Posh & Becks

That's what I'm told anyway. I don't know. It sort of looks like it used to have a head. I can picture it running through the fields trying to catch little woodland creatures or some shit. But Posh claims it's fraudulent fur. Maybe she's lie-telling because she doesn't want to get flour bombed by Peta. If Peta ever decides to drop a flour load on her, they should add some eggs, a few slices of salami, a block of cheese and some yeast, so the bitch can make a damn sandwich to eat.

And when you're able to crawl into a purse and do a handstand in the middle of it, that shit is probably too big for you to carry.

Here's Posh arriving at the airport in Milan today. Oh, I get it. Even Posh is feeling the recession. The bitch gets into that mega bag and travels in cargo. So thrifty!

Oh, look. Posh looks fat. Well, this is fat for her stick bug body ass! I can't see her ribs and the lemon seed she had for lunch, so the airbrushing fairies obviously gave her a little chunk.

She's kind of looking like a dead alien at a crime scene in the picture above. She died from being so fiiiiierce (I need to slap my fingers for typing that). Or maybe she just passed out because she's hungry.

It also looks like she had a pep talk with her titties so that they would cooperate and pose together. Usually they look like they are mad at each other.

And Becks still did it better. He's the one I want to see in panties.....and a bra.

Posh can't sing. She can't act. She can't dance. She probably can't cook food. Shit, she probably can't even order food without help. I was going to say she can't even wipe her ass without a slave's assistant, but she doesn't go poo!

Basically, Posh can't do much, but there's one thing she does very well. This is one of the greatest skills a bitch can have. Posh can walk on absolutely anything in the highest of high-heels. Look at this bitch walking around on cobblestone in Rome. It doesn't even faze her ass. If she was in sneakers, her bony nalgas would be sucking the ground. But here she is, gliding like her feet aren't screaming for mercy. Actually, her feet have probably given up. They fell into a coma and aren't waking up. That's how Posh is able to stroll around everywhere in high heels. She has no feeling down there! And she obviously has no feeling in her arms either, because everyone is wearing huge puffy coats and the bitch is dressed like it's springtimes. Okay, she really is a martian.

Now if we can only get a high-heel walk-off between Posh and the Empress of Lucite. Posh does have serious skills, but can she magically glide on sand in a pair of exquisite lucite heels?

P.S. - Posh doesn't know how camera things work either. She's a poser not a taker. So everyone's going to be disappointed when all those pictures come out pitch black.

Ed Westick's manpussy puckers for David Beckham, but he couldn't bring himself to talk to his wet dream maker when he ran into him at some event.

Ed tells Reveal Magazine (via Radar), "I was at this ball in New York that was so grand David Bowie was sitting at the next table and shook hands with George Clooney.Then I went to the toilet and there was David Beckham. I couldn't say anything, I just ran out. A friend tried to persuade me to say, 'Hello,' but I couldn't do it. It was ridiculous. But I had a Beckham t-shirt when I was a kid and he was the one I watched growing up. There have been a couple of times now that I've been in the same room as him, but I just can't go up to him. I can't do it."

Ed ran out of the bathroom, because it's kind of hard to piss with a boner. Note to Ed: break, shake and then piss. Also, Ed probably never goes up to Becks, because jizzing in his pants at first handshake would probably make a bad first impression.

Since we're on the subject of getting pee shy. I seriously hate pissing in a crowded bathroom with a line of dudes waiting their turn. It sounds sort of sexy in a sick fuck way, but it's far from it. It's the damn worst thing and almost nearly impossible. When I'm standing at a urinal with dudes waiting for me to hurry up and piss, nothing comes out. I try everything. I punch at my bladder, squeeze my peen hole, think of waterfalls and push for dear life. The latter can be dangerous, because sometimes when you're pushing for the piss, you accidentally let out an ass queef in front of everyone. And that's when you just have to zip up, flip everyone off and then run the fuck out of there before you further embarrass yourself anymore.

My Christmas Eve was spent in my nasty ass pajamas, eating some sort of chicken leg with my hands and drinking red wine out of a bottle (it's all my mom had) while watching the Top Chef marathon and giving my family members the evil side-eye. The Beckhams obviously do shit differently. Posh wore her normal "sexy secretary going to a funeral" get-up and the Beckham men all wore suits to have Christmas Eve dinner at some fancy ass restaurant in London.

I never understood when families spent their Christmas at a restaurant. Maybe because it forces them to behave and shit? I was never into that. How the hell am I supposed to get drunk and act the fool with my family with all those dumb strangers around judging me?

Posh and her family probably sat at a table together and barely spoke. She nibbled on her lettuce ends while the rest of them stared at her, fighting the urge to climb her damn clavicle bones. Seriously, how is that fun? It wouldn't be Christmas without a good old fashioned drunk family fight that ends with all of you passing out on the couch together while It's A Wonderful Life plays over and over again on the TV. Or in my case, while a Top Chef marathon plays a million times. I think I watched every episode at least five times.

I'm sitting here, trying to figure out what that sign says. If you know, don't tell me. I need to figure this out for myself. It can be an exercise for my brain (it needs it). Because Posh is near the sign, I think it might say: "Rail Thin Bitch Awards Inside. Cha! Cha!" Obviously, she won the top prize: a gold-plated watch from Chinatown. It could say a million other things. At least I know what I'm doing today.

Posh Beckham is currently in NYC, because she thought it was about time the city get a little dose of her glamour. Since Dynasty is not on the air anymore, the world could use a lot more over-the-top glamour from biological females. I mean, who dresses like this on a daily basis? She looks like she snatched one of Alexis Carrington's funeral outfits. She looks hot, though.

We should all try to do dress like this more often. While I'm trying to figure out what that sign says today, you can busy yourself by recreating this outfit using an old dress from Ann Taylor Loft and scraps from your stuffed Spaghetti Cat doll. OH GOD. Don't do that. Use your teddy bear's fur instead. You can wear it when you go grocery shopping at Food 4 Less tomorrow!

Wait.......Where the fuck is Spaghetti Cat? Please don't tell me that's him on Posh's sketti noodle arms. NO!!!! What's the number to 9-1-1?!

Once again Tommy Girl broke a promise to Suri and dragged her out on her day off. Look at her! She's spent. She wanted to spend her Thanksgiving sipping barleytinis, watching "The Bad Girls" marathon, playing Canasta with the maids and planning her Spring wardrobe. She did not want to be out in NYC with Little Gay Crazy and his microwaved celery stalk of a wife. But of course since it was Thanksgiving, Tommy Girl had to make sure to get his "We're a Perfect American Family" photo-op.

Suri wasn't the only one who had to suffer through this fakery. Tommy dragged his "other" children, Isabella and Connor, out yesterday too. They both look like they would rather be playing racquetball against their mother's forehead than pretending to be a happy family with Tommy. And if that wasn't enough, the Becks family came along for the publicity tour.

They all went to the Big Apple Circus and followed it with a carriage ride through Central Park. You know, just two extremely private families doing extremely private things in the most private city in the world.

I feel like it's been a while since Posh brought her medicine ball chichis out to play. They look harder than ever! Her steel ball chichis are two dangerous weapons.

When Posh accidentally bumps into the shower door in her bathroom, the whole things shatters. She walks into a wall and leaves a huge hole in the sheet rock. She hugs one of her boys and he gets the wind knocked out of him. Becks tried to titty fuck her once and he ended up in the ER with a broken boner. Her dress straps broke shortly after these pictures were taken.

Don't ask me how her twig ass walks with those rock hard titties. Her spine must be made out of Tungsten.

"Christmas is coming! Posh ain't getting fat! Please put a burger in her stomach STAT!"

Here's Posh and her son Cruz walking around the Grove in Los Angeles today. It's a good thing Romeo held on to his mommy's hand while she was carrying that yellow balloon, because if he didn't, that shit would carry her skinny ass away.

And that blonde bodyguard is making my peen hole sing. Yes, I'm hard up today.

What in praying mantis alien hell is that on the cover of Vogue India? They should have just put a taper candle with a greasy wig on the cover. The taper candle would've given the same cuntface. Posh's face looks like one of those creepy female masks. Clip Below: