Casper Smart must be doing all of his chores on time, because his azuquita mami JLo has moved him up from full-time rebound piece to being on her payroll. Casper makes a back-up dancer's salary and JLo won't even fart into the doorway of the places he can afford to take her, so she's allegedly giving him a $10,000 a week salary to keep everybody happy. Well, I've always said that good dick will make you sign a blank check and hand over your ATM code. But who knew that a humanized Howard the Duck could leave a ho dickmatized. Give it, get it, spend it, Casper.
Star Magazine (via Hollywood Life) heard from some source that JLo is an old-fashioned kind of bitch who thinks that the man should pay and it embarrasses her on the inside every time she has to bring her credit card out during dates with Casper. JLo is now putting a little money in his piggy bank, so everyone around them will think that he's paying even though everyone knows that she's really paying. The source says, “She hated having to whip out her credit card every time they go to dinner. Jen figured it’s easier to give Casper a weekly stipend, and she thought $10K was a nice round number. Jen doesn’t want to go over the top, showering Casper with too much, but she also wants him to up his game. Jen is hoping Casper won’t think twice about buying presents for her kids or whisking her off for a surprise weekend getaway.”
Is Star sure the source didn't leave a zero out in that $10,000 number? Because JLo's idea of a quick weekend getaway is getting her asshole platinum-leafed in an exclusive spa housed in an old diamond mine off the coast of Africa. And $10,000 won't even platinum leaf one of her ass lips. But honestly, I bet JLo's not even the one signing Casper's check. JLo is ridiculous, but she's not going to open up her checkbook when her main pimp Fiat will do it for her. Fiat's only requirement is that whenever Casper and JLo are getting down in a hotel room, he's contractually obligated to scream out "I'm going to ride you like a 1.4 liter Fiat 500, available at your local Fiat dealer!" loud enough for at least 4 people to hear.
In related news, The National Enquirer says that JLo's kids, the Dragon Tales Twins, are calling her kept piece "Daddy Casper." You know, there's no point in freaking about this, because I don't think it's a nickname. I'm pretty sure Daddy Casper is his actual government name.
Olivier Martinez almost always looks like he's internally wrestling with whether or not he should break some really bad news to you like the insurgents kidnapped your entire family or he just smoked your entire stash, so I don't think I could wake up to that face every morning, but Halle Berry can. The company who sold an engagement ring to Olivier Martinez tells People that Halle is about to become somebody's wife for the third time in her 45 years on this planet. This will be Olivier's first marriage.
A rep for jooree designer Gurhan opened up their fat talk hole to say that Olivier gave Halle a diamond and emerald engagement ring after being together for more than a year.
END WELL: This isn't going to. Halle's divorce from David Justice left her in such a serious state of the sads that she almost gassed herself to death in her own garage (what's even more sad is that she was going to take her dogs with her). Halle's second husband Eric Benet was allegedly a chronic peen passer and his friends say that she was so crazy that they gave her the nickname of Scary Berry. And I can still stank smell the shit that was thrown around during Halle's custody battle with Gabriel Aubry. So yeah, if you think the hot piece from Unfaithful looks bad now, wait until you see what he looks like when this relationship sucks all of the hotness out of him.
But there is something Olivier can do to stop this. Every time Halle's natural craziness starts to poke out during a fight, Olivier should make the face he's making in the picture above. Halle will have no choice but to put the crazy on pause to ask, "What? What? Do you smell carbon monoxide? Did I fart without my butt knowing it? Did the rebels break in through an upstairs window to kidnap us all? Did dumb ass Timmy fall down the well again? Tell me! Tell me please!"
Sinead O'Connor will have to change one of the lyrics in Nothing Compares 2 U to "I went to the doctor and guess what he told me, guess what he told me, he said, gurl your asshole is about to explode" (been there, heard that), because after a long search she has finally found her
hole mate soulmate who will regularly battle "the difficult brown" with her until divorce does them part.
Back in August, a horny as all hell Sinead posted a personal ad on her own website where she wrote that she was looking for a 40-something, anal-loving, half-blind, employed, hairy rugby player who doesn't have the name "Brian or Nigel" on his drivers license. The search has officially been called off, because Sinead announced on her blog that she's making her boyfriend Barry Herridge her fourth husband tomorrow. As Sinead's brown sugar walls quiver in anticipation of the wedding night, she typed this announcement out on her blog:
With enormous joy myself and my beloved boyfriend Barry Herridge will be getting married tomorrow, December 8th 2011 at 'an un-disclosed location' in my absolute dream wedding ceremony. We will post a photo or two here on the site as soon as possible afterward.
Very happy girl. : )
What a romantic love story. It was just a few months ago that Sinead was begging for dick online and now she's getting married to the villain from Megamind. There really is hope for all of us. Who cares if Sinead's last marriage barely died a quick death back in April! Who cares if her latest marriage is eventually going to split in two like a picture of the Pope in her own hands! Who cares if her new husband's got 10 pounds of brain in a 5 pound skull! Who cares if when Sinead and Barry bow their heads to thank God for the genitals they're about to eat she has to use a crane to pull his head back up! The only thing that matters is that Sinead is FINALLY getting some regular peen.
On Sunday afternoon in the Nappy Valley (my fingers really wanted to type "Nappy" instead of "Napa" so please let me keep it), Steven Spielberg, George Lucas and Billy Crystal all watched as half-shaven silver bear Robin Williams made his graphic designer girlfriend of 2 years his third wife. All shovels stand up and salute Susan Schneider for proving that the perseverance of a late-in-life gold digger always pays off.
Page Six says that right before Robin Williams underwent heart surgery two years ago, he started giving Susan's body carpet burns by rubbing his bear rug body against hers. Susan stayed with him and nursed him back to health.
Robin's first marriage died a slow death when he down low dicked a cocktail waitress. Robin's second marriage ended up in a shallow grave after he allegedly dow low dicked another trick. So I'm sure history is just history and Robin will not cum hairy sperm balls on another woman's chest. To be sure, Susan should only let Robin hang out with women who are allergic to cats since he's so damn hairy that I'm sure he sheds dander.
Here's Robin and his new wife Susan entertaining Paris with a kiss and ass show while on their honeymoon yesterday. Being around spastic Robin all of the time is probably as frustrating and annoying as trying to scissor a lesbian in a Smart Car, so I'm sure this time next year we'll see pictures of Susan making out with a Valium bottle and lifting her skirt to get a Xanax injection in the butt.
After 28 years together and hundreds of nights of Gene Simmons coming home with his tongue covered in the crotch sludge of one of his side pieces, he and Shannon Tweed have gotten themselves married. In a ceremony at the Beverly Hills Hotel that was probably more awkward than their interview on Joy Behar, Gene promised to love and to cherish Shannon in sickness and in health until death do them part or until she finally snaps by pulling an Elin Nordegren when her man whore husband gives her crabs again.
The most tragic thing in the world besides a groupie slut willing to wrap her ass tunnel around Gene's tongue is a 54-year-old Shannon Tweed getting crabs the "non fun" way. People has all the details you care about (you don't care about these details) Gene and Shannon's late-in-life wedding:
Tweed, 54, walked down the aisle in an ivory Priscilla of Boston gown – one of three dresses she chose for the big occasion – and carried a bouquet of ivory garden roses.
The couple exchanged vows they wrote themselves in front of 400 guests including Hugh Hefner, Bill Maher and his fellow KISS members (Paul Stanley was in the wedding party). The wedding will appear in the new season of Gene Simmons Family Jewels on Oct. 18.
Also in attendance were the couple's two children Nick, 22, and Sophie, 19, who was the maid of honor.
From watching a few episodes of Family Jewels (which I ONLY watch because Nick Simmons does things to me) I've learned that Shannon and Gene's relationship is not as sturdy solid as the King Tut headdress of gorilla fur around Gene's face. But maybe Gene's just playing the role of a "geezer skank asshole who only cares about where his next piece of coochie is coming from" for maximum dramatic effect. Whatever the case may be, I hope this marriage lasts for eternity. And by "eternity" I mean until their reality show needs a ratings pick-me up in the form of a very special divorce episode.
As her friends Gayelle King, Mrs. Rojo Caliente, Fran Drescher and Natasha Lyonne winked on, Rosie O'Donnell debuted her new hot girlfriend Michelle Rounds to the public at Rosie's Theater Kids Galas in NYC last night. Ironically enough, they're like the lesbian version of Donald Trump and his gorgeous stunning trophy wife Melania Trump. But it truly is a beautiful moment in the history of equality when premium gold diggers can hand a shovel and ink-erasing liquid (for prenups) to a lesbian and welcome her into their tribe.
A source type tell People that Rosie met the Holly Hunter look-alike with perfectly crafted ladle brows at a Starbucks a few months ago and they've been bumping tart pies ever since. The source went on to say that they're very, very happy. Rosie kept her top lips closed about the new lady love that's making her patootie poot. But she said on stage at her event that she just bought a red bra "with the underpants that match and everything" so she must be down to munch.
Gold digging jokes aside, Michelle Rounds really is one lucky bitch. Yes, sometimes living with Rosie is probably as pleasant as licking up Donald Trump's undertit cheese with the lights on, but she's rich as all hell, is a premiere haiku poet and looks like she can eat a coochie like it's made of coconut frosting. Seriously, I bet if you put a tiny teased merkin over your chocha and called it Donald Trump, Rosie would eat the rage (and more) out of it.
After performing in Dance of the Spilled Tit in Miami, Lindsay Lohan flew back to Los Angeles to turn herself in to Lynwood Jail. You didn't think they were going to make LiLo sit in a jail cell like regular people, did you? Nope. As expected, the Sheriff strapped an electronic monitoring bracelet to her ankle and ordered her to sit her ass in her Venice, CA home for the next 35 days or so. The Sheriff said that she must stay inside of her house at all times and will be arrested if she so much as sneezes out of the window. Something tells me that the delivery orders of every liquor store in a 10-mile radius are about to double. The same goes for dealers who make house calls.
LiLo was sentenced to 120 days in jail for pleading "no contest" to snatching that necklace. But due to overcrowding and other bullshit, the Sheriff declared her eligible for house arrest. LiLo's 120 day sentence will be whittled down to a few weeks if she shows good behavior. The Sheriff also said that the bracelet doesn't detect booze or drugs.
GOOD BEHAVIOR!? That is a bigger joke than Michael Lohan thinking he looks sexy in mesh shirts. The only way you can fuck up house arrest is if you leave your fucking house! I'm not on house arrest and I only leave my house to take my dog to shit on the sidewalk. Don't think that I'm not in the process of training him to sit still in a basket while I lower it down to the sidewalk from my window so that I don't have to put on sweats to take him out!
"House arrest sounds like a dream!" - hermit crabs
Seriously, being Jamie Lee Curtis in a real-life version of House Arrest the movie sounds like a vacation. Nowadays, you can get dick, kittens, whiskey, weed and nachos delivered to your front door at all hours. But this is Lindsay Lohan we're talking about. Bitch suffers from a natural twitch called fucking up. Synchronize your iPhone clocks, because it won't be long before her anklet starts screaming when she leans a little too far out of the window while accidentally slipping a nip for the paps.
And as you're talking mess, Matthew Perry will be side-eyeing you from his rehab suite.
Matthew is making it so that the patients and technicians at the rehab clinic he's about to check into can't sell a story off to the tabloids for a check made out to cash. Matthew is beating them to the virgin punch. (Yes, I know the "punch" in "beat you to the punch" isn't that kind of punch, but doesn't it sound more delicious if you think of it that way?)
Matthew is letting the media know that he's going away for a while to work on his sobriety for the third time. Matthew doesn't say if he belly flopped off the wagon or if the wagon knocked him off, he's just saying that he's checking out for a minute so don't look for him.
"I'm making plans to go away for a month to focus on my sobriety and to continue my life in recovery. Please enjoy making fun of me on the World Wide Web.”
It's no fun to mock a ho when they invite you to do so. Way to deflate a cunt, Matthew.
via E! Online
29 years after Marie Osmond and Stephen Craig summoned a mob of Mormon side-eyes by getting divorced, they have decided to give that shit another go. Marie and Stephen starred in an reboot of their first wedding by getting married for the second time at the Las Vegas Mormon Temple (please tell me it has video poker in the lobby) this morning. Since Marie's face today looks nothing like it did 40 years ago thanks to porcelain facials, she wanted Stephen to recognize her so she wore the same hot dress she wore to their original wedding in 1982.
Marie and Stephen chose to do Marriage: The Sequel today, because it's the born day of her late mother and late son Michael. Marie released this statement after getting married FOR REAL this time.
"I am so happy and look forward to sharing my life with Stephen, who is an amazing man as well as a great father to my children."
I will only approve of this Mormon union if the maid of honor at the wedding was Baby Mary Hart:
Porcelain fumes are a helluva drug.
Richie Sambora was riding on the back of the wagon when he sort got a little too much hooch in his system, lost his balance and fell the hell off. Richie got up, brushed the dust off of his rubber v-neck t-shirt and stumbled over to the nearest rehab center to check in. Radar reports that the peen who cut Heather Locklear and Denise Richards' friendship in half is on his way to be treated for the serious drunks and exhaustion. You know, because being in a state of DRUNK during every minute of the day is tiring!
A source explained Richie's latest rehab trip like this: ”Richie recently has been drinking too much, and wants to get his life together. Richie has had a busy year. I think this was a culmination of all the things that overloaded his life and finally he realized he needed to take care of himself.”
So far Bon Jovi's tour dates for this month and next have yet to be rescheduled or axed completely.
In rehab, they tell you to be honest and let your mind's thoughts spill all over the place like a blanket of truth, right? So WHY COME (yes, WHY COME) not one bitch in rehab has been straight up with Richie and let him know that the feathery nest of Mrs. Brady's old hairstyles on his head need to climb up the 12 steps to the roadkill cemetery?! Or just sign me in on family day and I'll tell him!