And now thanks to these pictures of panty cream-inducer Mickey Rourke drunk sashaying out of a club in London the other night, you will be having the pastrami hash with a side of burnt canned tomatoes for brunch. You can always count on Mickey to show you that beauty is a half-melted, inside/out Michael Myers mask. On that note, my ass is going away this weekend (and no, I'm not going to weekend jail for my crimes against grammar.... that's next week) and while I'm away, drunk bitch extraordinary J. Harvey will be filling in the fuckery for me today and tomorrow.
I'm still doing Birthday and Hot Sluts and I might post a tiny bit here and there. I shifted the word "might" to the right by italicizing that shit, because it'll be hard trying to blog about dumb bitches while guzzling on a can of Corona (yes, I said "CAN") in the lukewarm and possibly piss-infused jacuzzi of a moderately priced hotel. I'll be back full-time on Monday. For now, I leave you with these images from the beauty gods of Mickey Rourke. Frolic through his tortured, battle line hairline.
I'm talking about the dog and PP. NO!!!! It looks like the cherubs have bent over and fired a fart bubble of eternal love that struck Phoebe Price and Mickey Rourke, because here they are sharing a romantic and completely private lunch in Los Angeles yesterday. Brace yourself for a tidal wave of love children that look like pieces of charred chicken cutlets with dead slug slips on 'em, because this love is going all the way. America desperately needs its own royal couple, and since Courtney Stodden and Carrot Top aren't getting together anytime soon, Mickey and PP are the next best thing. Their couple name can be Phoeckey or Chickey. It's meant to be. I am certain about this as much as I am certain that Mickey's lips are slowly exploding like a hot dog in a microwave.
Or maybe bong smoke is operating my imagination again and this is just Phoebe Price cutlet bombing Mickey's shot.
Seen here working the shit out of your nana's favorite pair of Ann Taylor sunglasses in Beverly Hills yesterday, the deep fried gizzard in a beanie that is Mickey Rourke talked to Modern Man about his role in that Immortals shit and the gems just kept slipping out between his roasted salchicha lips. Mickey, who has verbally kicked some of his co-stars in the b-hole before, called most actress "cunts" and then told a very touching story about how his grandmother used to read him a fable bout the mythological figure King Cock (that's how I'm taking that quote). Open your eyes wide like you do when you stare at Mickey's bag of prune balls bulge and take in all of these quotes:
You visited a Russian prison to prepare for your role in Iron Man 2. How did you prepare to play an ancient Greek Titan king for Immortals?
I showed up. The director spent three years working on the overall look of the film and that really helped. They paid me a lot of money for a few days of work so I was happy to go. It’s just a shame I didn’t get to work with the hot blond chick, Isabel Lucas. I also loved Frieda Pinto, but she has a boyfriend. She’s a really nice person and I have great respect for her as an actress — and I think most actresses are cunts with a capital K.
So … you had fun on the film?
I am just grateful for any role I have — every day I say, “God, let me not be late for work, so I’m not out of work another 13 years.” When you are out of work that long, your whole life changes; it’s a humiliating, shameful experience. I don’t know if you ever get over it. Hopefully, I can keep my mouth shut because I don’t want to go back to that lonely, dark place. This fucking town is built on envy. They can’t wait to [he raises his middle finger] to your ass.
Is there a story in Greek mythology that you especially like?
Did you ever see Johnny FuckHerFaster? It’s a mythology porno about a king named King Cock. I’m kidding. My grandmother used to read me a lot of that stuff to put me to sleep. I have always had insomnia and I loved all the different stories she read.
You can come across both as very sensitive and easygoing and as tough and a little scary. What’s the truth?
You’ll have to ask my doctor. I can’t answer that.
Well, you definitely have a soft spot for dogs.
Yeah, I miss my dog, Loki, who died after 18 years. The other night, my trainer was eating rack of lamb, and it reminded me how I used to put a piece of lamb in my pocket for her. I have four other dogs, but she was my love.
If only male prison plays paid good money, Mickey would be in a new kind of heaven since he wouldn't have to work with any actresses and he'd get to do all of his kissing scenes with his big ass cellmate wearing a wig made out of a shredded orange jumpsuit. IF ONLY! You know, Mickey is a scabby ass lip that always secretes toxic smegma and working with him is probably about as easy as trying to make out with an alligator snapping turtle, but he's still the piece of lamb to my Loki.
And who does the "K" stand for? Katherine Heigl? Obviously.
Don't bother getting up to pick up the sweatpants and chonies that shot off of your body after your genitals exploded from seeing Mickey Rourke struttin' his sexy through some parking lot in Los Angeles yesterday. They'll just shoot off again as soon you put them back on. When Mickey's pants come off, everybody's pants come off. This is a truth of life. What also seems to be a truth of life is that the huge bulge on his mouth is bigger than the bulge in his panty shorts. HUNG LIPS: Mickey's got 'em. So if you're one of the lucky ones who gets to hump on Mickey, you now know where to direct your fuck part.
Mickey Rourke became a hero yesterday when he kept it real with Vulture by saying his movie"Passion Play" is as busted as the sunburned, garbage disposal-damaged baboon's ass on his head. We all cheered for Mickey! Well, you can take back your cheers today, because Mickey is having shit talkers remorse is laying out an apology. Mickey e-mailed Vulture and said that he has a Loki sad in his heart because of the things he said.
"Hey, guys. When I talked to you, I was at a party. It was loud and crowded, I was in a shitty mood and I was trying to get rid of your reporter. Mitch (the director of the movie) is one of my best friends since we were kids. I loved working with him and would do it again tomorrow. I don't know why I said that stupid shit. I love Mitch, I love Megan. My bad."
Megan Fox totally threatened to leave a daily dose of her words of wisdom on his voicemail if he didn't take it back, right? No. At least Mickey admits that sometimes shit he doesn't mean slips between those giant collagen slivers on his face. It takes an abuelita chankla slap to the mouth and a garden hose whippin' for me to admit that.
This time last year, Mickey Rourke's forever soulmate Loki (R.I.P.) put in a reincarnation request up in heaven's administrative offices hoping that he will come back to earth as a psychiatrist who can give his former owner some much needed mental health help. Loki did this after Mickey said that Megan Fox is the best actress he's ever worked with. Those words numerically translate into 5150, so Loki had a good reason to freak out. But Loki can cancel that request and stay safe up in the cloud bosoms of heaven, because Mickey is taking that shit all back. Sort of. Mickey has come down from the high he got after inhaling the intoxicating words of wisdom that Megan's brain farts out from time to time.
At the after-party for Scream 4 the other night, Vulture asked Mickey about the movie he did with 50 Cent ("A really bad movie") and then Megan Fox's name came up. Mickey finally kept it real.
What about your movie with Megan Fox and Bill Murray?
"Terrible. Another terrible movie. But, you know, in your career and all the movies you make, you’re going to make dozens of terrible ones."
You called Megan Fox, like, one of the best actresses of all time.
"That I worked with [smirk]."
That movie’s getting limited release.
"That’s because it’s not very good."
I know a good movie we can talk about: your rugby movie.
"That’ll be a great movie. We start shooting February."
Okay, okay, so the head on Mickey's neck is still slightly stuck up Megan's culito, but I have a feeling he's slowly starting to pull out (UNCLENCH, MEGAN, UNCLENCH!). Maybe! Loki has hope! And speaking of hope, I HOPE that Mickey puts out his own movie review site called Rotten Mickeys where he rates his own movies, because he's good at that shit. Mickey doesn't even have to say anything. If one of his movies is terrible, he just has to make the dried salmon grouch face he's making in the picture above.
You're probably already pinching at your eyeballs with your longest nails, so you know this is already a product of real life. There's a few bonuses too! Mickey Rourke eating! Mickey Rourke getting oral with a bottle! Mickey Rourke getting oral with a fag! AND Mickey Rourke's face is looking as fresh as La Bruja's after a battery acid peel at SpeeDee Oil. Don't you just want to slather his face with tomato sauce and sprinkle a little Parmesan on his cheeks before nibbling? Since he's wearing Spandex, you've got something silky to sit on too.
Unfortunately, Mickey kept his bulge to himself but that gives you something to look forward to (so keep your eyeball-pinching nails razor sharp)!
For the past couple of weeks, I've been trying to not stuff my mouth hole with shopping carts full of deep fried Wonder Bread and corn syrup sandwiches as usual, because I'm sick of being as bloated as a marshmallow in the microwave. Sucking in is hard work and should be an Olympic sport. And sucking in while trying to lick a nipple is pretty much impossible!
At the advice of my nutritionist/doctor (aka MY MOM), I've been trying to drink more water sans Kool-Aid and eat more things that grow out of the ground. It's gross, it's hurtful and it's messing with my emotions. So because of this, I'm looking at the above picture of Marilyn Manson at Spike TV's Scream Awards and all I see is a deep fried ball of dough that is overstuffed with raspberry pie filling and covered with powdered sugar. The raspberry filling is even seeping out a little. MAKE IT STOP! I should not look at Marilyn Manson's nutsack of a face and see dessert! And when I look at Mickey Rourke all I see is a delicious plate of chicken parm with a heaping splash of bread crumbs on top.
Fuckit. This has gone way too far. Healthy is obviously not for me. I'm going to Key Foods tonight to get a pack of unbaked pie dough and I'm going to proudly eat that shit while waiting in line to pay for it.
A couple of months ago, Mickey Rourke severed all ties with his greasy Crisco swamp mop and debuted a panty cream-inducing new look. Your fuck parts are still recovering, I know. Well, the panty pudding fountain will be flowing again after you get a few good looks at Mickey Rourke's new buzz cut, which he showed off in NYC yesterday afternoon.
The cat eye sunglasses (Dita Von Teese, take that!), the "come hither" pout and the NARS polish (in shade: skeleton sponge paint) on his thumbnail.... Everything Mickey is selling, I'm buying with the help of a low interest rate loan. Now that Mickey's head is cleaned up, he sort of resembles a fuzzy skin dingle on a ginger centaur's taint. Better than ever!
Loki will lift his leg on your dreams tonight if you are thinking to yourself that Mickey Rourke didn't cut his hair, it just finally got sick of clinging to his crater face so it quit that bitch. That is not true. That hair loved him like stank loves caca.
Anyways, Mickey finally cleaned the oil spill on his head by taking a machete to it. Mickey's weekday maid is probably thanking the maker of scissors, because now she won't get raisins on her fingers from spending hours scrubbing the grease out of his pillow cases in a tub full of hot water and Goo Gone.
And I happen to love Mickey's new hair situation. It makes his moobies pop up real nice.