The Jokes Write Themselves
Marky Mark and Donnie Wahlberg are selling their pounded meat at a restaurant in Boston and they have named that mess the best name of a burger place since Fudruckers, Beef 'N' Buns and Burger, She Wrote. They are naming that shit: WAHLBURGERS. WAHLBURGERS! This almost makes up for the death of Kenny Rogers Roasters.
The Hollywood Reporter says that Marky Mark and Donnie have already leased a 4,300 square foot space at Hingham Shipyard near their Eye-talian restaurant Alma Nove. They are also planning to open a pizza place sometime next year.
WAHLBURGERS! What a damn mess. I bet you they'll have shit on the menu like Say Hi To Your Muthah's Cookies, The Right Stuffed Baked Potato, Please Don't Go Grilled Cheese, Good Piebrations and Funky Bunch of Lettuce Leaves.
And I'm sure after they open that pizza restaurant, they'll open a Vietnamese takeout place called Phuk Yu Up.
Marilyn Monroe plucked her hairline back two inches and meth plucked Lindsay Lohan's hairline back two inches. One of Marilyn Monroe's most famous moments was when she aired her down low bits over a subway grate and Lindsay Lohan's down low bits probably smell like a subway platform in August. Marilyn Monroe fucked the President of the United States and Lindsay Lohan fucked a dealer who said that he once voted for president of something. Marilyn Monroe died way before her time and Lindsay Lohan's career died way before its time. So naturally, Lindsay Lohan thinks that Marilyn Monroe is her spirit twin and wrote this foreword for Susan Bernard's book Marilyn: Intimate Exposures (via ONTD):
"Marilyn was the beautiful bad girl in that tight, rose-colored dress. The character she played was strong and taking control, which I unconsciously knew at that young age was a necessary quality for a woman. I can understand the photographer Bernard of Hollywood’s statement, 'it took a superhuman effort to be Marilyn.’ I identify
People in their mind have created who I am and act as if there is no real person inside of me. Just like Marilyn. Marilyn never wanted to be just a celebrity. Neither do I … I had always thought that movie stars were in films that would last forever in your mind. But now the films don’t. I don’t want to be remembered as someone who just wanted to be photographed, who goes out at night, and gets in trouble.
Heath Ledger once said to me, 'It’s built you up to knock you down and that’s all it is. Marilyn said she had no foundation. But she said she was really working on it. I’ve been trying to do the same thing … I believe in myself and I’m a good actress.”
I'm no Mike Holmes but can you really build a strong foundation with Red Bull barf, shit balls of delusion and sea jasper dust?
This delusion-headed bitch's comment about not wanting to be a celebrity and that story about White Oprah thinking she can get Tina Fey in her movie is reason enough for the Surgeon General to pass a law forcing all drug dealers to slap a warning label on all their Ziploc bags of the illegal bad shit. That label should read, "SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING: Snorting, smoking, injecting or licking this shit may cause you to form delusions of grandeur in your head. Don't believe my ass? Look at a Lohan."
Welcome to another edition of "The Shit That Comes Out Of Megan Fox's Mouth Hole." The future Oscar ceremony sweat warmer and the reincarnation of Plato (not Dana, the other one) must have just come across Marilyn Monroe's Wikipedia page, because she tells Italian magazine Amica (via ONTD) that tattoo of Marilyn's face on her arm is queefing out negativity into her positive aura and so she's lasering it off. Sort of like how that fire roasted douchebag Michael Bay lasered Megan Fox's negative energy off of the Transformers movies. Megan adjusted the energy-cleansing dildo of burning sage in her ass and said this about her Marilyn tattoo:
"I’m removing it. It is a negative character. She suffered from personality disorders and was bipolar. I don’t want to attract this kind of negative energy in my life. And who knows? I’m thinking of removing some other tattoos, but the pain in the sessions of laser removal is terrible."
Bitch, that busted tattoo could say the same thing about you. In other words, bitch's facelift pushed the thin layer of bull shit out of her eyes and made her see that her tattoo looked more like a Blasian Beyonce impersonator in a dusty swap meet wig.
This is good news for the other hos in Marilyn's crypt since they can rest now that her body will stop rolling, but this is bad news for all of the casting agents of Hollywood. They can no longer use Megan's shattoo to hide the fact that they aren't casting her because her acting skills make a dried cat piss stain on a cardboard box seem like the Meryl Streep of its kind. The "we just don't have the make-up budget to cover up Megan's lovely tattoo...yeah, that's it" excuse is out of play. Damn, that Megan!
That being said, don't ever change, Professor Whore Face!
With the 10th anniversary of 9/11 coming up, we're going to hear a million "How I Missed Death On 9/11" stories, but this one is so special that it will be put into history iPads for our great grandchildren to read about when they ask the question, "How did Fishsticks Paltrow become a saint?"
Lara Lundstrom tells The Morton Report that on the morning of September 11, 2001, a real-life Sliding Doors moment co-starring future saint Fishsticks Paltrow caused her to miss her subway train by 10 seconds, which then caused her to show up late to her job at the Twin Towers. You know where this is going. I'm ICANT-ing from every part of my body, so I'll let The Morton Report take it from here:
“It was one of those mornings that felt good, you had a little skip in your step. What the heck - I always cut across 7th Avenue. Then all of the sudden a silver Mercedes SUV came barreling down towards me.
"I stopped and they screeched to a halt. Then it developed in to one of those classic who-goes-first situations. It got ridiculous. Then I made eye contact with the Mercedes driver. OMG it was Gwyneth Paltrow.
"I knew she lived down the street, so it made sense. She waved me across, I crossed and she continued on her way. At least if I was late for work I had a story to tell.”
She raced to the subway, hurtled down the stairs to the platform only to watch the doors of the 1/9 slam shut.
She had no idea she had just experienced her own real life Sliding Doors moment, the movie starring Paltrow about a chance romantic encounter that depended on whether or not she caught a subway train.
"At that time I was annoyed at everything that had made me late that day, including Gwyneth Paltrow," Lara recalls.
Right when Lara climbed up the stairs from the subway to the concourse of her office building, the first plane hit and she ran back down. I'm still ICANT-ing by the way...
Since that terrible day, Lara has lived with two dreams: one recurrent nightmare where she perishes in the towers, the other where she thanks Gwyneth Paltrow for saving her life. It was her true-life Sliding Doors moment, an encounter that saved her life
"If I had made that train I would have been at my desk on the 77th floor of 2 World Trade center," says Lara. She has now written that letter, reminding the Oscar-winning actress of their chance meeting on the street and the dramatic impact on her life.
So this is what the Insane Clown Posse was talking about. It truly is a miracle. If Rosemary never switched her baby with Blythe Danner's in the nursery, Fishy never would've been raised with a silver spoon up her ass and then she never would've been rich enough to drive a silver Mercedes SUV through Manhattan and then she never would've saved Lara's life.
The story doesn't mention it, but there's a good reason for why Fishy was driving herself like a common peon that day. Fishy was forced to fire her chauffeur after he had the nerve to show up wearing polyester pants from Penney's when he knew very well that she's allergic to the sight and scent of them. So if you want to get technical, the sainthood should really go to polyester (or Rosemary), but we'll let that one slide.
Fishy's publicist says that she's "deeply moved" by the story. He means that figuratively, of course, since Fishy can't physically move at the moment since this story put another 50 hundred tons on her ego.
GOOP: Never forget.
You will finally stop waking up in the middle of the night screaming at the thought of Bongo getting stuffedanimalnapped and sold to a group of deviant Plushies who run an underground Beanie Baby sex slave ring. Because Bongo, the Beanie Baby monkey who went missing in on the streets of Brooklyn last week, was reunited with the crazy couple who raised him as "their son" and offered up $500 for his safe return. How did I not guess that a lady with Leslie Abramson hair was involved in this mess the entire time?
Bonni Marcus and Jack Zinzi live on the Upper East Side, but they were back in Brooklyn this past weekend putting up more flyers when they spotted Luis Barreto (the dude in the middle) hanging out on the street. They asked him about their beloved Beanie Baby. Their broken hearts were glued back together as Luis told them that he found Bongo on top of a parking meter and brought the monkey back to his apartment. Bonni told The New York Post that she could feel Bongo before she even stepped into Luis' apartment.
Marcus, who teaches English as a second language at a Manhattan private school, Rennert Bilingual, said she "felt Bongo’s presence" even while approaching the apartment.
But she said she had to closely examine the monkey to make sure it was Bongo. She confirmed this through the doll’s identifying marks, including a "burn scar" she had accidentally given the stuffed animal five years ago after a lit ash from a cigar she was smoking blew onto it.
"I was devastated and gave up smoking after it," she said.
"Felt Bongo's presence?" No, bitch, that was just the coke kicking in.
Luis almost didn't hand over Bongo, because he too grew to love the monkey and wanted to keep him. Luis finally agreed to let Bongo go after Bonni promised that he could visit whenever he wanted. Bonni, Bongo and Jack went back to Manhattan where they celebrated by boozing at bars before snuggling together in the bed they share.
Two things. Are you going to call Beanie Baby Protective Services or shall I? Because bitch not only burned its fur with cigar ash, but she also lost him in the streets! What's next? Bitch is going to drown him by accidentally throwing him in the bag of dirty laundry she takes to the laundromat? Bongo obviously belongs with everyone's favorite foster Beanie Baby mother, Jennifer Aniston.
Second, what does that stupid monkey have that makes crazies fall in love with it? It is to crazies what catnip is to cats. What Dominican dick is to John Travolta's Scientolohole. Now, Luis will be trolling eBay late at night to get his Beanie Baby fix by bidding on another Bongo. I swear, Bongo is totally the gateway Beanie Baby.
Don't even tell me what the story behind that headline is. I didn't read it on HuffPo and I don't plan to. Since it came from Katie Holmes night, the story has been passed through a filtration system involving 6 publicists, 5 censors from Scientology, Tommy's ears, a fairytale author, and is therefore boring.
Just let me believe that Katie accidentally walked in on a nekkid and greased up Tommy Girl barking at raccoon before turning to her to say, "It's cool. He's with me." That has to be the real story. Richard Gere ain't got shit on Tommy, thankyouverymuch.
Here's Katie wearing a whole lot of WTF on Leno last night.
Civil wars, Real Housewives foolery and all breaking news are on pause for the next few days while CNN's sessiest messenger recharges his giggle in an unknown location somewhere. Mah Boo became Mud Boo for this picture he Tweeted last night from his current resting spot. Anderson Pooper says he's not at a spa or anywhere near the Dead Sea. What the hell kind of clues are those? Mah Boo is being all coy and shit, so I'll have to make do (doo) with what he's given us. My official guesses:
2. Jessica Simpson's septic tank?
3. The backyard trough where all the Kardashians scrub off the layers of make-up every week?
4. The Redneck Games?
5. The Poltergeist pool?
6. The set of Australia's Hey Hey It's Saturday?
7. In a campground after winning a game of "Who Am I?" with his impersonation of John Travolta's XXXL suppository?
8. Outside of my apartment window where he's using a fake backdrop and wearing a disguise to throw me off? YES! YES! YES!
I don't know! Mah Boo also said that if you're a world traveler, you should know this. I am a world traveler (I've seen at least 10 episodes of Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego, okay?) and I don't know this. Mah Boo needs to Tweet a full body follow-up photo. And I mean FULL BODY. Because as a world traveler, I know that certain native muds dry differently on a peen (just go with it).
And speaking of that mud, is it too late to ask who ever is with Mah Boo to carefully scrape that mud off of his body and pour it into an air-tight Ziploc bag? Then, can they FedEx it to me overnight so I can use Mah Boo's dirty mud to make an extra special dild...I mean, flower pot. Shit. That just got me an extra 6 months on the restraining order, right?
via Mah Boo's Twitter (Thanks to everybody who sent this in)
Sometimes a priceless story comes along that makes you feel grateful that there are TMI whores out there who will spill the crotch crustaceans to sell their book and this is one of those times. Florence Henderson is out peddling her memoirs and she's doing so by releasing an excerpt that explains the time the Mayor of New York made her coochie hum the melody to Sea of Love by giving her the gift that keeps on itching. The New York Daily News reports the story that'll make every guest at the Brady house wish they would've never tried Alice's famous cold craw stew.
"I was lonely. I knew it wasn't the right thing to do," writes Henderson, who was married at the time.
Henderson returned home after the romp. When she awoke the next morning, she spotted "little black things" crawling over her body.
Henderson immediately called a doctor who helped her get rid of the tiny parasitic insects also known as pubic lice.
Lindsay, ever the politician, sent Henderson flowers and an apology letter.
"Guess I learned the hard way that crabs do not discriminate but cross over all socioeconomic strata," Henderson writes in "Life is Not a Stage," set for publication in September.
"He must have had quite the active life. What a way to put the kibosh on a relationship."
Mayor Lindsay died in the year 2000 so he's giving crabs to the angels now and can't defend himself or turn down an offer to be the spokeswhore for Nix's crab-killing cream for slutty seniors.
Those were the good old days. When the dicks of New York politicians were whipping up a serving of crab pie in the crotches of wholesome TV moms. Nowadays our politicians only do boring shit like send boring pictures of their boring peens to Twatter tramps.
And thanks to Florence Henderson, I'll now be singing "Here's a story of a whory lady..." all day long.
Not to be outdone by Anthony Weiner, Khloe Kardashian left her bra at the hotel and gave Fox News another tete to talk about.
While promoting her reality show with Kourtney Kardashian on Fox & Friends this morning, Khloe's nipple grew increasingly scared of returning to the hotel to find Lamar's teeth waiting to gnaw on it and it tried to escape. By the time censors looked in the FCC handbook to see if wookie nipple should have a black bar over it, Khloe's segment was already over. Khloe laughed it about in on Twitter and said that she loves that her tit was on TV.
I had a nip slip and I loved it! But my twat is fine! "@KourtneyKardash: Her twat is twisted. Has that happened to anyone?"
My mom just called me saying my nip slip is "all over the internet!" Ha! Is it weird that I love it?! Who knew nipples were so special?
Of course Khloe loves this. In the Kardashian household, slipping a nip on national television gets you a .5% raise in your allowance. And a Khloe Kardashian nip slip is extra special, because it makes all the sasquatches howl in the forest. Tim Peeler salutes Khloe!
via Animal NY