Brit Brit Spears and her equally raggedy ass boyfriend Jason Trainwreck rolled through a McDonald's drive-thru yesterday afternoon for a romantic Valentine's Day hangover lunch since there's no Waffle Houses in California.
Just let me believe that they went home, moved the plastic KMart patio table from the backyard to the family room, threw a white sheet over it, decorated it with plastic flowers (from a centerpiece stolen from one of her cousin's weddings) and tealights, and then had themselves a VD meal fit for a Cheetoling! They serenaded themselves with Big Mac farts and Coke burps. This is exactly how I expect Brit Brit to spend her Valentine's Day.
And here we have the Louisiana trailer park blossom known as Brit Brit Spears going to Target in Calabasas, CA with her /boyfriend Jason Trainwreck yesterday afternoon. Before you start farting about how you hope she's buying a handful of chichi tamers (aka bras to you), this is how Brit Brit likes her titties to look. Homegirl will not leave her house until her boobies look like two wet $1 cheeseburgers from McDonald's. Speaking of, I'm sure Ronald McDonald has took off his gloves and fapped to these pictures since Brit Brit looks like a soggy french fry dipped in ketchup and mustard.
Hopefully while at Target, they picked up some Calgon for Jason, because dude looks like he's been living in a ditch in someone's backyard for years and is barely stumbling back into civilization. Jason looks like he has a hard time using utensils and regularly gets spooked out by TV antennas.
And since the theme of this post is modern day Helen of Troys, I also threw in some pictures of The Empress of Lucite graciously greeting her public on the ho stroll in L.A. the other day.
Oh, look.....if you slowly peel your eyeballs off of Christina Hendricks' divine chichis from heaven, you can see that she wears glasses. Yeah, I don't think even her optometrist realizes she wears glasses! You know, every time I see pictures of Christina Hendricks I try not to slobber all over her boobs o' plenty like Tila Tequila at her Twitter log-in page, but I can't help it! The chichis speak to me. They speak to everyone. They will save the world. Even the cuntiest baby wouldn't kick Christina out of his crib.
Here's Christina, her Salma Hayek approved bitties and her husband at the Directors Guild Awards in L.A. on Saturday night.
If you staggered into your cubicle this morning with chunks of crust hanging off your eyelashes, the musty scent of regret (smells like pubic sweat, well drinks, and canned refried beans) on your bref and wearing whatever the dirty laundry basket happened to cough up, then let these pictures of a beautiful magnolia blossom make you feel like you just stepped out of a frosted episode of Dynasty.
To play fair, it's not like Brit Brit is running off to meet the Quween on the Scene or anything. Brit Brit is leaving the gym. Although, you know she would wear this to meet the QUEEN OF ENGLAND, which is why she'll always be one of my fashion icons. People of Walmart, take note.
And do you think Brit Brit even knows who the "dick" on her shirt is? She probably thinks he's a character on Family Guy.
Tater Tot, the 4-year-old boy who was put on in-school suspension after he refused to take a pair of scissors to his luxurious bob, has been allowed back in class as long as he keeps his hair in a double French braid. Tater Tot's mom Elizabeth Taylor (who is the spitting image of this Elizabeth Taylor) has been trying to find a way that her son can go to class without cutting his beautiful mop.
The school's dumb ass policy states that every boy's hair must be kept out of the eyes and can't drop lower than the earlobes. Tater Tot's day isn't complete without flipping his hair while humming the Salon Selectives jingle, so he really didn't want to chop his locks. Elizabeth Taylor worked with the school's principal and came to the agreement that Tater Tot can sit with his fellow classmates if he wears his new 'do.
Why didn't I have Tater Tot's problems when I was his age? I used to put a pair of control-top panty hose (sorry mom) over my head and pretend it was a flowing waterfall of luscious hair. I would've given up my Snoopy Sno-Cone Machine to be able to wear a French braid that made me look like I was about to bust into a pirouette before leaping across the floor like a graceful swan.
Fresh off her role as a child-hating airplane goddess, Ivana Trump sashayed into the Celebrity Big Brother house last night to inject some much needed glamor into that joint. However, Ivana didn't go into the house without the producers agreeing to a few of her conditions. Ivana demanded that a mosquito net be put around her bed, because she claims flies give her the scared shakes and they don't back down when she call them "little fuckers."
This is the part of the post where I joke about how flies only love Ivana's face because it looks like a mound of butt gravy on the sidewalk that has developed a soft crust from being exposed to the winter sun.
But a source tells The Sun that Ivana's phobia of flies has nothing to do with why she requested the mosquito net. Apparently, Ivana wants some privacy in the morning for when she needs to decorate her face with 10 pounds of paint. The source explained, "Ivana has been saying she is petrified of flies so needs the net, but we told her this is Elstree in January not the Caribbean The real reason is she wants some time in the mornings to put her make-up on before she faces the cameras."
Jokes aside, the hard truth is that Ivana is only trying to protect the camera lenses and mortal eyes. If her natural beauty was exposed, the walls would collapse, lenses would shatter into a million pieces and retinas would singe. Ivana only wears make-up to protect the world from her organic gorgeousness. This is my explanation and I'm sticking to it, because I really don't want Ivana yelling at me if we're ever on the same flight.
Not since the Virgin Mary and Baby Jesus has there been such a touching portrait of an ethereal maternal figure with an innocent child. It just makes you want to give birth, or slap a Honey Baked ham.
Here's CoCo (that's Nicole Austin if you work for the government) frolicking around the beach in Miami yesterday with her young niece and Ice-T. Without all the lights, Photoshop, spandex and paint, CoCo looks so demure. Sure her bikini bottoms, which have seen better days on a spring break slut circa 1993, are crawling up her body to escape from her hongray hongray camel toe, but her ass isn't knocking my eyelashes off. Usually CoCo's ass makes my own ass clench up out of embarrassment, but it's not doing that right now. Maybe CoCo has been eating more fiber. Or something.
Marc Jacobs and his husband Lorenzo Martone are here to wish you a Happy Holigay from the fancy island of fanciness known as St. Barts. Could these two get any fancier? My ass uses a Rite-Aid plastic bag to carry my beach necessities and this ho is using a $5,000+ Birkin bag! I'd have to pass a credit check to even touch that bag! And here's Marc casually dragging it around the beach like it's the canvas tote bag you get for free when purchasing an Estee Lauder perfume gift set at Macy's.
I feel like I should lift my pinky when looking at these pictures. They are probably wearing matching canary diamond cock rings. I'm jealous.
Chelsea Clinton and her boyfriend Marc Mezvinsky are officially engaged. Like for real this time. There were rumors that the two already attached ball and chains to their ankles in Martha's Vineyard this past summer, but that was just all a lie. They sent out this e-mail to friends and family:
"We're sorry for the mass email but we wanted to wish everyone a belated Happy Thanksgiving! We also wanted to share that we are engaged! We didn't get married this past summer despite the stories to the contrary, but we are looking toward next summer and hope you all will be there to celebrate with us. Happy Holidays! Chelsea & Marc"
Hooray. Pass out the cigars.... Actually, that probably isn't a smart move.
And in hotter news, while I was looking for a picture of Chelsea and Marc, I came across this stunning work of art that made my fingers stop in their tracks and my skin catch on fire for a quick second (insert your flamer joke here):
This gorgeous plate of fried tomatoes and sauteed eggplant was photographed outside of a Barbara Streisand concert, which was attended by Chelsea. I really hope Chelsea makes this woman her flower memaw. She deserves the position.
Anyway, congrats to Chelsea and Marc. And thanks to them, because if they didn't get engaged I would've never come across this gorgeous specimen.
Christmas is coming twice this year! The first Christmas will be held on December 3rd when MTV debuts the greatest piece of guido art since True Life: I Have A Jersey Shore House called JERSEY SHORE! It's fitting that this is premiering in December, because the baby Jesus would have definitely wanted one of the Three Kings to bring him a copy of this amazingness.
I was already sold on this from the beginning, but that guido's pit stain pretty much confirmed to me that I need to propose marriage to this clip. And to the guido in the black t-shirt, I'm already the lead graveyard shift supervisor of HATING. Fist pumping!