner admitted. “She’s only heard a few songs. I don’t think she wants to hear it right now. I can’t speak for her, but I think space is an important part of any healing process. She’s the best girl in the world, a great mother, and still a good friend. I want to wish her well and let her know that she’s a great person and she deserves to have a good life… She was my rock… Everything we have right now, we built together.”
And Robin says that their marriage didn’t die because his wandering dick blew the lid off of their open marriage ways:
“[Cheating] is not why we’re apart. We’re apart because we just couldn’t be together anymore for a while. There’s a hundred different reasons, there isn’t just one. There’s a long list… I changed, and I got a little too selfish, a little too greedy, and little too full of myself.”
Yes, Robin is really showing that he’s shed his doucheness, because nothing says “unselfish” like putting out an album full of creepy stalker songs about your ex and then talking about your ex in interview after interview to sell as many copies of said creepy album as possible. Robin has totally changed! Robin is no longer a douche (but that vinegar and dead wildflowers odor that wafts up out of your twat every time you see his face tells you otherwise).
And here’s the video for one of Robin’s creepy songs. Yes, Robin brought the children into it, but I’m just glad that he dressed them in outfits from the J. Crew bridal catalog instead of making them wear what the Blurred Lines chicks wore, or didn’t wear. At least he’s showing SOME restraint.