Shit You Find At The Dollar Store
The Linda Lovelace biopic starring Lindsay Lohan hasn't even started shooting yet (and it probably never will), but there's already posters out for that straight-to-Skinemax disaster. Yeah, LiLo is playing Linda Lovelace. She calls it "acting," but most of us are calling it on the job training for her future career.
Anyways, Tyler Shields shot the pictures for the poster, and you can tell this trick spent hours upon hours researching every little thing about Linda Lovelace. You should unbutton your top two buttons so you can feel my sarcasm gently hit your chest.
I mean, everyone knows Linda Lovelace constantly had her fingers in her mouth just like Lindsay Lohan! Seriously, why does this bitch always have her hands up to her mouth in every picture? Do her phalanges pores secrete liquid Adderall (highly possible)? Does she wear polish made out of coke on her nails (again, highly highly possible)? It's as if she's got tiny penises on her hands instead of fingers. Just bite a finger off already and stop!
This is Heidi Montag's audition tape for "Transfarters 3" (I think that's what the hick at the beginning said) audition, and it's the most hilariously terrifying thing I've seen since watching that toddler work a cig like a pro. Except that fag-smoking toddler has the smarts to turn the gun on the camerdouche (aka Spencer Twatt).
Miss Plastic Anal Bead face Twittered this sad display of patheticness to Michael Bay in hopes that he would cast her as Megan Fox's replacement. The only problem is that the dildo-brained asshole Twittered it to a fake Michael Bay account. But nobody tell her that, because we need her to believe that her callback is being held at the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico. Top Kill does need some villains.
And the saddest thing about this mess is that Heidi's tortured gun doesn't have hands to pick up another gun and shoot itself in the mouth.
Meet Allen E. Brown (if you haven't already), the pimp from Jersey City who was sentenced to 18 years in the chokey for selling vagina out of his home with his mother. Pimp Brown was found guilty of racketeering and extortion. Shockingly enough, bitch was not found guilty of wearing that hot blooded fuckery on his head to court! Bitch doesn't have a pimp cane, he has a pimp whip on the side of his head! Don't make him slap you with his pony tail!
The judge shouldn't have thrown the book at him. The judge should've thrown a pair of scissors at his ass so he can cut that mess off. No, I shouldn't say that. I'm obviously just jealous that my head doesn't look like every hair show reject died on top of it. We should all be happy to see that one of Coolio's old dreads and Chilli's baby hairs found a new home. His scratch 'n sniff brows are so captivated with the exquisiteness going on above them that they are aching to be a part of it. We don't blame them.
Pimp Brown is going to make a stunning and ravishing Miss Cell Block Hair 2010.
I KNOW! I KNOW! You keep trying to drag me away from the animal cages, but I won't stop throwing peanut shells at them. You even rubbed my nose in the "Do Not Feed The Beasts" sign, but I didn't get the clue. You were even kind enough to wipe their wet dung off my face after they threw it at me, but I still can't stop!
I feel like if I have to suffer, you have to suffer too. It's kind of like the time (just go with it) your friend made a green caca from drinking a black raspberry Coke slushie from Burger King, and called you into the bathroom so that you could see it. It's like that. We're all standing around the toilet together. Which leads me to these pictures of Tila Tequila Worm squirming around on the floor (where she belongs) at some Maxim party in Los Angeles last night. It's fitting that bitch looks like a used tampon that fell out of the Kraken's snatch. It was a heavy flow week.
Dressed like my cousin stopping by the WIC office before going to a formal engagement party at the Olive Garden, Mimi and her manchild husband visited a community medical center (aka a free clinic for the wealthy) in Los Angeles yesterday afternoon. Maybe they were there to speak to a mental health professional about why the fuck they look like bitches from True Life: I Can't Stop Dressing Like A 15-year-old.
No, I shouldn't be like that. Mimi knows best. Nothing makes your unicorn toe kick like Spanx brand sweats, heels and the tackiest piece of joo-ree ever made.
Candy Spelling was gracious enough (you can see my eyes rolling from there, can't you?) to let the cameras inside her charming 50,000 square foot mansion called The Manor. Yes, 50 fucking thousand square feet. That's almost big enough to hold Kanye West's ego. Almost.
After watching this clip, I realized that Candy's ridiculous house and my Brooklyn apartment aren't that different. Candy has a gift wrapping room. I have a Walgreens plastic bag filled with old gift wrapping scraps. Candy has a China room. I have a cupboard in my kitchen where I keep my Chinet plates. Candy modeled her grand entrance after Tara from Gone with the Wind. My bath tub is so dirty it looks like it barely survived the burning of Atlanta. Candy has a bowl of matching jelly beans in every room. I have an old bag of jelly beans from three Easters ago that I still pick at when I get depressed. SEE! We all have our own The Manor.
And Candy has a room for absolutely everything, but she didn't say where she houses her SANITY. Hmm. Maybe she keeps that in her $47 million penthouse.
Kanye West launched a new blog yesterday, and one of his inaugural posts featured his gill cleaner Amber Rose recreating Grace Jones' iconic pose. Um. Yeah. Let's just file this under "The Look 4 Less" and keep moving.
This isn't the only thing that concerns me about Kanye's new "Homage to Wite-Out" blog. So far I don't see any evidence that his CAPS-LOCK key made the move. I see a lot of italics, though. Does this mean that italics are the new CAPS? NOOOOOO! This is not a change I can support. Reading things in all-italics makes me think of the terrible book reports I wrote in junior high school. I used to write them in all-italics to get that "old world" look. I even crumpled the papers up and burnt the edges with a BIC lighter. Don't make me relive the shame, Kanye!
When I first read that German filmmaker Marc Vorlander was working on a sequel to the most important cinematic masterpiece of the 20th Century, I was genuinely excited. But my excitement has gone limp after seeing this NSFW trailer for Showgirls: The Return.
This broke ass shit cost $25 million, but it makes a Heidi Montag video look like it has the budget of a James Cameron movie.
Unless your name is Tiger Woods, Josh Duhamel or Matthew Fox, there is no need to watch this mess. It's just 4-minutes of topless strippers thrusting and writhing around.
If I ever meet this trailer in Las Vegas, these are the 5 things I would do to it:
The other 2 are after the jump since they feature shiny nipples. JUMP!
For her 30th birthday last year, Jennifer Love Hewitt wet farted all over Audrey Hepburn's good memory by dressing up as a special needs Holly Golightly and posing for the paps in front of Tiffany's. Audrey hasn't stopped pirouetting in her grave since then.
Well, for her 31st birthday this year, JLove finally left Audrey alone. Instead, JLove slipped on a pair of cankle warmers, threw one of Lady CaCa's parched pubic bows on her head and posed for the paparazzi outside of her house.
You know, I'm going to leave this one alone, because if she wants to dress up like a thirsty anus for her birthday...LET HER! Although, next year she should just go all the way and dress up as an actual thirsty anus. Correct: a bedazzled thirsty anus.
I need to apologize for the first three posts of the day about hos you could care less about. These Louvre-worthy portraits of Bobby Trendy with his furry pet (who is obviously Lady GaGa's style icon) and expired Twinkie friend should've been the first thing that went up on this site today. I will punish myself by licking (don't click on that) this picture 10 times in a row. When I'm done, I'll probably have PKM (please kill me) eyes like Bobby's tortured glitter baby.
No, I shouldn't type that. Bobby's dog isn't trying to shoot his eyeballs out of his head to relieve some of the misery, I think he just can't contain his excitement about seeing his icon Johnny Weir spread the glitter on the ice tonight.
Doggy is also a little concerned, because if Johnny falls, Bobby Trendy's colon will never produce glitter again. Nobody wants that.