I Can't With You
Just a few days before the spirit of a 13-year-old skater boy from the Midwest possessed Demi Moore's body and made her nitrous her way to a seizure, she was partying next to her daughter Rumer Willis in the VIP section at the dick cake party Miley Cyrus threw for her piece. Demi is officially that divorced mom who crashes her kid's birthday party in the basement and hands all the boys bottles of Mike's Hard Lemonade before ripping off her Juicy Couture hoodie to shake her concrete titty balls to a Lil' Wayne song. If you took away the whole "murdering her husband" thing, bitch would be Nicole Kidman in To Die For.
TMZ says that at Miley's party, Demi guzzled down Red Bull after Red Bull like those cans had the jizz of eternal youth in them. Demi partied with Rumer and her friends in the VIP section before leaving at around midnight. Some source says that Demi is wrapping her thighs around her fading youth and refuses to let go. A different source tells People that even Bruce Willis knew Demi was fucked up in a sad way and tried to get her help before she snipped Ashton Kutcher's leash.
When you're a 49-year-old woman partying it up with your daughter at a club and you've got a can of bull piss in your hand while your eyes are watching Miley Cyrus lick the pube beads on a dick cake, somebody needs to tell your ass that this is what rock bottom of a mid-life crisis looks like and you need to stop. Now, I'm not saying that partying with your kids is wrong. I've partied with some of my aunties and it's usually the best. They buy all the drinks and they designate themselves as the responsible driver. They also have your back when you have to punch your way through the bathroom line to drunk barf into the sink. But what they don't do is ruin the damn party by overdosing on whip-its. I swear, Demi should leave that kind of behavior to White Oprah. Get your own mid-life crisis, Demi!
TMZ says that Demi Moore did have a seizure on Monday night, but it wasn't from downing a cocktail of coke, benzos and most of her liquor cabinet like most of us figured. They say that Demi and an Arizona junior high schooler who just got into Blur have a lot in common, because she was inhaling nitrous from a can when she slipped into a semi-coma. Yes, bitch was doing whip-its. I wish I meant that she was sucking fumes out of a Whippet's ass, but no. If Demi ever ran out of nitrous, she'd be walking on sunshine over to OfficeMax to get some computer duster like Allison's ass.
The source says that Demi was clouding her pain by inhaling whip-its and she ended up having a sort of seizure on the floor before she fell into a half coma. Even Lindsay Lohan is looking at Demi and thinking, "Broke trash!" You know, everybody's always screaming about how Demi is trying to hold on to youth by marrying a toddler, partying with her daughters and taking MySpace-like bikini pictures in her bathroom, but I shrugged all that off until now. Partying with your daughters is one thing, but drugging like a 14-year-old suburban kid is another. Grow up, Demi, and do coke off toilet seats like the rest of us adults do!
Hopefully, Demi gets the help that she needs, because going to the hospital for a whip-it overdose is not the way a 49-year-old should go through life. I can just picture Demi with Vicks under her nose and Limp Bizkit blasting out of her speakers. How dreadful. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get the sound of Devo out my head by sucking on a whip-it for old time's sake.
Cindy Barshop, formerly of The Real Housewives of New York City and currently of The Real Asswipes of Old Douche City, has come up with the perfectly pointless thing for rich ladies who have always wanted to know what it feels like to have the coochie of a fox. For just $220+, Cindy's team at her waxing salon Completely Bare will give you the newborn by waxing your punane until every part of it is touching air and then they'll warm it up with a vagina wig made from real fox fur. It's like a fur coat for your cooter and you it's so luxurious that you won't even care that after a long August day your crotch will smell like a herring taking a bath in a bowl of butt sweat at the bottom of a used bunny cage.
TMZ says that Completely Bare also offers a feathered merkin and the fur one comes in a bunch of colors including pink.
As my abuelita used to say, "Usted haga lo que quieras con tu chocha a y que voy a hacer lo que quiero con mi chocha." (Okay, she never said that, but I wish she would've said that.) It's your vagina, but do you really want a dead fox lying on your naked beaver? Mother Nature just punched the tears out of her eyes. Besides, that hot pink patch of furry fug looks like the scalped head of a troll doll. If you really want to see a troll doll going down on you when you look at your crotch, just get yourself a troll doll vibrator! Damn.
And PETA doesn't have to worry about throwing red paint on all the fox fur merkins out there, because the wearer's pussy will do it for them on a monthly basis.
This short-lived tourism poster for North Dakota is supposed to make you think that North Dakota is the land of lit up peen signs (I see you lit up peen sign) and street sluts of all races in Coldwater Creek clothes who will hump on you. But I see this more as North Dakota the land where it's perfectly acceptable to wear a turquoise collar outside of a black blazer!
I don't even know why this ad was pulled. It works for me! They should've just tweaked their tagline a bit. North Dakota: Where Literally The Only Thing There Is To Do Is Fuck Strangers.
via The Daily What
Justin Bieber and his daddy, the Canadian KFed, went to Shakey's in L.A. yesterday and as he jumped onto the booster seat on the driver side of his Range Rover, he flashed the new Jesus tattoo on his leg. It's nice and everything that the real Jesus is paying homage to the other Jesus with an ink portrait on his chicken leg, but it's incomplete! Let me fix that for Justin:
Jesus' eyes rolling up into Justin's shorts was just screaming for that. I will fax this to the tattoo shop inside of the Kid Zone Play Center, so Justin's artist is ready to go. I'm sure his legal guardians, Selena Gomez and Usher, have already signed a consent form so Justin doesn't have to worry about that.
GOOP is back with its first newsletter of the year and since Fishsticks Paltrow is obsessed with POOP, it's all about how you can reverse fuck your asshole raw by shitting out your insides while completely screwing over your checking account.
Back in 2009, GOOP featured a cleanse by a company called Clean and the power of Fishsticks caused it to sell out immediately. So she's slapped the GOOP name on her favorite poop pusher and is selling it for the price of a bottle of genuine Tibetan monk tears. (You know, that's the stuff she gargles with to keep the crap that comes out of her mouth from burning her vocal cords.) With the help of her cleanse doctor (yes, this bitch has a cleanse doctor), Dr. Junger, Fishy put together the perfect detox that will make you feel as empty inside as her. Let Dr. Junger break it down for you:
"The basic premise of this cleanse is that by creating the right conditions, our bodies will begin to reset themselves naturally. How? By adding in nutritionally-beneficial foods and supplements, and removing the major toxins in our diet (inflammatory and processed foods)."
"Unlike most cleanses, the goop cleanse by Clean is designed to deliver results right now, while also inspiring long-term health changes. The cleanse will help give your digestive system a break and also improve energy levels by bringing in high-quality vitamins and nutrients. Best of all, because you'll be eating during this program, you won't be left feeling hungry or tired which is typical of most cleanses."
If you look at the 6 steps above, the GOOP CLEANSE (which sounds like the name of a swamp water enema) is very easy to do. You wake up, put your hair in a ponytail, drink an overpriced shake, down a handful of overpriced vitamins, change your clothes, eat salad in your friend's backyard, change your clothes again, check your email while drinking another overpriced shake, change your clothes for the fourth time, light a fire and then sit back with a mug full of your own tears. The light a fire part is very important. Because when you sit back and realize that you've just spent over four hundred damn dollars on some bullshit, you'll want to throw yourself into an open flame to end your GOOP misery (goopery?).
Okay, okay, maybe just one comment. My hotel room has a toilet closet with a bidet in it, and I'm totally emptying the minibar into that bidet so that I can dunk my face in the booze stew to try to wash away Michelle Duggar's creepy creepy voice from my brain. Wait and babies aren't a responsibility? Fucking awesome! I'll take three then. They always get you onto to the plane first.
And here's Lady CaCa's latest first year art school video project which will suck up fourteen minutes of your life. Yes, it's 13:47 minutes long. Bitch, you're not Michael Jackson! If you have more important things to do with your 14 minutes, like wash your ass hairs one strand at a time, then let me break it down for you.
It opens with a scene straight out of CaCa, Interrupted where she's pushed on a gurney into some hospital room/train station lounge/vacuum of pretension after just having an abortion (or gender reassignment surgery, I'm not sure....). CaCa acts for a bit but all I can focus on is how her eyebrows look like albino pubes. Then suddenly we're in an apartment where CaCa speaks Google French, has an orgy with Cheerios, fucks her ego raw in the bathtub and twirls around in a maxi-pad bra. (I think that part symbolizes her gestating in a cocoon before emerging into the world as a Madonna clone.)
The next part was all a blur. I was slapped with Black Swan, punched in the eyes by Flashdance, kneed in the nose by All That Jazz and violently fucked in the ear by Step It Up before I completely overdosed on pretension and shut down. I'm not sure, but I think it ended with CaCa selling her soul to the dark side to become the devil empress of pop she is today. Thank you for letting us know you're a slave to the Illuminati, CaCa. But you didn't have to take up 14 minutes of our time to tell us that. I mean, Nina Hagen already told us and it only took her 5 seconds to do it!
Click here if you can't see that shit above
No, this is not another video of a porcupine sucking on corn kernels. This is a preview from TLC's new special Virgin Diaries, which features two virgins, who have never kissed before, kiss for the first time on their wedding day. NOTE TO CHILDREN EVERYWHERE: THIS IS WHY YOU SHOULD MAKE OUT BEFORE YOUR WEDDING DAY! Do you want to look like a mama bird barfing up her entails into her baby bird's beak hole? Do you want to look like you've only practiced kissing on a cat anus? Do you want to look like Jennifer Aniston making out with the hand she painted a groom face and a bow tie on?
When somebody kisses me like a guppy giving a tongue bath to a hermit crab, I quickly switch my face lips with my ass lips by doing a handstand, because maybe they'll have better luck with that.
You know, we can joke all we want, but these two bitches found love and we're all FOREVERALOOOOONE!
via ONTD (Thanks Marion & Beth)
Above is a video taken at one of Hell's franchises on earth (aka Walmart) of Rollback-hungry sluts going crazy over a discounted Xbox 360. You'd think this Xbox has a Fleshlight attachment that vibrates whenever you shoot a bitch up in Call of Duty 3 (let's call it the XXXbox Special), but nope. This is just America and we'd eat a baby's face off to get 10% off of an Xbox. But some crazed Black Friday soldier already had a plan ready when she stepped into the Walmart in Porter Ranch, CA early this morning to fight over that Xbox. The L.A. Times says that the crazy bitch, who had her two kids with her, started pepper spraying at all the other shoppers so they'd scatter for breathable air while she went for the Xbox. Around 20 people including chirruns got sprayed and one of them had to go to the hospital. The LAPD says the pepper-spraying crazy is currently on the loose and they're looking at surveillance video to try to find her.
Okay, I just have to laugh at this mess, because the image of some insane Black Friday terrorist attacking her rivals with pepper spray should replace all George Washington as the new face of the $1 bill. That's America! And I'm sure she just won a new job as the head of security at UC Davis.
Meanwhile, at another Walmart, a tornado of lunacy erupted over $2 waffle makers that most of those crazies will use twice. You know, I was about to say this clip is about as disgustingly gross as watching a bunch of maggots slithering on a piece of shit in fast motion, but then my eyes were blessed by the butt crack beauty in the blue t-shirt. Now, THAT should be the new face of the $1 bill.
All in all, it's been a pretty tame Black Eye Friday so far. As far as I know, nobody's death certificate reads "Death by Black Friday Walmart Tramping" yet, but the day is still young. I'm sure the Black Friday-ers are recharging their crazy at Cinnabon and will be ready to go for round two soon. USA! USA!