Jessica Biel has said in interviews that before she leaves the house, Justin Timberlake swishes into the room, puts his hand under his chin, sticks his pinky finger out and gives her the Suri look over to make sure she's keeping it cute. Well, the next time Justin tries to style her ass, she needs to tell him to suck on a dirty butt plug, because he's doing her wrong. Jessica wore this mess to the Total Recall premiere in L.A. last night and I'm guessing she wanted her to look to match the reviews. The whole thing is a rotten mess. This is what it would look like if someone barfed up Pepto-Bismol into a costume jooree box full of twisted pearl and rhinestone necklaces.
1. The face is just one color. Isn't there a Rite-Aid on Hollywood Blvd. where Jessica could've bought some hot pink Wet 'n Wild lip gloss or something?
2. The necklace is scraping three layers off of of my OCD nerve, because I just want to spend the rest of the day untangling it.
3. THAT DRESS. Does bitch need that many pockets? Bitch is just going to a premiere, she's not running away from home. The only good parts on that dress are the tititty pockets. I love a good titty pocket. It's the best place for you to stuff a Capri Sun pouch in, so you can sip up fruity deliciousness while keeping your hands free.
Jessica could've made herself look hotter, though, by standing next to Kate Beckinsale. Who ever told Kate that it's okay to skin an alien lizard from V in the name of fashion IS wrong.
Here's more pictures from last night's premiere, which brought out Jessica, Kate, Kate's husband Len (who directed that mess), Colin Farrell and Colin's sister.
Here's the trailer for Horrible Bosses, which is sort of like if 9 to 5 ate too much online Viagra and didn't mind at all that a Bachman-Turner Overdrive 8-track got stuck in its orange Camaro. It stars Jason Bateman, Kevin Spacey, a fugged up Colin Farrell, Jamie Foxx, Charlie Day, Jason Sudeikis and Jennifer Aniston as a horny dentist who eats raw hot dogs in black lingerie. FINALLY! It's nice to see Jennifer Aniston play a character I can relate to (because I eat raw hot dogs in black panties all the time). But I'm sure her character will still end up falling in love with one of those dudes at the end and they'll kiss in front of a sunset as an old Dionne Warwick song plays. It's The Aniston way!
And I'm guessing this movie takes place in a world where the words "I QUIT THIS BITCH" don't exist.
At Elizabeth Taylor's funeral last week, Colin Farrell read a poem to a crowd of mourners making "....the fuck is he doing here?" faces while wondering if he'll do their funerals too for a fee. Unfortunately, you can't hire Colin to read a poem of your choosing at your funeral. Colin tells Access Hollywood that the reason he was there is pretty damn simple: they were friends! No, Colin wasn't in training to join Elizabeth's ex-husband harem. They just got along and Elizabeth specifically wanted him to coo out poetry at her funeral.
Colin explained to Access Hollywood at CinemaCon in Las Vegas yesterday, “How did we become friends? You know, the old story of boy meets girl, and boy pesters girl with too many phone calls at inappropriate hours of the night. I was just lucky enough to become her friend in the last year and a half. I adore her… still. Elizabeth chose it (the poem Gerard Manley's "The Leaden Echo and the Golden Echo"). It was a tricky poem as well. Even in passing she had me under the thumb, sweating bricks. She asked someone else to ask me [to read it]. I just miss her; I just miss her; I just miss her."
Colin didn't mention this, but Elizabeth also requested that he read the poem while only wearing her good luck white diamond clip-on earrings on his nipples.
You can add this to the reasons why you would let Colin Farrell eat the last spoon full of Thrifty's ice cream in your freezer after he hits it from the back. Not only do his pores secrete whiskey-flavored lube, but he also befriends old legends and reads poems at their funerals. AND Colin's brows look just like a pair of woolly bear caterpillars. But unlike woolly bears, it won't sting when his brows piss on your finger. So add that to the list!
Elizabeth Taylor was laid to rest in her $11,000 coffin (sadly, it's not diamond encrusted) yesterday and she delivered one last act of glamour before everybody said their final goodbyes. A small group of Liz's family and friends arrived at Forest Lawn Memorial Park in Glendale, Calif. and waited for 15 minutes until she was carried in. Elizabeth's rep told People that she wanted to be late to her own funeral. That's right. A true queen of glamour always keeps her subjects waiting.
I was hoping that an army of shirtless hunks wearing pharaoh costumes carried Liz in as albino children tossed rhinestone-covered white rose petals down the aisle, but she kept things simple. La Liz's casket was covered with gardenias, violets, and lily of the valley. Rabbi Jerry Cutler officiated the funeral which included a spot of total WTF randomness. Apparently, Elizabeth counted Colin Farrell as one of best friends forever and so he read a poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins during the service.
No farewell waltz from Kathy Ireland? No smoldering silent soliloquy from Tom Ryan? But a poem reading from COLIN FARRELL of all hos?! How did that happen? Fuck hearing about the details of how an icy fairy turned Anderson's Cooper hair silver with the touch of a crystal wand! This is the back story I really want to hear (I don't mean that). I bet that at the end of the funeral, Colin pulled two greasy gold rings off of his ears and gently tossed them into her coffin before saying, "These have always brought me luck." Someone had to do it.
Before we belly flop into this mess of dick grease and red dye stains, can I just say that I've been trying so hard to exorcise RiRi's "Oh naaa naaa naaa" shit song from my head for weeks. It follows me wherever I go and terrorizes me no matter what I'm doing. Yesterday, I was FINALLY able to wash it out and replace it with Lady Analbelly's (or whatever their name is) "Need You Now" (you can file your judgments here). Yes, I know it's like replacing caca with vomit, but I was happy to flush the NA-NA from my head finally. But last night, as I was waiting in line at the grocery store to buy jelly beans and a bag of carrots, a child eviling with a raggedy ponytail started singing THAT SONG out loud. This confirms that children are creatures from the dark side who can scan your mind for weaknesses and use it against you when you least expect it. And now the NA NA is back thanks to that little girl with a jacked up ponytail. Moving on...
The Sun's technical engineers built a microscopic BlackBerry dingle that crawled into RiRi's phone and sucked in all the text messages she sends out including the ones to Colin Farrell. Apparently, Colin and RiRi got hard for one another when they met on Graham Norton's show last December. They exchanged numbers and she's been filling his BlackBerry screen with all kinds of naughty shit every since. Colin, who is split up from the mother of his child, can't wait to make their sext adventures happen in real life. The Sun's source went on, "Colin was taken aback by some of the texts. He reckons he might well be in there. They're both single, so why not? Colin and Rihanna have made plans to meet up in LA when their hectic schedules allow."
So this story is about two individuals who are currently partaking in the dry sport of text fucking and will most likely never take it further than that... Okay. But this totally reminds me of one of the best (see: most pathetic) sext sessions I've ever had. It was the dude from Oregon that I met online. This motherfucker never wanted to talk on the phone and I quickly learned why. He was like the Fellini of sexting! It was a serious art for him. Dude would write detailed stage directions like: *walking into the room while slowly ripping my shirt off over my head*. Stupid shit like that. I'm a wham, bam, let's do this kind of bitch, so I finally asked him to send me a picture of his peen. This ho wrote back, "Let me describe it instead." BITCH WHAT?! Stop harlequin-ing my ass, get in front of a bathroom mirror and take that dick shot! Seriously, the only reason they have cameras on phones is for dick picture taking! But I let him continue to write his soft core text play, because it was funny.
I'd try to play along, but sometimes I'd forget the format and he'd remind me in a not-so-polite way how he does things. He'd text in parenthesis: "(don't forget to use the * when describing an action)." Shit. Since when did sexting become a community college English class? I should've received credits for that shit. Oh, how many times I wanted to type: "*CUT. SCENE. *going to get a bag of cheese curls*"
It was seriously one of the most unsexiest things I've ever done and that's saying a lot. The only thing he made me want to grab was my throat to keep from laughing.
After Cyrano de Bergerwhack ate up my text message plan by writing the worst romance novel ever, it was time for the grand finale and I really couldn't wait. The anticipation might have given me a twitch or two. It was like waiting for the last episode of Lost. And then it came, this ho actually typed out: "oh my god *i'm cumming so hard* xcvdjfdsalkjflaksdfjoidfuoudfads123adfjkljsdeoi."
I STILL CAN'T.
What the hell was that tossed salad of characters supposed to mean? Bitch came so hard that his cum drops shot at the keys? Or that he had a full body seizure which made his fingers pound against the keys before conveniently landing on "send"? No, thanks. I turned off my phone and made a mental note to block his number. Ho went too far.
And now that I think about it, it was probably Colin Farrell.
And here's Colin Farrell looking like Marv Albert after a viscous toupee snatching on the L.A. set of his new movie Horrible Bosses. Colin allowed the fugly to barf all over his head in order to play a coke-addicted monster boss. This is a little weird for me, because Colin looks exactly like my high school world history teacher who would eat toothpaste during class and once asked the girl in front of me if he had a stain on the ass of his pants. I took this to mean that he gambled with a wet fart and thought he lost big. Luckily, his asshole sneeze didn't leave a mark. But thanks for taking me back, Colin!
Now that it's starting to get hotter I'm seeing more and more dudes walking the public streets wearing a cardigan but nothing else underneath it. Not even a half-shirt, a dickey or pasties. Nothing. It makes them look like they reek of Cool Water and are graduates of Dimitri The Lover's School of Elegance. Maybe they are sick of chicks having all of the nip slip fun, so they are trying to get themselves a piece. It works for me.
I only wish that Mr. Rogers was still around to partake in this new trend. Actually, maybe it's better that he isn't, because I don't think Lady Elaine Fairchilde could take getting an eye full of Mr. Rogers nip.
Anyways, here's Colin Farrell going commando on top while leaving a store in Los Feliz, CA yesterday.
When I woke up this morning, I was hoping to see new pictures of a hot piece with wood, but this is not really what I had in mind. That being said, my genitals will still snatch it up and run.
Here's Colin Farrell at LAX with his latest baby mama Alicja Bachleda, and also sunning his nipples in Mexico.
Colin and Alicja decided to leave their 2-month old baby friend at home, because nothing kills orgasms like non-stop crying and the scent of fresh diarrhea. Well, unless you're Sarah Jessica Parker. That bitch sniffs a dirty diaper like it's a bottle of poppers.
Entertainment Tonight says that Janet Jackson and Colin Farrell had an "intimate" dinner together at the Polo Lounge in Beverly Hills last week. Colin and Janet were sitting side-by-side in a booth.
No, Janet was not using Colin's pubes to floss her teeth after their meal. No, Colin was not hitting Janet from the back while she was bent over the table. No, Janet was not dipping Colin's peen into blue cheese dressing and smothering it all over her lips. They were just having dinner. But obviously they must be swapping genital jelly, because celebwhores cannot have dinner together unless they are doing sex to each other. Factual.
And Colin's Polish girlfriend just had a baby! Colin should be at home burping babies, not running around town burping vaginas.
The Polish papers have already reported this weeks ago that Colin Farrell has a brand new son, but now it's confirmed. Colin's spokeswhore says that his girlfriend, Polish actress Alicja Bachleda, popped out their first baby together on October 7th.
Colin and Alicja actually gave their kid a normal name. A name that doesn't cause your eyes to do the hustle. They named him Henry Tadeusz Farrell. I know. What the hell kind of GD celebrities do Colin and Alicja think they are? They better enroll him in a celebkid-free school, because if they don't, Sparrow and Bronx will make fun of him for having a name like Henry. That might have been a Twilight Zone episode.
Anyway, this is Colin's second kid. He has a 6-year-old son with Kim Bordenave named James.
Colin and Alicja met while filming a movie together. Two seconds later, Colin threw a jizz ball her way and she got knocked up. At this rate, Colin will have 6 kiddies and just as many baby mamas by the time he's 40. Keep fucking that chicken, Colin!
Source: Associated Press