I Can't With You
The producers of Scary Movie 5 apparently didn't know that dealing with Lindsay Lohan is about as pleasant and soothing to the nerves as trying to shit in a public bathroom when the stall door lock is broken and you have to keep it shut with your hand. Everybody knows that trying to brush a shark's teeth with a baby toothbrush is easier than trying to deal with Blohan's messy ass, but the producers of Scary Movie 5 are still shocked and surprised that she's been a cracked out nightmare to work with.
Page Six says that LiLo is only in the movie for a few minutes and only needed to be on set for a few days, so things should've gone easy. But since LiLo is a professional fuck up, she missed rehearsal and didn't get on her flight to the set in Atlanta. LiLo said she had "walking pneumonia" and couldn't make it to the set, but a source says that she didn't want to make fun of herself and that's the real reason why she didn't show up. In the script, LiLo and Charlie Sheen make fun of themselves for being the human Hindenburg disasters of Hollywood. The script calls for LiLo to kiss on Charlie Sheen and she didn't want to do that either. The source explained it like this:
“Lindsay missed every meeting she had for the film, including script reads and wardrobe meetings. Then she missed her flight to Atlanta on Sunday to shoot the movie. The producers had been getting signs Friday that she was a mess, and would not be fit to work. She is under contract — so to get out of it, she had to prove that she was sick. She tried to prove she has walking pneumonia. She’s been locked up in her room at the Bowery Hotel. She’s been in a tailspin. Even Charlie Sheen worried she might not be able to do the scene.”
LiLo finally showed up after the studio threatened to sue her for breach of contract and sent a private jet to NYC to pick her up.
First of all, LiLo should want to suck on Charlie Sheen's gnarly warlock face, because do you know how many lines of the bad shit she can lick off his tongue? Second of all, "walking pneumonia" must be the delusional way of saying chlamydia and flaring coke sores. Third of all, the producers of Scary Movie 5 should've just stuck a hidden camera in her stolen suite at the Bowery and put that footage in the movie, because I'm sure there's nothing more hilariously horrific than seeing Blohan in her natural habitat. Fourth of all, we've been getting signs since 10 million Fridays ago that she is a mess.
Amanda Bynes Isn't Going To Let A Suspended Drivers License Stop Her From Terrorizing The Streets Of L.A.
Amanda Bynes, seen above wearing her favorite driving mask, reportedly had her drivers license suspended by the DMV a few days ago, because she's been charged with two hit-and-runs and because cross-eyed toddlers with bear claws (the morning time pastry, not the claws of a bear) for hands drive their Big Wheels better than she drives an actual car. The streets of L.A. are messy enough and the LAPD already have Lindsay Lohan, Justin Bieber, my mom's neighbor lady who hits a parked car at least once a month and three out of 5 L.A. drivers to worry about. They don't need to deal with Amanda's bumper car foolery too.
If you think that Amanda couldn't possibly be that much of a dumb dumb to drive on a suspended license, then you're doing something Amanda never does: THINK. TMZ has a video of the cops talking to Amanda after pulling her over for driving in the night time without her lights on. "Driving in the night time without her lights on" is probably what Amanda's therapist wrote in her file to describe her being extra slow in the brains.
While talking to Amanda, the cops never looked up to see the street lined with signs with Amanda's mug shot over the words "WARNING: IF YOU SEE THIS DUMBASS, PULL OVER AND PRAY FOR YOUR OWN SAFETY." TMZ thinks that the cops never ran her license, because if they did they'd see it was suspended. TMZ also says that there's a sliver of a chance Amanda's license is no longer suspended, but the chances of that being true are about as slim as the chances of her brain making a smart thought. The cops just let Amanda go with a warning.
Here's a warning to all L.A. drivers: YOU'RE ALL DOOMED!
Either Amanda is seriously kinky and has some kind of fetish, or she's realized that the only way she can get on TV again is if she gets arrested and makes an appearance on TLC's Cell Block 6. And the cops are keeping Amanda from her dream by not arresting her. Come on, LAPD, make that ho's dreams come true by putting her in cuffs!
(Pic via PCN)
When it's your birthday, the office manager at your job pulls out a card from a stack of birthday cards they bought on clearance at Big Lots, gets your co-workers to stop playing Solitaire for a second to sign it and then they give it to you with a Zinger from the vending machine and a $5 gift certificate to Gloria Jean's (not even Starbucks!). That's if you're lucky. But if you're Beyonce and it's your second time turning 31, your friends, family, Basement Baby and your stalker named Gwyneth Paltrow all handwrite you birthday notes that get plastered all over your website. On this special BeyDay, a bunch of the people who are lucky enough to bask in light that glows from her halo wrote messages on an Internet wall of birthday wishes to her. It would've been more subtle if they all lined up and took turns licking her ass.
I'm guessing that Fishsticks Paltrow made her maid write this message to Bey while she hand stitched a wig of imported French yak hair for her best friend, because that writing! It's trash! I refuse to believe that's the handwriting of a fine British lady like Fishsticks. Fishsticks only handwrites with a swan feather dipped in liquefied onyx and that doesn't look like ye old calligraphy to me. However, the whole "on the occasion of her 31st birthday" did make me roll my eyes to the left to the left, so maybe it's Fishsticks after all.
And when I didn't see a birthday message from Kim Kardashian, I figured that she's still pissed at Beyonce for ignoring her this weekend. But then I remembered that Kim can't read let alone write.
This whole Prince Hot Ginge getting naked in Las Vegas story has been stretched the hell out, so we might as well just keep stretching it like it's a piece of foreskin made of rubber.
One of the penny slot skanks who was partying up in PHG's suite at the Wynn sold her story to The Mirror and says that he picked her out of a group of sluts to touch tongues with him for almost 20 minutes. I know, that sounds like the real way Cinderella met her Prince Charming.
32-year-old Carrie Reichert who was born in Britain but lives in San Diego tells The Mirror that she first spotted PHG earlier in the night at the Wynn's pool area. Carrie knew exactly who he was, but some of the dumb trash tramps around her didn't. Then later on in the night, Carrie was partying at one of the bars when she was handpicked along with 9 other tricks to party with PHG up in his penthouse suite. When Carrie got up there, she found a fully naked and drunk PHG in a room full of naked slut bags. According to Carrie, it wasn't some huge ginger Caligula orgy. It was just some regular G-rated naked fun. Carrie said that PHG kept passing out naked hugs (cut to me passing out onto the floor from imagining getting a naked hug from PHG) and at one point he pressed his soft ginger stick against a glass window and shouted, “Look at me Vegas, these are the royal jewels!"
In possibly related news, at around the same time PHG pressed his royal jewels against the window, several people called into 911 to report that they witnessed two fireballs shoot out of the Wynn and illuminate the night sky.
When Carrie noticed that PHG was by himself for a second, she went in:
“I introduced myself, and right away knew he was completely wasted, very intoxicated. I had to let him know I knew who he was, and that I was born in England and right away he was like ‘Oh my Gosh, that’s amazing! I can’t believe you’re here in Vegas, we could be related’.
And I was like ‘Ah! He likes me!’ He was happy-go-lucky, yeah, just going with the flow. He gave me a huge hug and I introduced myself, and yeah, the party’s going. We both walked back together, and he grabbed my hand and walked back toward his bedroom. I found my way back there with him. We were talking and we had found some similarities and some interests him and I had together. And I was interested of course.
He said that he liked my eyes and was just going on and on about the military. He didn’t make too much sense. There was not very much talking at that time, his clothes were off. I had a bikini on. A string bikini. I had a party dress over that, and that came off. And I just had a bikini. We kissed for 15 to 20 minutes. I am sure somebody stumbled in as there were people going in and out of rooms all the time. We kissed again and he said ‘That was great’. He told me I was beautiful and gorgeous, which was sweet. Then we kind of nonchalantly returned to the party and kept drinking.”
When they got back to the party, a bunch of skanks were passed out on the sofa, so Carrie went back to her room and that was that.
I can't with the dumbasses who got coked up at that party and didn't keep their heads as clear as possible to fully take in all of the ginger hotness. I can't with the paid hooker whore who didn't find a way to drag PHG to the nearest chapel to have a quickie royal wedding with him. And I really can't with this Carrie trick. There she was alone with a naked PHG and all she did was make out with his tongue?! They'd have to bring in the British Army, Scotland Yard, every bobby in London town and several priests to try pry me off of his naked ass. They wouldn't be able to do it. The Queen herself could beat me in the back with her pocketbook and I still wouldn't move. We'd immediately be conjoined (at the crotch) twins and I don't think even surgery would pull us apart. But yet, this Carrie trick kisses him for a few minutes and then just flutters away?
Why is Carrie talking to The Mirror, anyway? Hell, why is Carrie talking at all? Bitch should've had her tongue shellacked to preserve the PHG saliva drops. This bitch is a disgrace to two nations!
We've all seen this episode a million times, but I guess Kelly Taylor is really into re-living the reruns, because that stringy-haired, Contempo Casuals-wearing, home-wrecking klepto skank is at it again. The literary journal of 100% truthiness that is The National Enquirer (via Page Six) says that while shooting that piece of crap Old Navy commercial, Jennie Garth and Luke Perry found love in a Brenda Walsh-less place. Ever since then, Kelly Taylor has been riding Dylan McKay and I bet that when she stares deep into his greasy tenhead, she sees Brenda Walsh winking back at her. Some source (aka a publicist for Old Navy using a pay phone at the Peach Pit) said this about Kelly and Dylan's reunion:
"Since seeing Luke again, Jennie has fallen in love with him and Luke feels the same. There is an electricity between them that has been revived after all these years. It just happened.”
That electricity isn't from chemistry, it's from Brenda Walsh burning them with her bitch eyes. Jennie's rep denies all of this and says she's just friends with Luke, but whatever. I know how that Dylan-jacking whore operates. Let Kelly have her fun while she can, because we all know how this ends. Yes, it ends with me finally checking into a mental hospital to seek treatment for not letting go of TV shows from the 90s, but it also ends like this:
Jennie: What are you doing for Labor Day?
Luke: Going to Baja.
Taylor Swift said goodbye to her 18-year-old boyfriend Conor Kennedy over a week ago, because she needs to promote her awful song and he has to go school supplies shopping since he's still in damn high school. Taylor left Conor in Hyannis Port and she took her wedding crasher ass back to Nashville. But Taylor must've realized that if Conor's left alone, the spirit of Little Edie might smack some reality back into his ass, so she sent a private jet to pick him up and bring him back to Nashville to be with her. I would say that the Kennedys need to try to get this tramp trollop of Walnut Grove on kidnapping charges, but then I imagined all the song she'd write in prison.
A source tells Page Six that Taylor is so hard up on Conor that she doesn't want to be away from him for a second and the two could elope any second now, “Taylor missed Conor so much, she sent a plane for him a few days later. He’s been with her ever since, and his family doesn’t know when he will be back. Things have become so serious between them so fast that no one in Hyannis Port would be surprised if they eloped. They are inseparable and are all over each other all the time. While his relatives really like Taylor, some feel their lovey-dovey behavior is cute while it has made others in the family feel a little uncomfortable.”
Taylor should just pull some Strangers with Candy shit and go back to high school to be with Conor. Then she can gaze at him during home room and squeal out heart-shaped farts from her mouth when she's named homecoming queen and he's named homecoming king. That's where Conor and Taylor's love belongs, behind closed high school doors. It doesn't belong in the real world with US adults (and yes, I typed that 10 minutes after searching eBay for Beverly Hills Teens on VHS). Taylor isn't dickmatized, she's Kennedymatized and that's worse.
Two weird things happened on VanityFair.com a few days ago. First, Vanity Fair actually interviewed Carson Daly in the year 2012. Second, Vanity Fair's George Wayne, who's thing is to try to shock the butt plug right out of his interviewees, asked Carson the question most of us ask ourselves when we wake up in the morning: When Xtina gets the fuck tingles in a major way, does she squirt like a geyser? Yes, Vanity Fair went there:
G.W. Let’s cut to the chase: Do you think Christina Aguilera squirts when she has an orgasm?
C.D. Are you kidding me? Is that your opener? I have no idea. I can’t imagine the thought. I mean, really.
G.W. I mean, clearly—just look at the outfits she chooses to wear onstage. Tell that girl to put some clothes on! I believe that is a rational question to ask you. I know it is a bit off-piste.
C.D. Yes, it is. I will say she does have a lot of people on her team, a whole entourage to help her, and she knows what she is doing. Oh boy, I love you. You are the best. You are so great—just the best. Despite your asinine question about Christina, it is still a pleasure to be here with you.
Wait, so according to George Wayne, if you wear four-sizes-too-small leather panties onstage, your sex parts will squirt like a walrus spitting water when you orgasm offstage later? No wonder I always stop for a few seconds and say "hmmmm" to myself when I see leather man panties in the window of some store on 8th Street.
And you know what I really didn't need today? The image of Xtina squirting up into Carson Daly's nostrils. That's not what I needed, so screw that GW bitch for that.
After both PETA and Alan Cumming figuratively threw red paint on Lady GaGa's body for throwing fur on her carcass, she has finally responded to their asses on her site, but she still isn't saying if any animals were harmed in the making of her ugly coats. Speaking like a true CaCa, she rambled out a stream of fart-dusted words and bullshit excuses to simply say: Chew my dick, I love wearing fur.
CaCa wrote that she won't say whether or not her furs are real, because she wears leather and doing so would make her a hypocrite. Okay. Then she made a sharp right down HUH? Bitch Road by saying that she wears dead animals in the name of art. If that whole "fur is art" thing made your eyeballs almost roll into the next room, then hold them down, because her entire statement will make your eyeballs roll into the next time zone.
To the fans. i want you to know that I care deeply about your feelings and views, and I will always support your philosophies about life. We've been having over-arching conversations about society, equality, and politics for the past five years, and we should continue. I do not however support violent, abusive, and childish campaigns for ANY CAUSE. Particularly one that I respect. "Animal Rights." I am choosing not to comment on whether or not the furs I purchase are faux fur-pile or real because I would think it hypercritical not to acknowledge the python, ostrich, cow hide, leather, lamb, alligator, "kermit" and not to mention meat, that I have already worn. This should already put me in a category as one who appreciates and adores the beauty of animals in fashion, but am not a strict vegan. I have truly always stayed away from skinned fur, especially i have never been able to afford a nice one, but this does not mean my morals are rigid and that I won't bend at the sight of an absolute art piece of a coat. I have no chains about this. You see a carcass, I see a museum pièce de résistance. But I am truly sorry to fans who are upset by this, its a fair and applaudable feeling about the health and safety of animals. I respect your views, please respect mine. And to campaigners, Save your flour to make bread for the children who are hungry. And Kim Kardashian is fabulous.
When I see a bitch wearing a carcass and calling it a "museum pièce de résistance," I see a dumb bitch. See, this is why I just can't with CaCa. The first few parts of her statement almost made me sip on the CaCa just a bit, but then she completely lost me again when she started clouding the fact that she just loves wearing fur with that art and morals shit. Bitch, please. A taxidermy statue of your dead pet sitting on top of your descrambler box in your living room IS art. A $10,000 pink fur coat from fucking Armani is not.
And about that whole "save your flour to make bread for the hungry children" ridiculousness. Bitch, sell your coat and feed a dozen villages or better yet, donate your coat to a needy 80-year-old UES socialite widow.
Also, when you end a statement with "Kim Kardashian is fabulous," all your previous points are INVALID, because obviously you have lost your damn mind.
Our thoughts and prayers should be with that pug who was rushed to a poison control center after it accidentally swallowed a toxic drop of saliva that dripped out of Kirk Norcross' skank mouth during that kiss. I really hope they make beef-flavored Valtrex tabs.
Jodie Marsh, the luminous rose who sprouted out from a crack in an Essex gutter over 33 years ago, was dating Kirk Norcross, some trick who was in the reality shit show TOWIE, for a quick minute, but they went to their separate fame whore corners after she refused to let his peen dive into her pristine oyster. Everyone knows that Jodie Marsh is as pure as a dew drop sitting on top of a daisy bud and her vagine lips are so pristine that any nun would use them as a prayer cloth. But Kirk Norcross didn't know this and after dating Jodie for two weeks, he put his frustrated dick back in his pants and ran off to Reveal magazine (via The Sun) to cry about how she teased his peen the entire time.
Kirk says that instead of humping his naked body, Jodie used him to hump the cameras and get as much attention out of their relationship as possible. Jodie always tweeted about Kirk and even posed naked with him in some ad for one of her body building products, but she turned him down every time his peen knocked on her labia gates to heaven. 24-year-old Kirk was so disgusted with Jodie's fame whoring ways that he pulled a fame whore move by selling a story about her fame whoring ways.
"Jodie was always teasing me and she'd talk about sex all the time. One day I had enough and texted her asking if we were ever going to have sex. I felt like I was 13 again – going around to a girl's house and just kissing on the sofa. But she said that she’d never sleep with me. So I told her that we should just be friends.
I'm not into the whole celebrity lifestyle, and Jodie really is. All she could talk about were photo shoots and pictures. She was desperate for publicity. I would go round to her house every day and sit there listening to her talk about herself."
It’s all about the fame for her. She hated TOWIE because until that show came out, she was the most famous person to come out of Essex. I'm a 24-year-old boy, and, yes, I wanted to have sex with you – but, now I look back, I realise I only wanted to have sex with the old Jodie Marsh. The one I had posters of on my wall."
Jodie took a break from getting vajazzled with The Queen and she went on Twitter to swat back at Kirk.
Look all banter aside, I'm really hurt. He was a good friend for TEN years. Then he tried to pressure me into sex & sold stories on me :-(
But we learn from every experience. Hopefully this will show girls why NOT to jump into bed with someone too quickly! Real men wait for you.
Yes, it's true that the old Jodie Marsh would bareback fuck a garden hose if it bought her a drink, but the new Jodie Marsh is not like that. The new Jodie Marsh has finally realized that she's the most beautiful woman in the world and will only bareback fuck a garden hose if it buys her a drink AND gets to know her first. That Kirk twat can go screw a rose bush. No, seriously, if he wants to know what it's like to get with Jodie, he should screw a rose bush. It's practically the same thing. The scent of fresh roses will fill his nostrils as he screams out over the sharp stabs to his peen.
And here's Jodie Marsh spreading class and elegance to Barbados on Grand Kadooment Day.
If your $257,000 Ferrari is parked in the valet zone of The Mercer Hotel in SoHo and a cop starts writing your ass a ticket for being parked in the valet zone, you should just take the ticket, drive your car to a $75-a-day parking garage (and that's probably the cheapest parking garage in that neighborhood) and then go back inside to do Cristal shots out of her reality trash girlfriend's belly button. But that's not what 28-year-old Julien Chabbott, who is the co-creator of the Line Snob app, did and it got him a day in the clink.
Jalopnik says that Damian Mory was shooting video of the Ferrari when stupid twat extraordinaire Julien came out of the hotel, refused to take the ticket Officer Recio was writing and got in his fancy ass car to drive away. Officer Recio told Julien not to even think about driving away and the cop put his foot in front of the wheel to let a bitch know that he wasn't playing around. There are many ways to show the world that you're a dumb, entitled bitch and one of them is to drive away when a cop tells you to do the opposite. Julien hit the gas and also allegedly hit the cop's foot. BOOM. Game Over. Julien was pulled out of his car and forced to make out with the cobblestones. Julien was arrested, taken down to the police station and charged with being a dumb bitch, being a dumb bitch and being a dumb bitch.
A spokesperson for the NYPD tells the Observer that Officer Recio had to go to the hospital to be treated for an injury to his foot and hand. He was released a quick second later.
I could watch this video over and over again. Julien is dumb as shit, the cop is crazy as hell and I am entertained! Slow claps for everyone. Really, don't all of us already know that when you screw with a cop, you're either going to get a taser to the ass or a pavement facial scrub? But what do you expect from Julien's dumb ass? I mean, he's dating Stephanie Pratt, Spencer Pratt's sister and face twin, so we obviously know that he's not that great at making life choices.