John Mayer

Both People and UsWeekly are saying that Jennifer Aniston and John Mayer have reunited (and it feels so MEH). The two first started rubbing nipples in April of 2008. They broke up a couple of times, the most recent being in January of this year. Now it seems that John is back to nuzzling on Jen's chin.

According to some sources, the two were spotted getting "cozy" at the Bower Hotel in NYC last month. One source said, "Jen was there on the arm of John and they were all very lovey. She was in casual clothing as was he, and she seemed very comfortable around his crowd of friends." Some source close to John seems to think they are just taking it slow, "They are very close. They remain great friends. He thinks she's amazing, nice and smart, and he has nothing but respect for her."

Methinks this is just a case of not being able to quick the dick. Been there, done that, have the sores to prove it. I mean, sometimes your brain says "DUMP THE BITCH," while your fuck part says, "DON'T LET GO." So I'm guessing Jen just loves the way Mayer's douche-rod makes her ladybox tingle (don't try to imagine that or you may black out). And John loves how dating Jen makes his Google ranking go up.

Last night, NY Mag's Vulture did a quick interview with John Mayer which ended in him threatening to butt rape the editor. You know, being sodomized by a douchebag would probably be like getting a colonic, so if John Mayer goes through with his threat, he should charge for that shit. Colonics are expensive (so I've heard).

A John Mayer interview is like getting finger banged. Most of the time it's just annoying and awkward. But sometimes it make your nipples curl and your eyeballs tingle. I'm not sure which category this interview falls under. You be the judge:

What do you think about health care? Would you take the public option?
"Have you ever heard me play guitar? I'm really fucking good. You know what I'm bad at? Answering questions about public health care. This is not in my wheelhouse. Do you have any questions about music? I almost got a mad need to lighten up. You need to lighten up, because the questions you asked me were all trouble-making questions. If someone gave me the Nobel Peace Prize, and I didn't deserve it, I would just shut my mouth and enjoy the hell out of it."

Which I'm sure he's doing.
"What's he going to do, send it back? It's like I'm getting a wrongful bulge in my pants and everyone's thinking I've got a nine-inch cock. I'm not going to argue with them, I'm going to let them think I have a nine-inch cock."

How about a style question?
"Yes, this seems to be apropos. Do you get paid for this?"

I do it more for fun.
"You do this for fun? That's like me saying ... never mind."

What do you think about guys with seventies mustaches?
"I don't give a fuck about who wears their face what way. If I could grow a beard, I'd have some nutty things going on on my face."

You can't grow a beard?
"It's a pituitary thing. I know you're not that much of a moron."

These are questions my editor wanted me to ask. I'm trying to build my journalistic career here.
"You're not building a journalistic career. You're making yourself look like a moron and you're not a moron. Who's your editor?"

Jada.
"Jada is making you sound like a moron in front of people."

Why don't you tell me about your new album? You've been in the studio for a while.
"I have a record coming out November 17."

Any particular theme or inspiration behind this one that makes it different from previous albums?
"Look what we're doing right now! We're connecting right now! This is great! Yeah, it's going to be quite melodically bright, but the themes are all about heartbreak."

How is that different? Haven't you written a lot about heartbreak?
"I think most artists do, but this is really breaking into the theme of it as a concept."

Is there hope behind the heartbreak?
"The melody is the hope. The lyrics are the heartbreak, the melody is the hope. If you have the lyrics being the heartbreak and the music as the heartbreak, your editor made you ask stupid fucking questions! You're standing in front of me acting as if these questions are fair, but now we're talking about something real. So there was stuff I wanted to put on the record that just didn't fit the concept. So the next record will have that concept."

What concept?
"More political things, worldly things."

Such as?
"Nothing rhymed with public option."

You don't always have to rhyme, though.
"I'm going to forcefully sodomize your editor."

On that note, here's some pictures of possible butt rapist John Mayer leaving a salon after getting his mop cut.

You know that rumor about how John Mayer and Kristin Calafartmeorwhatever have been licking on each other's vaginas for two years? John Mayer has pissed all over it on his Twitter. Instead of just pulling a Kanye and saying "BITCH BOGUS," John brought the cleverness. You know this gave him a boner. John wrote:

"Rumor control: How do I put this like a gentleman...I have never high fived Kristin Cavalari with my penis. I'm sure she's a wonderful gal but we have never tasted the Skittles Rainbow together. My Milli has never slam danced with her Vanilli.I have never Bensoned her Hedges, nor have I attempted to Bartle her James."

The fugly truth is that I laughed at this several times. I even snorted at the image of John's tiny peenus high-fiving Kristin Calawhocares' z-list vagina. I SNORTED! What does this say about me? I need more meds, obviously.

Last week, Page Six printed this blind item:

Which womanizing crooner has been dating a reality TV starlet for more than two years, putting her up in hotels wherever he travels for shows.

According to Janet Charlton, the two twats hiding under that blind item are none-other-than manskank John Mayer and that Kristin Calamariorwhatever from Laguna Beach and The Hills. Apparently, John and Kristin have been sexing on the down low for two years. They usually bump assholes at the house of a mutual friend in the Hollywood Hills. Ick. Nast. I hope that their friend loves the rancid scent of 4-week-old menstrual fluid, desperation and old teeth on their sheets. And I'm only talking about John Mayer's stench!

Janet says that John and Kristin are ready to become more than fuck buddies and might take their "relationship" public. So, if this is true, then that means while John was dating Jessica Simpson and Jennifer Aniston, he was humping on reality trash on the side? I hope that when she quit John Mayer, Jennifer Aniston got a priest to perform an exorcism to rid her body of the douche demons. And I also hope she soaked in a tub full of liquid Valtrex.

I mean, is there anything John Mayer won't fuck on? If the crusty loogie I coughed up this morning had at least 1 reality show credit to its name, John would be on it!

Early this morning on Twitter, John Mayer challenged Harvey Levin and TMZ to track down his mug shot from when he was arrested for driving with a suspended license in Georgia in 2001. John offered up $25,000 to TMZ's charity of choice if they could deliver it on a platter.

The Smoking Gun also heard John's call for attention and posted the goods a few minutes before TMZ did. Now they are both scratching and shaking at each other over John's $25k reward. Oh, John, just don't bleach your asshole for one whole month and give them both the money.

Even in his mug shot (which looks like the before picture in a Proactiv commercial), John Mayer has to try to finger bang a bitch with his eyes.

The douche duo of the West, John Mayer and Rob Dyrdek, left MyHouse in L.A. last night wearing matching monogrammed velvet smoking jackets and with two pumas (that one was for you, Aniston) on their arms. John said that the ladies weren't their mothers, but their dates. Let's all do the eyeball wave! Roll to the left!

Whatever the case may be, John's lady friend is giving me Lynda Carter fever and has confirmed to us all that dressing like a Dynasty character going to a funeral is always a good idea. When all else fails, ask yourself, "What would Alexis Carrington wear to Krystle's future funeral?"

Before getting into the car, John's date either tripped on her own glamour or was overwhelmed by the piping hot douche fumes in the air, because she went down! Ugh. I hope homecougar is getting PAID.

This year, Jessica Simpson opened a beautifully wrapped gift from Tony Romo only to find a gigantic pink slip inside with the words "YOOZ DUMPD, HAPPEH BIRFDAYS" written on it. A few birthdays back, Jessica got an even worse gift.

Some source (aka Papa Joe using a voice changer) told Page Six, "Several years ago when he was dating Jessica Simpson, he couldn't go to her birthday party because he was on tour. So the night of her birthday she had dinner with Ken Paves and a few friends. Everyone thought John would forget her birthday, but then a gift arrived from him -- it was a DVD of him in concert. Jessica spent the rest of the night watching the DVD on a loop, 'being with him.' It was so sad."

It doesn't surprise me that John Mayer would give himself a wet handjob as a birthday gift to someone else. It also doesn't give me the shocks that Jessica's dumb stupid ass wouldn't realize that a used tampon out of John's ass would make a better gift than that shit! Why does Jessica Simpson have to act like Jessica Simpson?! Bitch needs to eat more fish.

And Jessica probably didn't think it was weird when Papa Joe gave her edible panties, a web cam and a gift certificate to "Papa Joe's House of Bikini Waxing."

Tony Romo sent Jessica Simpson down the gutter of broken hearts right before her birthday and some source tells Radar that it was all because of John Mayer and his homewrecky text messages. Dun! Dun! Dun! Dun!

It's always John and his text messages. I'm telling you, if you ever get a text message from The Mayer don't even look at it! Delete it immediately. If read you it, you will lose your man, your job, your dog will turn on you and your favorite dildo will melt. Destruction!

Jessica learned this the hard way, apparently. The source says that everything between Tony and Jessica was handjobs and rainbows until he looked at her cell phone on Thursday night. “They were hanging out and he picked up her phone and she got defensive about it. Tony found messages from John and went ballistic. Tony dumped her right then. He walked out and that was it," said the source.

Okay, let's be serious for a quick minute. I doubt John text messaged Jessica. Did the texts say shit like: "Snd me pics of ur boobies" or "Wut u wearin"? If so, that wasn't John! That was Papa Joe and his trickery! Damn him!

Sometimes when you're out boozing, one cocktail leads to another, which leads to a dozen more, which leads to you needing to go to the emergency room. You can't say you've really partied until you've walked out of an ER with dried up vomit all over your clothes and one less vital organ in your body. This is what happened to John Mayer's friend, Rob from MTV's Rob & Big, this past Saturday in L.A. That's what you get when you mix douchewater and Henny.

John had to drag Rob out of club MyHouse and shuttle his ass to the emergency room, because dude got the drunks in a serious way. A few hours later, John announced on his Twatter that Rob was going to live: "In triage at Cedars with @robdyrdek. When the contents of his stomach hit that silicon bag and we all saw it, we just broke into appluse."

Appluse is douchetardian for "applause." In case you were wondering.

John is really a true friend for taking his drunk as fuck friend to the emergency room and then clapping when Rob's Alize and ribs-scented barf hit the bag. That's what any good friend would do, but not every good drunk would agree to go. The last time a friend wanted to make to the hospital, I responded with, "Fuck that! I don't have insurance, bitch! Take me to McDonald's instead." Eating a Filet-O-Fish while suffering from the drunk dry heaves is the quickest way to induce vomiting. Tried and tested. Trust this!

It's time to gargle your private areas with a daily dose of the feminine hygiene product that is John Mayer. This morning, John's homemade brew has a heaping dose of delusion which will make your 'gina extra squeaky. Yesterday, John hopped on his Twitter and defended himself to the haters who think he's the biggest douchebag who ever douched. John is trying to convince us that he's not a box of Summer's Eve, but he basically confirmed that he is indeed a platinum card-carrying member of The Big Douche Club with just a few simple posts:

"I love how some dudes hate me for dating their fantasy girl, as if they were going to if I hadn't. Let's hammer this out today. Long before 'douches' and 'famewhores' there were these people called 'showbiz types.' Showbiz types' are people who grew up talking to themselves alone in a room for hours until they found some sort of outlet. Once they found that outlet, everything fell into place, except for the fact that they still never worked out why they still talk so much. So you see, though filled with deep emotional voids that can never be filled, Showbiz Types are an important part of our Nation's tapestry. I'm a Showbiz Type. (cue penny whistle and marching drums) But I am not a douche!! (of 1,090,466, seventeen stand and applaud wildly). That was interesting...I'm off to work. Enjoy the rest of your day."

Wait. Hmmmmm. Maybe John is right. He looks like he smells like backed-up shit, so maybe he's a used enema instead of a douche. Glad we cleared that up. And John might also be right about another thing. Take a peek at all the bitches he has dated. I know that #4 is your fantasy girl, so John was speaking the truf. So recognize your hate and deal with it!

VIA UsWeekly