Why Are You Pulling My Dick?

Blood suckers must not have hearts, because RPattz has apparently dumped Kristen Stewart while their sparkly vampire baby love child is baking in her womb at 450 (yes, I believe everything I read on the internets)!! Life & Style says that RPattz has dropped Kristen Stewart off at the section marked "IT'S OVAH" and has no plans of picking her back up. That's because he's too busy sucking the blood out of his co-stars vagina noodle.

A sourcey says that he's moved on from Kristen to his Remember Me co-star Emilie de Ravin. The source watched the two canoodling at the Bowery Hotel in NYC on June 14th. When Elizabeth Reaser, one of the other actors from the movie, came to join them, Emilie told her ass how hard it was kissing RPattz in front of the cameras. Elizabeth responded with, "However you kiss Rob in real life, just do that!"

Well, there you go. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the crazed mob of horny Twitards to trample Emilie to death. Send her funeral bill to Life & Style.

Here's Rob filming in NYC yesterday. Expect one of the weeklies to have one of these pictures on their cover next week with the headline: "Emilie who?! Rob's romantic date at Chuck E. Cheese with his other co-star."

Redbook Magazine (via The Sun) asked Jada Pinkett Smith for tips on how to keep your sex life with your husband interesting. This made me fart. Anyway, Jada's advice to women is to do sexy times everywhere and anywhere. Go ahead and spread your fuck jelly all over your friend's guest towels.

Jada said, "Be sneaky... your girlfriend's house at a party. The bathroom. A bedroom. Think of places outside that are comfortable to have sex. Does he have access to his office? Have a fantasy date. Be his secretary! Pull over on the side of the road... Just switch it up. Anything like that can keep it going. Anything it takes to keep the flame alive."

The flame in Will & Jade's life is very much alive. Its name is Tom Cruise.

To me, this just confirms that these two aren't boning each other. I mean, her advice is to do it in your friend's bedroom? Oooh, how kinky and edgy. Come on, Jada. Give us the real shit. Tell us how to work the strap-on so that your big gay man's prostate squeals! I know how you do it!

Joan Jett apparently handpicked Kristen Stewart to player her in The Runaways biopic. While I can admit that Kristen has Joan's signature butchie mullet down, I just don't see the rest. Why couldn't Joan just play herself. Yeah, she's like 50, but she would do a better job than that dripping faucet. I mean, if Jessica Biel can pretty much get away with playing a biological female on screen, then Joan can pull off playing 16.

But on to more important things. Does anybody know who that hot sexy piece with the ginge toupee is? Oh, how I want to fan his flames with my nalgas.

According to Congressman Steve Buyer of Indiana, smoking lettuce is just like smoking cigarettes. Why do I picture a strung out bunny and a whorey guinea pig sharing a lettuce joint in a back alley?

Good ole' Steve's theory got me thinking about smoking lettuce, so I decided to do some extensive research (aka a ten-second Google search) on the subject. I found this about iceberg lettuce:

When cut, the stems of lettuce plants ooze a milky juice whose appearance, taste, and smell are said to be similar to opium. Once dried, the substance is called lactucarium, or lettuce opium. Used by the ancient Egyptians, the stuff was listed in the Pharmacopeia of the United States of America as late as 1916. It can still be found in herbals and such, which describe it as a sedative and cough suppressant. Lettuce opium can be found in all lettuce species but is most commonly extracted from wild lettuce, Lactuca virosa.

Grab my salad spinner, we're going lettuce huntin'! Do you think you can flavor your lettuce joints with different kinds of dressing?

Don't be surprised if you see me on an episode of Intervention muttering to myself "fix fix gotta get my - lettuce - fix fix" while trolling the produce section of a grocery store.

And here's some pictures of Amy Wino in St. Lucia yesterday, because I'm sure she tries to smoke every single thing she comes in contact with.

When Kelly Rutherford gave birth to daughter Helena Grace on Monday night, her 12-year-old gay husband was not present at the time. I figured he wasn't there, because Kelly didn't want someone screaming "I HATE YOU SO MUCH" while she was in labor. I think you're supposed to keep calm and shit.

Well, Daniel Giersch tells People that he wasn't there to witness the birth of his baby, because nobody called him. Daniel found out on the internet. That has to be awkward. Daniel was probably going online to get his nut on to some hot gay action on SeanCody.com when he read that he was a new father. That's a total boner breaker.

Daniel wasn't happy that some stories claimed he didn't want to be there with Kelly. Daniel issued this statement: "Media reports claiming that I neglected to attend my daughter's birth are total lies and fabrication. I was never informed by Kelly about the birth of our daughter, nor was I invited to attend. In fact, I found out about it through Internet reports like everyone else. Although this sickens me, I am of course overjoyed that our baby was born healthy. I would've wanted nothing more than to hold our newborn daughter for a few moments, and I only seek to coparent both our children responsibly and with love."

Kelly's spokeswhore pulled a response out of her ass and said, "The doctors advised that no one be in the birthing room; Daniel was notified when Helena was born and was immediately invited to come see her."

It's nice to see that these two assholians can put aside their differences for the sake of their newborn babeh. That was served in a waffle cone made of sarcasm.

When Glamberace sang with Queen during the American Idol finale, a storm of sequins filled my living room and I actually enjoyed it (blame the good shit). It wasn't hard for me to embrace it, because I figured it was just a one night stand. They all licked each other's nalgas, everyone came glitter and then they skipped off back to their lives. Or did they?

Brian May is now telling Rolling Stone that Queen and Glamberace might rendezvous again..... I think that's our cue to go out to the desert and stick our heads in the sand so we don't have to witness this epic fuckery.

Brian said, “Amongst all that furor, there wasn’t really a quiet moment to talk. But [drummer Roger Taylor] and I are definitely hoping to have a meaningful conversation with him at some point. It’s not like we, as Queen, would rush into coalescing with another singer just like that. It isn’t that easy. But I’d certainly like to work with Adam. That is one amazing instrument he has there.”

Didn't they learn anything from the whole Paul Rodgers thing?! I'd rather Queen just stick a cardboard cutout of Freddie Mercury on stage than bring Glamberace into the band full-time. There's only one true QUEEN in QUEEN and that is that glorious unicorn known as Freddie Mercury!

Drunk dialing: every bitch does it! We've all had too much of the sweet stuff which causes us to pick up the phone and moan to an ex about how they killed our dreams and stomped on our hearts. After they hang up on us, we call them back and beg for their forgiveness and cry about how we didn't mean all that. When they hang up on us a second time, we call again and tell them we hope their penis gets caught in the conveyor belt at the airport baggage claim. True story, I've used that line before during a drunk dialing session. Blame Jack Daniels. My point is, that we've all done that shit! Even Brad Pitt! Now Magazine (via Showbiz Spy) claims Brad has been booze calling Jennifer Aniston. Yes, go ahead and stick a label marked "LAUGHS" on this shit.

One source (point your finger at Norman) barked, “She was initially taken aback — especially as he sounded drunk and sorry for himself. He told her he misses her and that he’s sorry for any hurt caused. Jen being Jen immediately told him she’d never held a grudge against him and would welcome them being friends again, so long as she doesn’t have to be friends with Angelina. He agreed. Before the call, Brad hardly ever spoke to Jen and the relationship was strained. But this phone conversation broke the ice and opened the lines of communication once more.”

There's only one way to check if this is true. Call Jennifer Aniston. If a slurry-voiced Brad Pitt is her voicemail message, hold song and ringtone, then you know this shit is fact. Because Jenny would never keep it to herself. And you know she calls herself, sticks her phone on her crotch area and lets Brad's drunk warble rock her world.

I know you barely slept one wink last night, because you had the worries in a bad way after hearing that Daisy de la Whora might have overdosed. You can breathe easy (you better turn your head and breath, because you might catch something from this pic) now, because the skanky Muppet didn't overdose! Daisy was just tired. Yes, tired. Tired of what exactly? Tired of being a low-down dirty slutwhoreskanktrickho? Taking your mouth from a dirty dick to a dirty bong to a dirty booze bottle all day isn't tiring. I should know.

Daisy's rep/dealer/pimp cleared up (wish I could say the same about those warts on her coozie) the rumors to E!, "Daisy was taken to the ER early this morning suffering from delirium as a result of exhaustion. here was no overdose. She is fine this evening and resting comfortably."

Can you believe she played the "exhaustion" card? She doesn't have the right. Chyna's mutant peen-clit is more famous than Daisy!

Bitch is delirious because the collagen in her lips seeped into her brains.

Always wondered what Solange sings to her mice friends down in the basement late at night to calm their nerves after Hurricane Sasha Fierce passes through? Well, here you go. While touring in Europe (she's bigger than CHEESE over there!!!!), Basement Baby performed her cover of Björk's "It's Oh So Quiet" which is a cover of Betty Hutton's "Blow a Fuse." I think Björk's response to this is the same one she gave that annoying ass reporter in Bangkok.

Thousands of crazy Björkies are also about to storm the basement, because Solange said this about her performance: "I want to be like the black Björk!" Bitch better hide in the ducts, because they are coming for her!

Here's Beyonce, Mama Tina, Orlando Jones and Basement Baby's son Daniel in Paris yesterday. You can't tell me that's Basement Baby herself. It really is Orlando Jones in of one Sasha Fierce's old wigs from the archives. I smell the faint scent of tepid 7up wafting off these pictures.

People Magazine's annual 100 Most Beautiful issue is out and they got it all wrong! That picture of Bea Arthur should be the entire cover. Actually, Bea should be on every single page, including the back. Okay, maybe not every single page. They could've devoted one page to Salma Hayek's magnificent married chichis, but the rest should've been Bea. They also should have temporarily changed the name of the magazine to BEAPLE.

Instead of doing that, People put Kelly Bundy on the cover which really doesn't bother me, but the rest of the 100 does. The list includes: Halle Berry (BORING), Carrie Underwears (BORINGER), Angelina Jolie (BORINGEST), Melissa Rycroft (BORINGESTER) and JLo (Are you asleep yet?). Seriously, that is like a big bowl of salad without the dressing or croutons. Or even Bac-Os. If they weren't going to devote their lives to Bea this week, they should've at least filled the magazine with the truly most beautiful people in the world.

I mean, no Empress of Lucite, no Chicken Cutlets (and she really needs this right now), no Carrot Top, no Prince Hot Ginge, no Mah Boo and no Harvey Price?! How can you devote an entire magazine to beauty without any them in it? It's criminal and it's full of lies!