Sharon Osbourne was on Graham Norton’s show at the end of November and told everybody (who didn’t ask or want to know) that the most excruciating plastic surgery procedure she ever had was vaginal rejuvenation. In a in a new interview with Howard Stern (via USWeekly), Sharon says she lied about having the procedure done as a joke while Howard called her ass out for backpedaling out of embarrassment.
On Wednesday morning, Osbourne described the hoax to Stern as a “flippant, stupid thing to be silly.” In return, the skeptical radio host pressed the British star for more information: “I feel like you did [get the surgery] and now you’re embarrassed to say it,” he said.
“I made it up,” retorted Ozzy Osbourne‘s wife of 31 years. “You’re saying you fabricated the whole thing?” an incredulous Stern demanded.
“I swear on my children’s lives I made it up — just to be flippant,” admitted the mother of Kelly and Jack. “How could I do that after I’ve had so much like, ill health?” she continued. “Now I’m going to start putting scaffolding up my vagina?” she quipped.
On one hand, I hope she did have the surgery, just as a safety net for all the other shit she’s done to herself. She’s had so many other things nipped, tucked, stuffed and plucked that if didn’t have her stage door closed, all her internal organs would eventually become unstable and fall like a Jenga tower straight out of her bagina and right on the damn floor. But on the other hand, if she left well enough alone, there would be a better chance Ozzy could stuff his peen in there and not have it look like he’s trying to shove a marshmallow in a piggy bank.
Here are some pics of Sharon and her maybe unratcheted crotchal situation in New York. Ugh, spending ANY time thinking about Sharon’s vagina situation, tightened or not, is making me queasy. It’s also undoing all the joy that spending a lot of time looking at food porn pics in the lasagna tag on Tumblr earlier this morning brought me. Thanks a fucking lot, Sharon.
So Johnny Depp was photographed in London on the set of Mortdecai looking like a mash up of Kevin Kline in Soapdish and Gary Oldman’s Commissioner Gordon and I don’t know how I feel about it. Normally Johnny goes straight to the “would fuck” column with very few exceptions (same goes for Kevin and Gary). He can keep Willy Wonka, who was one blur filter and a sassy collar hold away from being a pin-up for Glamorshots, and his creepy ass Frodo Baggins version of the Mad Hatter but otherwise, I thought he could get it anytime.
I already had enough fucking problems with my tears freezing this morning because my pansy assed, native Californian self can’t take this “four degrees with a fifteen below windchill” stuff. These pictures of Johnny in his Motel 6 bedspread shorty shorts and sock suspenders made my vagina cry and thanks to this bullshit weather, I’m pretty much an automatic ice dispenser from the waist down. It’s a sad day when not even the pics of him rolling around on the ground with another dude can turn my frozen tundra into a sunny lanai.
Call me when Johnny starts wearing forty-seven bracelets and six scarves again and his hair doesn’t look like it was harvested from a Cabbage Patch Cornsilk doll. When hot hobo Johnny is back, if you hear about the arrest of a 35 year old Midwest housewife who tried to tackle him while pointing at her crotch and screaming, “THERE SHOULD BE A CAPTAIN IN THERE SOMEWHERE!”, please have bail money ready.
I guess the only question left to ask is: would you hit it??
In the battle between Vanity Fair and Goopy Paltrow, Goopy Paltrow has won. That’s what Radar says anyway. The whitest and most pretentious war started when Vanity Fair wanted to do a cover story on Goopy and she shat on that offer, partly because she was on a 344-day diamond water and kumquat seed cleanse at the time, but mostly because she thinks the magazine is “off brand” for her. When VF made it clear they were going to do the story with or without her cooperation, she took out her 60 carat green diamond drop earrings (aka her daytime earrings), smeared rare Argan oil on her face, stuck Wusthof razors in her hair and declared war. Bitch was ready to fight.
Goopy supposedly told all of her friends to not talk to VF about her, and if they really wanted to be a VIP member of TEAM GOOP, they’d erase VF from their lives altogether. George Clooney sat in the bleachers on Goopy’s side of the auditorium and Julia Roberts sat on Vanity Fair’s side. LINES WERE DRAWN! Vanity Fair turned it up and started sniffing Goopy’s crotch for the scent of billionaire dick. The piece was supposed to be a glorious takedown and it was supposed to make Christmas extra special this year. Well, Vanity Fair has turned out to be that deadbeat dad who promises a trunkful of Christmas presents, but on Christmas morning shows up with zero presents, because he spent his entire paycheck on booze and pussy. A source tells Radar that VF’s Goop piece is going to be the opposite of scandalous.
“Whatever they wind up publishing, it’s going to be soft. Gwyneth’s campaign against the Vanity Fair article has apparently worked and she’s not as worried as she was three weeks ago. But the article is still coming out and she still refuses to participate in it.”
That’s our cue to start singing, “Didn’t We Almost Have It All” in unison.
The sad truth is I don’t think VF’s piece was ever going to be “hard.” Reading their piece is going to be like trying to suck a load out of a soft peen. You’re just going to keep reading and reading and reading hoping that something juicy will land on your eyes, but it won’t. You know it, I know it, the soft peen knows it. I mean, it sounds like the most scandalous thing they had on her was that she might’ve passed her poon to some billionaire once. Who cares.
I bet that in the parlor of her London townhouse, Goopy and Graydon Carter are sipping sparkling dolphin tears after toasting to their STUNT QUEEN victory. Vanity Fair got some publicity and Goopy looks like she has the power to scare whores. We’re the ones who really lost. I feel so used and I usually love that feeling.
NSFW pic of Gag Me’s pube situation after the jump!
Miley Cyrus’ name hasn’t dropped out of the internet’s mouth for about a minute, so in order to get hos talking about her again, she grabbed a box of Sally Hansen stache bleach, smeared it all over her brows and waited until she looked like an albino leopard gecko on Oxy and meth. (SPOILER ALERT: The albino leopard gecko works the “no brows” look better.)
Both Lily Allen and Miranda Kerr did Miley’s dirty work for her by Instagramming pictures of them next to her looking like a pimple on a bleached anus. Miley bleached her brows for a photo shoot and you can let your retinas know that they can stop hyperventilating, because the shoot wasn’t with Uncle Terry. Although, I have heard that a quick way to get the “no brows” look is to let Uncle Terry bust a cottage cheese cum load on your face. Your brow hairs will jump ship before the first drop leaves his peen slit. Other symptoms of getting an Uncle Terry facial include the permanent loss of eyesight, dignity and the ability to stop heaving.
Being a major fan of eyebrows and all the beauty they bring, I’m not usually into the Clorox or no brows look, but some have pulled it off beautifully (see: the albino leopard gecko, Voldemort, aliens, that Dragon Tattoo chick (the American one), out-of-drag drag queens and morning cholitas without their brows drawn on yet). But this bitch can’t pull this off. This looks like a still from The Hills Have TONGUES. Bitch looks like some kind of mutant backwoods cave creature that only feeds on meth, dead bats and human organs. Cyst, come and get your daughter.
But on a positive note, at least her brows match her furry, nasty tongue now.
I always thought Taylor Swift was a “been there, done that, wrote a hit song about it” kind of trick, so I figured that when she and Maggie Gyllenhaal’s hair twin Harry Styles didn’t re-negotiate their contract in January, she’d troll the playrooms at award shows for the next barely legal white twink pop star to write songs about for her next album. But Ninemsn’s TheFIX says that Harry is once again squirting glaze on Taylor’s heart-shaped strawberry tart. That is not a euphemism. Taylor’s idea of a sexy Saturday night is making heart-shaped strawberry tarts. If she’s really into it, she’ll let her piece sprinkle his sugar on her pound cake donut.
Some source says that Taylor and Harry started talking again after running into each other at the VMAs. Taylor is house hunting in London (because you can never have too many houses that look a fancy Red Robin) and Harry offered to help her. The source burped this up:
“When Taylor confided in Harry during a phone conversation how she wanted to live somewhere close to him in North London whilst she was in Europe working, Harry quickly was on hand to help.They still have feelings for each other. She’s definitely still in love with him and he’s got a massive soft spot for her. They’ll see how it works at Christmas and make it official in the New Year.”
I really, really hope that Taylor’s search for the perfect house to stalk Harry Styles from is filmed for an episode of House Hunters International, because that would be the best episode ever. “I really like this balcony. I can see myself sipping my morning cup of scorned boy tears here.” “I really hate the color of these walls, but that’s okay, because I’m going to cover them with the blood of my next victim anyway.” “I really like the ceiling height. I can hang my full-size replica of Captain Hook’s pirate ship in here.” “This kitchen doesn’t have a wall mounted Easy Bake Oven?! I told you that was at the top of my list!”
And as for Harry and Taylor getting back together, I’ll believe it when I see another picture of them doing the Dirty Dancing lift on Twitter. Harry’s a slut and Taylor’s not going to give up the coochie again. She might let him stick the tip in her b-hole, but the v is for serious boyfriends only!
Speaking of Taylor’s dudes, in their cover story on how Taylor is the BIGGEST POP STAH IN DA WORLD, New York Magazine asked her how her past boyfriends have reacted to her writing songs about them.
“I heard from the guy that most of Red is about. He was like, ‘I just listened to the album, and that was a really bittersweet experience for me. It was like going through a photo album.’ That was nice. Nicer than, like, the ranting, crazy e-mails I got from this one dude. It’s a lot more mature way of looking at a love that was wonderful until it was terrible, and both people got hurt from it—but one of those people happened to be a songwriter.”
The crazy, ranting bitch was obviously John Mayer. I bet he also e-mailed her a few viruses to go with the viruses he probably gave her twat.
Apparently, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie are too busy being stellar human beings to really clue into the backlash of kids following in their actor parents’ footsteps, because Radar is reporting that Maddox Jolie-Pitt may star in a film adaptation of the comic Battling Boy, even though they shot down rumors a few years ago about the same project.
Someone needs to take the time to run all over hell’s half acre to collect the Jolie-Pitts from the four corners of the Earth, sit them down down and tell them the Smith family has effectively gathered up our patience for parent-led stardom, tied it to an Acme rocket and launched it out of the universe. Arguably, there may have been some success with Jaden but if you throw Willow into the mix, he’s pretty much been the Bill Murray to her Chris Elliot if nepotism was the auction in Groundhog Day. Plus, he ended up with a Kardashian which is negative points, right?
Even though Brad has had reservations in the past about putting the child army in movies, that hasn’t stopped Maddox from getting shot in the head in World War Z or Vivienne’s Little House on the Prairie 2.0 run in Maleficent. If they’re going to let any of their kids go into acting, I’m hoping they write a movie for Shiloh called Montenegro Style so once and for all, I can figure out what the fuck that even means.
The article also said that Brad and Maddox’s influence is reflected in the comic, down to some panels where the character’s expression matches some of Mad’s “signature facial expressions”. He’ 12. Don’t all kids that age have the same facial expressions because they hate every fucking thing everybody says and does? Maybe they’re referring to the silent look of terror Maddox gets in his eyes when he sees his mom thumbing through the newest Orphans R Us catalog.
Since everything Lindsay Lohan involves herself with ends up turning to shit in a poo version of the Midas touch, it was only a matter of time before she gave up trying to have a career altogether. It seems she has turned to the career choice of every woman pushing 30 with no prospects and more issues than you can shake a bottle of Stoli at- the Instagram pin-up girl (via HuffPo).
Her newest pic brings up so many questions. Did Dina take the picture because the two of them are gross like that? How many times did she have to arrange the sheet to hide the cigarette burns on it? How did someone her age end up with tits that look like outdoor holiday inflatables that have collapsed on themselves? What the hell is on the table in the background because I’m way more interested in that than I am in the main subject of the photo?
You know it took LiLo forever to get ready for this incredibly artistic, poignant shot. She spent hours selecting the perfect Wet N Wild makeup out of her Caboodle and her greasy hair needed to be properly tossed. It’s the crown jewel in a collection that probably included shots of her kneeling on the bed holding shower loofahs over her boobs. Bitches gotta improvise when nobody comes calling to take your picture anymore! Lindsay has already updated her résumé to say she’s a self-employed photographer who loves to work, when anybody with a brain in their head knows a dirty mirror, an iPhone and a BatDad approved declaration of “SELFIE!!” (you know she sounds exactly like that) does not a professional make.
(Photo via Instagram)
The great, big, crack-smoking pride of Toronto is at it again. During a press conference, Rob Ford let it be known that he’s not only the mayor of Toronto, his tongue is also the mayor of Eating Pussy Town. This is one of the only times I wish that Rob Ford was admitting to being the same alien creature as Alf and was talking about eating cats, but nope, he was talking about putting his sweaty, crack-slobbery mouth on snatch. When Rob isn’t smoking crack, he’s eating the Golden Corral of twat. Rob responded to the rumor that he wanted to munch on a staffer’s vagine by spitting out this vomit-inducing priceless nugget of hilariousness.
“Oh and the last thing was, Olivia Gondeck, it says that I wanted to eat her pussy. I’ve never said that in my life to her. I would never do that. I’m happily married. I’ve got more than enough to eat at home.”
I’m dying, so when you bury me in the backyard, write on my tombstone: “He Died Listening To Rob Ford Talk About Eating Pussy.”
And I’ll just leave this here:
They should pass this out before every Rob Ford press conference, because you never know what’s going to leap out of his crack-smoking, pussy-eating mouth.
Everybody has woken up next to “what the fuck was I thinking??” before. We’ve rolled over, wiped the please-don’t-let-this-be-jizz crust from our eyes and done a full body shudder at the creature next to us. We’ve gathered our things, shoved our underwear in our pocket, and gotten hell out of there hoping nobody at the office notices we’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday, or that we used the contents of a Splenda packet to brush the taste of strange dick out of our mouths in the corner of the break room.
If you play your slut cards right, you may be able to take coyote ugly to a whole new level and have a threesome with Lady Gaga and Taylor Kinney. In an interview with Howard Stern (via The Daily Mail), Gaga said she’d be open to another woman joining them in the twisted throes of coitus.
“Here’s the thing. I’m not the type of person that’s having sex all the time with lots of random people. I don’t do that. I’m in a monogamous relationship, we’re having a good time, we’ve been together awhile. If it were to come up, it comes up. For me, the connection that I feel is so strong that it’s so much stronger than physical.”
Taylor is almost hot enough for me to throw out a Hunger Games (except in my case it’s the Thirsty Ass Bitch Games) “I volunteer as tribute!“, even with Gaga’s weird ass sitting there wearing a cornucopia filled with vulture feathers, headless Barbie dolls and Taco Bell Fire Sauce packets on her damn head or some shit. Part of me thinks it can’t be worse than getting down to drunk, nasty business with a guy back in the day, asking him if he was getting hot and wanted to take of his sweater, then realizing he was already shirtless but was just that hairy. Humping up on one of her skinned Muppet costumes may be familiar territory after that. I can’t help but wonder if her snatch is lined with red velvet cupcakes in order for Taylor to even put up with her crap or if the “stronger than physical” connection on his part is from the deep, “get money bitch” cockles of his heart.
Here are some pics of Gaga’s at her Sirius XM appearance wearing glasses she stole from Whoopi Goldberg and bunkass Christina Aguilera wig (circa her Lady Marmalade days), wearing a cape made of unicorn farts.