Elegance Has A Name

While looking like the Hotmess Monster, Lochie's skanky American cousin, human bronzer stick Aubrey O'Day posed for a paparazzo in a staged photo shoot that included a choreographed "1...2...3...NIP SLIP!" moment and some covered clam bumping with her lady friend. Aubrey is so ethereal that I'm sure even her crabs fart up pixie dust. Yes, the City of Miami Beach had to shut down this stretch of beach and keep hos from going into the ocean since Aubrey tainted it with the layers upon layers of lead-based paint she smears all over her body, but that is a small price to pay for creating natural magic like this.

Germany's #1 tourist attraction and the slutty gift that keeps on slutting, Micaela Schäfer, floated onto the red carpet at Berlin Fashion Week today and continued to show us simple bitches how she can turn everyday household objects into an ensemble dripping with luxury, sophistication and the kind of refined demureness that can only be achieved when you're desperate to show as much of your body as possible without getting arrested. Micaela did it with VHS tape, a sequined appliqué and she did it again today with yarn from her grandmother's sewing box. Only Micaela can make dollops of yarn poo look like they were spun by Rumpelstiltskin out of a grey unicorn's tail. Lady CaCa, put down that ball of yarn, you could NEVER bring it like this.

I have one question about these pictures. How are the bitches around Micaela not on the floor, worshiping at her feet?! What is wrong with them? When a goddess like Micaela shows up to a fashion show with knit anal cones on her shoulders and knit tit beanies, you get on the floor and pay homage!

I know, every portrait of precious German gem Micaela Schäfer should be framed with the finest hand carved Italian gilded frame. Bitches should have to get their bags to checked by security before they're allowed to look at a picture of Micaela Schäfer. Micaela Schäfer's pictures are that luxurious and that special.

Seen above with PedoBear's German second cousin, FuckanythingBear, the pride of Germany Micaela Schäfer once again made eyelashes singe while posing at an event in Berlin for the Euro Championship 2012. I have no idea what the Euro Championship is, but I'm sure it solely exists so that Micaela Schäfer could show up to one of its events dripping in painted sophistication and sequined perfection. Remember those sequin appliqués you sewed onto your acid wash jean jacket in the 80s? Micaela glued one onto her precious pearl box. Yes, when she ripped it off, she probably took several layers of crotch skin with it, but that's how Micaela does it. She is that dedicated to sharing pure elegance with the world.

How has Germany not declared her their official country flower?

I'm mad that there's no VCT (visible camel toe), because I really want to see their sparkly camel toes do the Kid 'n Play dance together.

Some dude with a name like a mid-level law firm (or a name like a Wilson Phillips cover band that only sings Chynna's parts) won American Idol last night, because easily impressed teenage girls who lose their minds over white boys with guitars are the only tricks voting for that shit, but who cares about that when we've got Fantasia and Chaka Khan defying the laws of Spandex and sequins. With the help of an industrial-strength sausage caser, Fantasia and Chaka squeezed into catsuits and showed those amateur whores how suffocating-crotch-glamour is really done. Chaka wins this catsuit fever battle, because she's Chaka and wins almost everything, but Fantasia gave her a run for her Cameflage. Fantasia looked like a giant gay eel trying to swallow Verdine White whole. Fantasia split that catsuit up the side, because she knows she's way too much for it to handle and didn't want it to overexert itself later. That was nice of Fanny.

Wearing that catsuit almost makes me forgive 'Tasia for putting that discount Halloween store Morticia wig on her head. Almost. And here's a few more pictures including some of Fantasia flashing her coma titties on the red carpet. Yes, Cher worked that look better almost 40 years ago, but I can't hate Fantasia for trying.

Not since the Empress of Lucite's sex tape have I felt the soft sensation of angels blowing lucite dust into my eyes.....

Shauna Sand, the most beautiful woman in every universe and beyond, climbed to the upper echelon of demureness in St. Barts a few days ago by making sweet, passionate, natural, Skinemax-like love with her piece in front of the paps. That amateur trick Courtney Stodden better not get any ideas and she better slide under the rock from which she came from while our modern day Aphrodite takes the staged photo-op to the next level. Egotastic has the whole set and you might want to hold onto something steady and grab your smelling salts before you step in. There aren't any exquisite lucite heels, but there is a pair of b-hole hugging jorts. Click your way to romance.

 Dear Deborah Kerr and Burt Lancaster, this is what your scene in From Here to Eternity should've looked like.

(Picture via FameFlynet)

Whoring out your leg on the red carpet is so February. It's also about whoring out your hip bone. Model type Anja Rubik proved this last night at the Met Ball by flashing the hip bone that is so damn sharp she can stab the haters around her while doing the hip shimmy. From afar it looked like Anja was busting out some sweet moves, but she was really cutting tricks left and right. Bitch could poke out her tiny date's eye with that sharpened hip bone.

If you're planning on getting married sometime soon, do me a favor and please wear this work of pure sophistication to the ceremony. If you need a "something borrowed," I can lend you my favorite white lace ass patch.

Looking like a come-to-life Ganguro Bratz doll, the heir to the lucite throne Courtney Stodden and her creepy queefbag of a husband Doug Hutchison showed the People of Walmart how to truly bring refinement and grace to a big-box store when they shopped at Target in West Hollywood yesterday. Several Target shoppers immediately left after seeing Courtney in the aisles, because they figured that there's no way they can afford to shop at the same store as an expensive-looking creature who obviously prefers the finer things in life. You're looking at Courtney's "dress" and seeing a toddler's size large tank top, but I'm looking at it and seeing what every French designer will send down the runway at their next couture show.

I'm actually surprised that Courtney can go out in public without get mobbed by thousands of fans (or the police, or agents from Child Protective Services). But all of that will change once the long-awaited (read: the opposite of that) follow-up to her first single "Don't Put It On Me" debuts at #1 on PedoBear's iTunes playlist. If you ever wanted to know what it sounds like to hear an iguana dry heave into a high-powered fan, click here (that shit won't embed, I should take that as a sign) to listen to Courtney's new song "Reality." Or as she sings it, "Rillality."

Courtney tells Fox411 that her new musical masterpiece "is about clubbing and dancing with your sexy partner. To me, it’s a story about lust. It’s about falling in love with someone. Is it in your head, or is it lust?”

To me, Courtney's song is an auto-tuned cry from humanity for the sun to please crash into the planet, because none of us want to live in a world where a trick has achieved the impossible by making a Heidi Montag song sound like fucking Mozart.

Organic beauty collided with natural glamour at the Rockit Masquerade Ball at XL in NYC last night when the world's first supermess Janice Dickinson touched her collagen-filled labia lips next to fully functional mannequin goddess Amanda Lepore. Janice Dickinson is this generation's Jane Russell and Amanda Lepore is this generation's Marilyn Monroe (sorry, LiLo) and so if you watch Gentlemen Prefer Blondes through a crystal, these pictures are what you'll see. Or is if it you watch Gentlemen Prefer Blondes while high on crystal, these pictures are what you'll see? I get confused.

The heat from the lights threatened to turn Janice and Mandy into one giant puddle of melted beef jerky, silicone, liquified porcelain, red rubber and candle wax, but they kept thrusting because the show must always go on.

If you want to know what a Jell-O mold looks like in heaven, get on this NSFWBWAYWAAPTFUGBLT (Not Safe For Work But Why Are You Working At A Place That Frowns Upon Glorious Beauty Like This) link to see Mandy's exquisitely sculpted chest domes.

America isn't about to let the UK show us up as the demure gypsy flower capital of the world and so the makers of the show where Kate Middleton gets all her style inspiration from, My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding, are bringing us My Big Fat American Gypsy Wedding, which will start airing on TLC a week from Sunday. By the looks of this clip from TMZ, we will all overdose on elegance while watching the first episode. This shit is so high brow that I really feel like Sir Laurence Olivier should be narrating it. I mean, you will want to put on your best before hitting play. You're in the presence of refined company.

In the clip shot at a wedding in West Virginia last November, the precious jewel (No, she really is a precious jewel. Her name is Diamond.) wearing a couture dress from Hefty's Botticelli collection is looking to get into it with Mellie, the graceful gazelle wearing an exquisite ensemble she bought with nothing but sticky ones. Diamond (more like a CZ, no, more like a ball of foil) is the maid of honor and doesn't appreciate that Mellie, one of the groom's relatives, is talking shit about the wedding. Mellie sashays out of the church and the two handle their differences the way all fine ladies handle their differences: they get into a nipple-baring, pussy-flashing sidewalk fight. Just when you think that the rubenesque blossom is about to slap Mellie into dust, there's a surprising twist!

Alistair Cooke is up in heaven kicking himself for dying 8 years too soon, because presenting this clip on Masterpiece Theater would've been the highlight of his career.

Because iguanas only eat vegetables and the fear humans give off when they lick on the dried apricot-face of their creepy fake husband in public for attention, Courtney Stodden is a strict famewhoretarian and so naturally she's teamed up with PETA for a PSA. PETA lost a waxed sloth bear, but they gained a lizard goddess!

As she brings new meaning to the definition of "youthful sophistication" with her rhinestone choker and animal-tested frosted pink lipstick from Big Lots, Courtney pushes vegetarianism and says that she'll never eat a hamburger. (Bitch, stop, you know you'd bite into a cow's tit if Carl's Jr. paid you to do so.) PETA will literally take any trick off the stroll and throw her into one of their ads, so I get why they went with Courtney. But it wasn't smart of them to show Courtney talking about animal cruelty while a tortured Bizarre is sitting there, wishing that a ticket to PETA's headquarters would magically fall at his paws.