Good Luck

At least one ex child star has annoy the shit out of NYC at all times, and since Lindsay Lohan is in L.A. right now, it's up to Amanda Bynes and she got the job done. Amanda Bynes moved out of her Manhattan apartment yesterday, because the building management sent her a GTFO note after getting complaints from her neighbors that she was filling the place up with weed smoke. Instead of investing in a vaporizer, Amanda picked up her bong and moved to a place that appreciates the sweet scent of the good shit.

TMZ says the letter from management said that her lease would be ripped up and stuck in her bong at the end of this month, because it's a non-smoking building. Neighbors kept bitching about the weed smoke coming from her apartment all day and all night. Amanda was also known for toking up in the hallways. Amanda could've tried to fight management's decision, but she decided to move out instead.

Three things:

1. How is Amanda getting money for weed and a last-minute moving truck? Never underestimate the royalties for The Amanda Show and All That.

2. Why didn't Amanda just do what every stoner college student (or me at my mom's house) does when they don't want weed haters to smell their pot smoke? Just blow the smoke into a toilet paper roll stuffed with Downy Dryer sheets. That's stoner 101! They teach that in preschool.

3. If I lived in Amanda's building, I wouldn't complain about the weed smoke, because I'd be too busy sucking the clouds of the good shit wafting out from the crack under her door.

(pic via Instagram)

You know it's real love when your groom looks like a drunk trout making out with bait on a hook (or an old Popeye smoking an imaginary pipe) when he kisses you.

Sad excuse for a gold digger, 26-year-old Crystal Harris, was supposed to marry 324-year-old Hugh Hefner two summers ago, but she dumped him just days before the wedding. For the next year, Crystal spent her days gargling on the douche dick of Dr. Phil's son and when she wasn't doing that, she was talking shit about how Hef grossed her out. But because nothing will make a gold digger realize she's made a huge mistake like an eviction notice on her condo door or the repo man taking her Mercedes, Crystal ran back into Hef's wrinkly arms this past May. And now, the wedding is back on.

A source tells TMZ that in the time Crystal spent apart from Hef, she really grew (read: her bank account shrunk) and she now feels that she's her own person (read: she learned that it sucks paying your own bills) and can stand on her own two feet by herself (read: she learned that standing on your own two feet is overrated and she'd rather just lie on her back). Crystal and Hef are closer than ever and he plans to make her his third wife on New Year's Eve at the Playboy Mansion.

Hef is definitely going to make Crystal squeeze out of a drop of her blood on a prenup contract carved into a slab of stone (Hef is old-fashioned like that), so she'll be lucky to walk away from this marriage with the handful of wooden coins (aka his first paycheck) he keeps in a shadow box. Hopefully, Crystal's money grubbing skills have gotten better. What I mean by that is hopefully Crystal got her pharmacy degree from Education Connection and is selling Hef Viagra at a five hundred percent markup. You gotta get that money somehow.

The mournful wail of a sad Falcor has been filling the valleys of Los Angeles every night, because LeAnn Rimes is crying about possibly losing the only thing that keeps her in the tabloids: her gold digging husband Eddie Cibrian. Eddie is living a life of luxury, but it's hard for him to fully enjoy caviar and champagne when it's been tainted by the insanity that LeAnn spews out every second of the day.

A source, whose name probably rhymes with Candy ManPill, tells Star Magazine (via Radar) that Eddie is regretting the day he legally became LeAnn's kept bitch. LeAnn is on the opposite side of sane and Eddie can't take it anymore. Eddie told LeAnn that he needs to spend some time away from her craziness (read: stick his head in a side piece's crotch until the ringing in his hears from listening to LeAnn's crazed screeches goes away). Meanwhile, LeAnn thinks that if she fills her womb with a squinting foal or colt, Eddie will stay. The source said this:

"It never seems to end. He can't take all of the drama anymore. He told her he needs some time alone to get his head together.

Eddie has to pay child support for [his sons with Brandi Glanville,] Mason and Jake. And let's face it, his career is at a standstill. LeAnn is the breadwinner and he's not about to destroy that gravy train. But he's checked out emotionally. Being with LeAnn is a lot of work. Eddie's staring to question whether it's even worth it.

LeAnn is trying to save her marriage by having a baby. She's taking vitamins and charting her cycle, and she's even putting on a few pounds, hoping it will help her conceive. Her goal is to be pregnant in 2013, no matter what -- even if she has to try IVF. She blames some of her emotional problems on not having a baby of her own."

Let me fix that third sentence for the source: "He told her he needs some time alone to get head from another ho." There, that's better.

Eddie Cibrian is such a sad excuse for a gold digger. That piece of trash needs to suck it up. What kind of wallet fucker stops milking his cash cow just because she's annoying? Do you think Heather Mills liked listening to Beatles songs all day? No, but she drowned those songs out with the ka-ching sound of dollar signs popping in her head. Do you think Vanessa Bryant enjoys inhaling a cloud of side skank every time Kobe Bryant comes home? No, but she's getting through it by imagining the day when the only thing she'll inhale is the sweet scent of money, honey.

Living with a wild, untamed, crazy horse isn't easy (I have seen The Horse Whisperer), but Eddie's weak ass needs to pull his eyes out of the squint position and keep both of his seeing globes on the prize. What an embarrassment that Eddie Cibrian is.

Seven months after his ex-wife married Jeff Probst, the side ho she cheated with, Mark-Paul Gosselaar  got hitched to his fiancee of one year Catriona McGinn at some winery in California. That's nice and everything, but what I really want to know is if Zack Morris' head got bigger or does his new bride have an abnormally skinny head? Or did drinking too many chocolate blueberry martinis (blergh, I know) last night give me a case of fun house hangover eyes?

People says that Zack and Catriona's (Side note: I approve of any name that sounds like that of a lost She-Ra villain) pre-divorce ceremony took place at the Sunstone winery in Santa Ynez, Calif. The reception was held at The Max where Zack Attack performed Friends Forever before Jesse Spano ruined everything by smashing into the cake during a caffeine pill freakout.

Zack and Catriona and are going to honeymoon in Italy and he said this about their trip: "Trust me, we are going to eat our asses off!" I take back what I said about that pre-divorce ceremony shit, because a couple that rims together, stays together forever.

Sofia Vergara's wearing a huge diamond ring on her hitchin' finger and Wonderwall says it was given to her by her on-and-off again businessman (and wannabe politician) boyfriend Nick Loeb. The same Nick Loeb who may or may not have cheated on Sofia in a coke-fueled orgy with a bunch of hookers in a hotel room. (Nick says that rumor is a lie-covered dingle dangling off of fiction's ass.) Sofia and Nick are in Mexico to celebrate her 40th birthday with 90 of her friends and family, and he took that moment to ask her to ruin her life by marrying him. Sofia said yes, but not everyone around her is queefing celebratory hearts. One source said:

"She's the nicest, sweetest, kindest person on the Earth, but she has a thing for bad boys. And she found one with him.

They have a crazy relationship. They break up and make up. They fight and make up hard!"

I bet they're one of those couples who ruin your party by having a fight in the middle of it. One of them locks themselves in the bathroom to cry into your bath mat and the other one sits in the chair by the cake cursing under their breath. You can't piss, because that ho is hogging up the toilet with their tears and you can't eat delicious cake, because that ho is sitting next to it and you don't want to wake the whining beast. That couple is the worst. Oh well, there's two positives in this. Sofia now has something to throw at Nick if she ever walks in and catches him with a mouthful of hooker poon. And it could be worse, she could be marrying Tommy Girl.

The empty space next to Adam Levine isn't even cold yet (although, it never is) and Jennifer Loves Anymanwithapulse is already trying to hop on that shit. I guess you have to strike while the iron is still in rebound mode. JLove is on Ellen (via People) today to promote The Client List and she let the world know that she'd love Adam Levine to warm her cold lonely heart by pulling out and knocking off her vajazzle stones with his jizz stream. The Jennifer Aniston of basic cable made a play for Blake Shelton's girl when she said this:

"I always have my eyes out. I just read two days ago that Adam Levine is single again ... I'm just saying. Look, we would be cute."

I love how she casually says "just read." JLove, stop acting like we don't know you have "celebrity splits" in your Google Alerts and every time one comes up, you immediately stop reading Live Alone and Hate It to catch yourself a husband. Look in the mirror, JLove (skip to 0:34):

By the way, in that clip I'm Hazel, obviously, and every Dlisted commenter is the skinny grey hen with a sitcom waitress accent.

I swear, Adam Levine is a tattooed bag of douche water, but JLove needs to stop. I'm sure pretty sure Adam Levine only gets with Victoria's Secret models and Old Square Britches Hewitt isn't allowed in a Victoria's Secret, because she always breaks down in the dressing room about how even the stuffed animals on her bed don't care when she dresses up in sexy lingerie for them. Oh, JLove, never change. Sparkle on, you crazy, desperate vajazzle diamond, you.

Remember in the tween days of the Internet when Carnie Wilson gave a live gastric bypass surgery show online? That made bitch a vanguard in oversharing on the Internet. I don't have my Carnicería Wilson timeline in front of me, but if my ass remembers correctly, she had her "Oprah and a kiddie wagon full of lard" moment when she bared her skinny nipples in Playboy after losing the chunk. But then Carnie got married and had some kids, which she says brought her back to the fat. Carnie tried to sweat her way back to skinny bitch on Celebrity Fit Club, but that didn't really work out for her. So Carnie tells People that she put her ass back on a surgeon's table in January and got lap-band surgery. Carnie has since lost 30 pounds.

"It was the right decision for me and I'm doing really well so far. It's all about taking good care of myself."

Lord. Carnie's digestive system has been tucked, nipped and cinched more than Mickey Rourke's face and John Travolta's dick tunnel. Carnie has fucked with her stomach so much that it's about to quit her by sliding out of her ass. If that happened, all the food she ate would make a fallingdownawell.wav sound as it free fell through her body before dropping out of her poop hole. That's probably what her ass wants. But you know, I can't judge Carnie for this at all. If I could cinch whatever is left of my brain with a silicone band to stop me from feeding my head with trash (see: Kuntrashians, Snooki, creampie porn, HSN and reruns of Property Brothers), I would. No, I wouldn't.

Nowadays, the only Oscars Lindsay Lohan will be invited to is the duplex apartment of her dealer Oscar Garcia who wants her to come by to test taste a new kind of liquid coke that can easily pass for lemon lime Gatorade. However, LiLo's hoping that around this time in 2017 she'll be a guest at the other Oscars. LiLo's routine "I IZ SOBERZ THIS TIME, GIVE ME A JOB" interview aired this morning and I've already covered most of the shit that slipped out between her pool noodle lips, but she was also asked about Whitney Houston's death (*crickets*) and said that she hopes in fives years she'll be at the Oscars. Obviously, LiLo still has charred ass lips from not being nominated for her whore de force performance in I Know Who Killed Me. Below is a piece of LiLo's interview this morning (the bright shiny gem of delusion is at the 3:18 mark):

What LiLo should've said is that in five years she hopes she has surgically removed her leech of a mother from her ass, has a fresh new wig on her head that doesn't look like a Sally's Beauty Supply special and has animatronic cheeks that can move by themselves. Ho is so obsessed with the Oscars. Who does she think she is? Sean Young? Bitch wishes. Sean Young wouldn't have half-assed the delusion either. She would've come to the interview wearing a Faviana original and carrying a fake Oscar trophy from Party City. There can only be one Sean Young, LiLo, so stop trying.

And why is she blaming her past love relationships on most of her fuck ups? Unless the names of her past lovers are Rock Crackson and Cokie Cokesters, she has nobody to blame but herself....and her pieces of shit parents.....and her plastic surgeon....and that wig.

Natalie Portman and the pirouetting father of her Ivy League graduate baby (yeah, he already graduated) Benjamin Millepied silently announced that their asses are married when they wore their wedding bands to the Oscars on Sunday. Maybe their silent announcement was an homage to The Artist? Or something. Natalie would rather eat raw meat out of a leather wallet (no euphemism, she's veganese) than talk about her personal life, so there's probably not a chance in hell she's going to confirm this. But who needs Natalie to confirm this when her jewelry designer will do it for her. Jooree designer Jamie Wolf tells People Magazine that those rings are of the marriage kind and she made them for Natalie and her huzzzzzbeeeeeend.

Jamie Wolf confirmed today that she designed Natalie Portman and Benjamin Millepied’s “wedding rings,” she shares in a release.

Wolf created two diamond rings for Portman, made to fit on either side of her engagement ring, and a platinum band for Millepied. Both baubles are eco-friendly, made with recycled metals and conflict-free diamonds.

This marriage is going to last about as long as it takes me to do a full plié without farting (that could take a while, actually), so it was kind of smart of Natalie to not officially announce that she's somebody's wife. Because if she didn't announce the marriage, she doesn't have to announce the divorce in a year. Well, silently played, Natalie.

In a court room in L.A. yesterday, a judge watched as two pretty faces slowly contorted into every layer of crazy as Gabriel Aubrey and Halle Berryberrycrazee tried to turn down their own insanity while discussing the custody of their daughter Nahla. A hearing was called last week after Nahla's nanny accused Gabriel of pushing her during an argument. Halle asked the court to temporarily take away Gabriel's visitation rights until the whole "nanny beating" thing cleared up. The judge didn't do that, but after a long ass meditation hearing, they all agreed to do the following:

- Gabriel will go to anger management classes where he'll learn that every time he feels like he wants to rage at a trick, he needs to stop, drop his panties and roll on over to the nearest webcam to give all of us a show.

- Halle will continue her own therapy sessions, or she'll be framed for Gabriel's death and will be forced to spend the rest of her life in an insane asylum with an ugly-fied Penelope Cruz in a jacked up wig.

- Halle and Gabriel will regularly meet with a third party to calmly talk about how they should raise their child. The third party will be given one of those Hunger Games suicide pills just in case their sanity can't take facing a two-headed beast of lunacy.

- 3-year-old Nahla will also go to counseling.

- Gabriel wants the nanny fired, but the judge didn't make any decisions about that.

TMZ's source (who TOTALLY doesn't have the name Halle Berry in their BlackBerry under "client") claims that Gabriel was an uncooperative cunt plug during the entire hearing and getting him to agree to the stuff above was like pulling KFed away from the snack table.

It's nice that the judge is trying to work with them and everything, but does anybody really believe that these two nut bags will calmly discuss anything without trying to gnaw each other's pretty faces off? It's always the pretty ones, right? This is why sometimes it's best to go home with the ugly bitch at the bar. Sure, sucking on a pretty face is more fun, but you'll also run the risk of waking up to them screaming about how they hear a baby forming in your gut and they're going to take you to court for custody. Just slip Halle and Gabriel in a his and hers straitjacket, throw them in padded room and let that sand shovel raise Nahla instead. I mean, Nahla is looking at it like, "Yeah, you'll make a good mom."

Here's Halle, Nahla and Olivier Martinez playing on the beach this past weekend.