Try The Jello
What started out as a feel good story about a firefighter rescuing an Argentine mastiff from an icy lake ended with the news anchor getting messed up in the lips. Kyle Dyer of Denver 9 News was almost done interviewing the dog's owner and the firefighter when she got closer to Gladiator Maximus (I can't with that name) and the ho bit her ass hard. Paramedics were called and Kyle had to be taken to the hospital where she underwent reconstructive surgery for injuries on her lips. Kyle's co-anchor said that it could take a few weeks for her to fully recover and she won't be back on the air for a while.
The day before, Max fell into a cold ass lake while trying to catch a coyote. The news covered his rescue and Max sort of became a local star for the day. So Denver 9 News brought Max, his owner Michael Robinson and firefighter Tyler Sugaski into the station to talk about it. Max and Kyle seemed like they were bonding on a real level at first. Kyle pet Max and he didn't look like he wanted her lips in his stomach as he gazed into her face. But when Kyle got a little closer, Max lunged at her.
Animal Control was also called to the station and they took Max to doggy jail. Max has been quarantined for 10 days to make sure he doesn't have rabies. A rep for the Denver Environmental Health department told the NYDN that once those 10 days are up, a judge will decide what happens to Max. Max's owner was also hit with three citations for not having his dog on a leash, allowing his dog to bite and not updating his dog's rabies vaccination.
On one hand, Kyle has probably seen too many Disney movies and thinks that dogs just love it when a stranger tries to kiss on their face without an invitation. (Obviously, Kyle should sue Disney for this.) Kyle thought she was going to have a precious "Lady and the Tramp" moment with Max and he gave her a Cujo moment instead. On the other hand, Max's owner needs to be sentenced to three months in Cesar Millan's Academy of Dumb Fuck Owners for obvious reasons.
And I think Max being stressed the hell out has a lot to do with the fact that his owner named him Gladiator Maximus.
Demi Moore is getting it together in rehab right now after she allegedly downed so much of her drug of choice that it messed her up in a Call 911 kind of way. TMZ said last night that Demi was taken to the hospital because of a "substance abuse" issue, but Radar is saying this morning that it was more like a "not eating " issue. They heard from a source that Demi had an epileptic seizure in her house on Monday night and that's why the paramedics (or as my little cousin calls them, "the police doctors") were called. Radar also confirms that Judd Nelson and Ally Sheedy were the ones who called 911 right after Andrew McCarthy climbed up Demi's fire escape and torched through the bars on her window. Radar's source put Demi's meltdown like this:
"She collapsed after having an epileptic seizure. Demi is in getting treated for anorexia, as well as other issues that caused her seizure. She has not taken care of her health at all lately and has lost a ton of weight."
Meanwhile, People has a story this morning about how Demi partied hard with her daughter Rumer at a club in L.A. a couple of weeks ago. Demi went crazy, did shots off of Tater Head's chin, rubbed her 49-year-old body all over some 20-something who used to be on 90210 and shut the place down. So it sounds like only eating vodka and benzo soup with a cocaine crisp every day put her in the hospital. But I'm going to choose to believe the bullshit excuse her publicist gave that Demi is simply suffering from THE TIREDS.
Exhaustion is a real thing that affects four out of five celebrities at least once in their careers and we should really take it seriously. Jerry Lewis needs to put together a telethon and the celebrities who have overcome the sleepies need to speak out. #itgetsawakier
Ever since Ashton Kutcher broke the vows of an open marriage by getting caught dicking side piece after side piece, there have been rumors that Demi Moore was back to numbing the pain with the sweet nectar and she's been looking like she's barely surviving on kosher coke, hair strands and Kabbalahtinis. Well, it looks like she has been and that shit has caught up with her ass, because TMZ says that Demi was (cue the dramatic music) was RUSHED to the hospital last night after she had some kind of substance abuse issue. "Substance abuse issue" is just publicist talk for: Bitch went too far with the coke.
Some police insider tells TMZ that paramedics showed up to Demi's house in L.A. last night after somebody called 911. They looked her over for about 30 minutes and decided it was best to take her to the hospital. Demi was kept in the hospital overnight and she's seen been moved to a "facility" to get more help. Demi's publicist jacked all of us off when they said this:
"Because of the stresses in her life right now, Demi has chosen to seek professional assistance to treat her exhaustion and improve her overall health. She looks forward to getting well and is grateful for the support of her family and friends."
Exhaustion? Are we still using that one? I was unaware that we all time traveled back to 2004. Listen, we're all grown ass adults here, so a bitch can tell us that Demi is exhausted from doing Klonopin curls into her mouth and that she needs to improve her health by drying out. While Demi is drying out, I hope she sits on her bed and has a moment of clarity where she realizes that she's actually Heather Locklearing it over Kelso from That 70s Show. Kelso! All this for Kelso. If you're going to have a meltdown, at least have a meltdown over a non-douchebag.
That soft wailing followed by the sound of rosary beads clinging together that's coming from your second bedroom is an abuelita praying to Guadalupe to keep human star Walter Mercado (constellation name: Shanti Ananda) here on earth. Even if you don't have a wailing abuelita, or a second bedroom, you do now, because the situation is that serious.
The beloved creature who came to the planet on a shooting star after the universe decided we really needed a Puerto Rican Liberace was hospitalized in San Juan with complications from pneumonia after he collapsed. Walter, who is what Carolina Herrera hopes she sees when she looks in the mirror, is currently being transferred to a hospital in Cleveland that specializes in heart disease. That wailing abuelita probably just turned into a full blown bawling abuelita.
A rep for Walter told The Miami Herald that he's getting a little better, but they are moving him to another hospital since his blood pressure keeps going up and down. Walter's niece said that he's in a good mood and wishes everyone blessings in 2012.
Walter's eyes are crystal balls, so I hope he doesn't see the image of the heavens taking him anytime soon. If that happens, Telemundo's headquarters will sink into the core, the stars will fall from the sky and every abuelita will get a black veil permanently attached to her face. Walter must live for the sake of raw silk-covered glamour and that hospital in Ohio must hang a rhinestone chandelier in his room, because how is he going to heal without his daily dose of vitamin sparkle?
The late-in-life lesbianface grandma formerly known as one of the hottest pieces in the 1976 Olympics has been open about the fact that he stretched his face in the name of undignified youth to fit in with the other melted dildo faces in the Kardashian family. But at the Mavericks vs. Lakers game in L.A. last night, Bruce Jenner kept his lips shut about the new trail of stitches along the side of his face and it's got the likes of USA Today asking if he went into the family plastic surgeon's office for another pulled pork special.
I've seen enough episodes of The Swan, Bridalplasty, Dr. 90210, Joan & Melissa and Extreme Makeover to know those stitches aren't from plastic surgery. Yes, I think Bruce Jenner wants his face to slowly morph into that of a freeze dried Billie Jean King, but I don't think those stitches on his face are from a surgery to get him there. Those stitches are from something else. Bruce probably had a biopsy, or a mole removal, or he actually spilled a little Arby's horsey sauce on his cheek and Khloe was a little too rough when she nom nom nom-ed it up.
Or maybe it is a plastic surgery scar after all. Pimp Mama Kris wants to keep all the cash in her pimp cup and after a crash course in face cutting (three episodes of Nip/Tuck), a trip to Toys 'R Us to buy Baby's First Plastic Surgery Kit and a certificate from Oneal Ron Morris' Academy of Bootleg Surgery, Dr. Baby Mason did Bruce Jenner's second facelift. It's about time that Baby Mason gets off his lazy diapered ass to start practicing the family's black magic art of scamming for a dollar.
As Pimp Mama Kris always says, there is no such thing as a free lunch! But there is such thing as a hot lunch with Kim and you'll have to see Kris to negotiate fees for that.
UPDATE: That was fast. Bruce tells TMZ that his doctor determined that a smell red mark on his face was cancerous. They removed it and now he's cancer-free, but has to keep his face shaded when he's out in the sun.
This morning, I took my dog down for his first public piss of the day and I wore a hat like this and glasses like these to do so. (You can judge me all you want, but it's raining like a bitch here and I think that's the heavens' way of throwing me shade and weeping over my jacked up look so you don't have to.) When I got downstairs, a dude who works in my building stopped mopping and said to me, "You look like a Chinese Ron from A Different World!" Just like that. I'm not Chinese, but I figured that any day that starts out with A Different World reference is going to be a good day. I was wrong, because I came upstairs and read about Sinead O'Connor trying to overdose her way to the afterworld again. Is the brown that difficult, Sinead? Damn.
Between trying to get the taste of activated charcoal out of her mouth, Sinead told The Sun (You know, because when you try to get a date with the Grim Reaper, you tell The Sun first!) that she swallowed a bunch of pills last Thursday in L.A. Shortly after Sinead overdosed, she let out a Twitter plea and asked her followers if they knew of a good shrink. Why Sinead didn't ask her on-and-off-again therapist husband for a recommendation is beyond me, but she eventually got the help she needs. Sinead told The Sun:
"I took an overdose. God obviously wants me around — though I can't think why. I just had to make a cry for help."
Can somebody ask Tim Tebow that since he's hogging up the invisible soup can connection to God, can he please take a moment from praying for another homerun (or whatever the hell they do in football) to ask our lord to tell him why he's keeping Sinead here. I'm pretty sure God will say that he's keeping Sinead around, because the difficult brown movement needs a public voice and she needs to hear that.
Apparently, there's such a thing as a mild case of kidney failure and Nick Cannon's got it. I guess Nick's kidney hasn't completely went the way of his music career (aka died a fast death), but it's just lying there, paralyzed and has temporarily forgotten how to form emotions. Sort of like Mimi's twins when they glance at this portrait hanging over her Hello Kitty bathtub.
Nick had a kidney situation while the two were spreading their cheese in Aspen (see the foolery below) and is now laid up in a hospital bed. And in true Mimi fashion, she jumped into the hospital bed and forced some tortured nurse to take a picture for her Twitter followers. That nurse now knows how to take a picture while trying hard to control her eyeballs from instinctively rolling out of their sockets. Mimi posted this long ass message with the precious portrait:
Please pray for Nick as he's fighting to recover from a mild kidney failure.
This is us in the hospital - role reversal; Last year it was me attached to the machines (after having dembabies) and Nick was there with me through it, and now here we are.
We're trying to be as festive as possible under the circumstances but please keep Nick in your thoughts because this is very painful. They tried to kick me out of the hospital but here I am pon de bed with Mr. C.
We're doing OK but we're "straaaaaanded in Aspen". #DramaticDivaPlace (I know, we could be in a lot worse places) but the truth is as long as we're together, we're OK. I'm not trying to make light out of the situation because it's a serious moment that's very tough on all of us so please keep us and our family in your prayers. LYM.
Nick must have the sicks in a serious way, because his facial expression is brought to us by the letters FML. Or maybe Nick's feeling the pain inside something extra, because his kidney has more than mildly failed after Mimi put that assholian hat on his head for this picture. It'll be okay. That bitch Kero Kero Keroppi owes Mimi, so I'm sure he's good for a kidney.
Prayer circles formed in dozens of men's public restrooms around the world when George Michael was hospitalized last month after the terrible cunt that is pneumonia refused to leave his body. It was looking bleak there for a second and some mornings I woke up expecting to find the headline "George Michael is Never Going To Dance Again" or "Last Christmas, Indeed!" on The Daily Mail. But shit is looking up for George Michael's health, because his rep announced this morning that he's been released from a clinic in Austria and is back at home in London.
George was rushed to the hospital in Vienna on November 21st after he got the serious sicks just a few hours before a concert. The doctors diagnosed with him with severe pneumonia and put him on bed rest until they felt he was well enough to fly to England. It took four long weeks.
I'm making the same face I made when one of my ex-boyfriends came home looking as fucked up as a meth-faced hyena and said to me, "Oh, I just had a soda water at the bar!" Four weeks in the hospital for PAMONAS (as my cousin calls it) is suspect, but who cares! Who cares if George was really in there to detox off the bad shit or if it took four weeks for him to cough up the hairball he accidentally swallowed which licking on his hot fur piece. The only thing that matters is that George is back and his friends can throw him a welcome home party at Snappy Snaps.
via E! Online
Poor Joe Jonas had the aches in his stomach so bad on Sunday that he had to check into the emergency room at The Children's Hospital in L.A. Yes, the fucking children's hospital. I did hear once that Joe Jonas has the esophagus of a 5-year-old boy (No Sandusky). TMZ says that Joe was partying hard in Chicago on Friday night, yodeled out musical notes during a concert on Saturday night and when he got back to L.A. on Sunday his insides were gurgling like the soul-devouring minion Disney implanted in there was trying to eat its way out.
Joe's spokeswhore wouldn't say why he had the sicks, but they did say that he was released shortly after he got there and was well enough to eat sushi with his brother later last night. So to recap, Joe Jonas had to go to a children's hospital for stomach problems and he later drowned the pains with a whole lot of raw fish. This story is a spread eagle Hilton who doesn't ask you any questions. Just too too TOO easy.
But seriously, why is this giving me shades of the "Jordan Knight gets a gut full of jizz pumped out of him?" urban legend? Well, Joe Jonas is this generation's Jordan Knight, so I guess this is his destiny. This should also teach him to have a private medical team standing by when his piece convinces him that an arm-sized dildo covered in Mexican cocaine will make his prostate's life! Tommy Girl would never make that mistake.
(Image via Fame Pictures)
When even the powerful healing touch of Detective La Toya can't rebuke the demons out of you, it's time to pack up your exquisite pearl choker and matching cuff, and get your serial killer-faced boyfriend to drive you to rehab. This is exactly what Kim Richards of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills has done. Anybody who watches that mess isn't surprised since Kim has barely been in any scenes lately. And when she is in a scene, she's scrambled in the brains and is about as coherent as a drunk Jerri Blank reading spam e-mails. Entertainment Tonight confirms that 47-year-old Kim is drying out at a clinic somewhere.
Kim went to rehab after the first season aired and it's not known what she's being treated for this time, but she told Adrienne's husband on a past episode that there's a Lexapro, Trazadone and Topamax party in her body.
Well, if rehab doesn't work this time at least she gets a break from packing and unpacking boxes. Seriously, Kim is always packing and unpacking. When Kim isn't weeping out memories while packing a keepsake from her childhood, she's calling the other housewives to tell them that she can't come to their stupid event because she's too busy packing! Bitch should go work for Moishes Movers. I bet Kim isn't in rehab for a pill popping addiction. She's in there for her addiction to PACKING!!!