Drunk

Well, we're all Tamara Ecclestone without the zillions of dollars of daddy's money, the $32 million London mansion, the lease agreement on a $125 million Holmby Hills mansion, the wonky nose job, the weave made from the manes of a dozen Arabian ponies, the zero sense of knowing what it's like to actually earn a dollar for yourself and the anus covered with liquid platinum and canary diamonds (mine's only covered with yellow-tinted Wite Out and plastic Barbie earrings). Okay, we're all nothing like Tamara Ecclestone, but I'm sure this was most of us on New Year's Eve. Replace the fancy bellman with the clerk at 7-Eleven and replace that fancy gold dress with a torn tank top and stained swim shorts, and that was me on New Year's Eve! I'm pretty sure my mom was behind me making a "Did I actually give birth to a human whose drunk farts smell like that?!" face.

These pictures of the Nicky Hilton of Britain are from the early hours of 2013 (aka 2 days old), but in between yelling at the wild Hawaiian roosters for making rooster noises and making bitchfaces at the loud children at the pool in my mom's timeshare, I missed them! So I'm bringing them to you way late, because I just can't resist a picture of a drunk-eyed, messy ho who looks like a plastic Mufasa in bad Leona Lewis drag.

Anyway, I'm back from my Hawaiian vacation so I'd like raise a Bikini Blonde to Lahoma, Sweetas and J. Harvey for sprinkling the foolery on Dlisted while I was off getting a sunburn on my armpit (that happened somehow). And now that I'm back full-time expect 100% more eyebrow appreciation and 90% more grammatical errors. (Yes, I read your posts, J. Harvey. You're the 10%!)

If you missed today's episode of Dr. Phil with a high as three shades of hell White Oprah, then just take a smug bullfrog and a mangy alley dog hopped up on uppers, downers and middlers, and watch as the latter stares and giggles at the former until it passes out in a puddle of its own drool. Or just watch the supercut Vulture put together. Pharmacists should put the url of this video on the bottles of painkillers warning bitches on what can happen when you mix your pills with equal parts pills and delusion.

Dr. Phil started off the interview by saying that Lindsay Lohan's pimp and enabler called up his producers to say that she wanted to show the world the real her. White Oprah showed us the real her alright and the real her is a slurring, pilled-up disaster who talks and lies just like her daughter. White Oprah didn't want to talk about anything and I'm guessing she was only there because Dr. Phil put her up in a hotel and she wanted to swallow the mini bar whole.

Dr. Phil asked her about how Michael Lohan used to beat her, but she didn't want to talk about that. Dr. Phil asked her about how Michael Lohan broke into her house, but she didn't want to talk about that. Dr. Phil asked her about how Michael Lohan claims she stole $4,000 out of LiLo's purse, but she didn't want to talk about that. White Oprah just awkwardly giggled, pretend cried, commented on Dr. Phil's shoes and kept asking if the cameras were rolling. Yes, the cameras are rolling, bitch, and so are you. You're rolling on ecstasy, booze and whatever pills you stole from Nana Lohan's medicine cabinet.

Meanwhile, Dr. Phil sat there like a condescending fart bubble and acted like he was concerned and cared, but he was totally squealing out rainbows on the inside, because he knew this mess would be ratings gold.

White Oprah asking Dr Phil "Can we pound to that?" and him turning her down sums up this whole smug vs. crazy train wreck. When you ask Dr. Phil if he wants to pound (any kind of pounding) and he turns you down, that confirms that there is a rock bottom under rock bottom and you've reached it.

78-year-old Rip Torn posted $100,000 bail today after spending 3 nights eating cold cheese sandwiches in a Connecticut jail for breaking into a bank with a loaded gun. Rip did not enter a plea to the charges against him today, but his lawyer told the court that he wasn't trying to rob the bank or hurt anyone. Rip was boozed like a Bad Girl and completely confused. The police report states that Rip made Jack Daniels proud by blowing a .203 on his Breathalyzer.

The police also said that Rip kept screaming about how they were taking him away from his house. This made me laugh at the old crazy, but then I saw a picture of the bank:

That bank looks like a fucking house! Banks aren't supposed to look like giant dollhouses! It looks it has comfy beds and delicious apple pies waiting inside. I would think that was my house too if I was a 78-year-old drunk with hair like Pennywise the Clown . Arrest that bank house, not Rip! Rip was set up!

Anyways, Rip's lawyer ended today's hearing by saying that he's going to a rehab facility immediately to try to curb his thirst for the sweet nectar. Rip knows that his family is sick of him being that kind of dad who ruins Christmas by falling on the tree and barfing on all the presents.

Adrian Pasdar, who has been killed off a million times on Heroes, was arrested early this morning in Los Angeles after he was caught driving while the sweet nectar ran through his veins.

TMZ reports that cops pulled over Adrian on the 405 freeway after they spotted him swerving between lanes. Adrian was apparently going 90mph at the time. When the cops shuffled up to Adrian's car, they said he smelled like he had just made out with The Hoff.

Adrian, who is married to Natalie of the Dixie Chicks, said no a Breathalyzer test, so the judge set his bail at $15,000.

To be fair, I'd drink too if I worked with Hayden Panatroll for four years straight, but this is why liquor stores were invented. Pick up some take-out-booze and get DRUNK in the comfort of your own La-Z-Boy.

And all of you better take off your "Vote for Petrelli" button pin (I know what you're wearing one) and stick it in a drawer for the day.

Earlier, I posted a blind item about a celebrity who loves to spike their Thanksgiving dishes with shit that makes you see hundreds of twinkly stars around you. Well, this right here should be one of their main attractions. And it's legal!

O'Casey's Tavern in NYC is bringing all the drunks to their bar by serving 100 proof turkey on Thanksgiving. The bar's owner Paul Hurley says it has taken him three days and several bottles of fruit flavored vodka to get the turkey ready for its final cooking. Isn't that nice of Paul to get that bird boozed up before throwing it in the oven?

Paul said a serving of his vodka turkey won't get you drunk, but it might leave you humming.

Since Thanksgiving is tomorrow, I don't have time to whip this drunk bird up. So I guess I'll just do the next best thing by serving a few dozen bottles of vodka and a pack of Oscar Mayer sliced turkey.

An ambulance was called to The Hoff's Encino home yesterday afternoon, because his daughter suspected he had the drunks in a seriously dangerous way. TMZ reports that The Hoff's 17-year-old daughter Hailey called her mother Pamela telling her that he was boozed up like you at 2-for-1 happy hour (times a million). One of Pamela's friends immediately called 911 and the paramedics showed up to take The Hoff's liquored up ass off to the hospital to dry out.

The Hoff was supposed to be released back into the wild last night. His reps wouldn't comment.

According to Radar, this is the fifth time in just a few years that The Hoff had to go to the hospital for alcohol poisoning. The Hoff's reps have denied this over and over again.

How many "hamburger" moments is The Hoff going to have before he says no to the bottle? The Hoff needs to clean it up a bit, because the entire country of Germany is counting on him! If anything ever happened to The Hoff, Germany would put up a "CLOSED" sign and fall off the map. And can you imagine how much fuckery we'd miss out on if Germany shut down? The Hoff needs to do it for Germany!

The City of Stockton, CA needs to bottle their own water and sell it at bars across the world (preferably one near me), because it's obviously some potent shit! It's got hos seeing things with their own eyes! You see, a neighborhood in Stockton believes that the image of Michael Jackson is on that tree stump. They need more people.

The dude who owns the tree said Michael's image suddenly appeared on the tree stump the day he passed away. That weekend, crowds began to gather around the stump. One neighbor said, "Michael Jackson was an icon to us. To Stockton, Michael Jackson meant more to us than Jesus, to some people. I think they're both about even."

Michael visited Stockton 20 years ago after a school shooting.

Raise your hand if see Michael on that tree stump. If you're raising your hand, then I'm guessing a bong is in the other. Or your fifth cocktail of the day. I squinted my eyes and even look at this upside down. I still don't see Michael Jackson! I kind of see an evil bunny rabbit with abnormally long whiskers and no ears, but I don't see MJ.

Source VIA The Awl

Every morning I wake up hoping that there is some kind of news about Janet Wood! My wish was granted today, but unfortunately it's not good news. TMZ says that Joyce DeWitt had too many of those fizzy delicious drinks with umbrellas in them before getting behind the wheel of a car in El Segundo, CA on July 4th.

Joyce basically held up giant flag with the words "I IZ DRUNKS" written on it when she drove right through a police barricade! Not the brightest thing to do if you're driving under the influence of the sweet nectar. Bitch pulled a Chrissy Snow!

The po po smelled her drunk bref, gave her a few sobriety tests, arrested her ass for DUI and set her bail for $5,000. Come and knock on her cell door (but only between the hours of 1pm and 5pm Monday through Friday).... Sorry, it was right there and I had to take it.

UPDATE: I've added Joyce's beautiful mess of a mug shot. I think Janet was trying to recreate Phil Spector's legendary mug shot. The eyes have it!

Sometimes when you're out boozing, one cocktail leads to another, which leads to a dozen more, which leads to you needing to go to the emergency room. You can't say you've really partied until you've walked out of an ER with dried up vomit all over your clothes and one less vital organ in your body. This is what happened to John Mayer's friend, Rob from MTV's Rob & Big, this past Saturday in L.A. That's what you get when you mix douchewater and Henny.

John had to drag Rob out of club MyHouse and shuttle his ass to the emergency room, because dude got the drunks in a serious way. A few hours later, John announced on his Twatter that Rob was going to live: "In triage at Cedars with @robdyrdek. When the contents of his stomach hit that silicon bag and we all saw it, we just broke into appluse."

Appluse is douchetardian for "applause." In case you were wondering.

John is really a true friend for taking his drunk as fuck friend to the emergency room and then clapping when Rob's Alize and ribs-scented barf hit the bag. That's what any good friend would do, but not every good drunk would agree to go. The last time a friend wanted to make to the hospital, I responded with, "Fuck that! I don't have insurance, bitch! Take me to McDonald's instead." Eating a Filet-O-Fish while suffering from the drunk dry heaves is the quickest way to induce vomiting. Tried and tested. Trust this!

First of all, that is Paula Abdul with her mother. Her mother is absolutely stunningly gorgeous, right? The Grey Gardens teefs, the eyebrows that are reaching for Jesus and the face that only Dixie Carter's plastic surgeon could love...... Totally beautiful! I see where Paula gets her crazy. Speaking of...

A few days ago, an interview Paula gave to Ladies Home Journal started making the rounds, because she told them that she was addicted to painkillers for a few years and even had to go into rehab for it. They quoted Paula and now she's saying they made everything up! Paula issued this statement to E!:

"I want to make it perfectly clear to everyone that I have never been addicted to or abused drugs in my life. I have never been drunk. I have never entered a rehab or detox treatment center.

I spent time hiking, bicycling, doing yoga and enjoying the spa. As anyone who has visited the La Costa Resort knows, it is a luxury hotel, not a rehab facility."

She was soaring through a cloud of Vicodin dust during that interview. That's why she doesn't remember.

Paula also needs to quit that "I've never been drunk" noise. Why is it so awful being called a pill-popping drunk?! Some of the history's greatest people were junkies who were a slave to the bottle. Paula shouldn't be ashamed. She should just pop a doll and let them embrace her. Because if she hasn't been drunk or addicted to the good shit, then she's basically saying that she's 100% naturally IN-FUCKING-SANE. Oh, wait. Maybe she is telling the truth after all. Carry on!

Image: Wireimage