Well Well Well

Leonardo DiCaprio used to be able to stroll into any modeling agency in the world, walk up to the wall of pictures, point to any model and say "I'll take that one, no need to wrap her up!", and he'd get her. But those days are coming to an end and he got triple-slapped across the face by something called REJECTION when 20-year-old "it" model Cara Delevingne refused to go back to his hotel room with his 38-year-old ass.

Life & Style (via Page Six) says that at a party at Cannes for The Great Gatsby, Leo kept trying and trying and trying and trying to get Cara to give him her time and she did what so many Oscar voters have done for years: she ignored his ass. If only Rose was determined to hold on to Jack's hand as much as Leo was determined to get Cara onto his peen, the bitch would've never let go!

Because the sight of a sad, lonely, ho-loving dog pawing at her feet was trying to ruin her buzz, Cara finally gave him her number. Some source said this:

“Leo kept hitting on her at the ‘Great Gatsby’ bash at Cannes. He even lunged at her at one point, and she dodged him. He was begging her to go back to his hotel room, but she declined. Eventually, [she] gave him her number, but we’re not so sure she’s into him."

Poor Leo. Somebody just hit the FF button on his transformation into the real-life Don Draper.

Leo should get a little credit, though, because he kept on kept on even after Cara shook her head "fuck no" when he told her that he's giving her the opportunity to visit the place 35 million models before her have visited. You'd think that hearing no from a chick would've made his head explode as his dick spat out a white flag before retiring up into his body for the rest of its life. Leo put a Band-Aid over the bruise on his ego and probably hit on another 20-something model (who probably turned his ass down too).

And here's some pictures of Cara leaving a yacht (not Leo's) in Cannes the other day and leaving a party with Wonky McValtrex. Yes, Cara hangs out with Wonky, but turns Leo down. Board up all the windows in Cannes before Leo jumps out of one.

....and then Kristen Stewart lifted her tear-stained face, looked at the unicorn on Taylor Swift's
 shirt and screamed, "Those used to dance in his magical forest hair!" ....And then Kristen Stewart wiped away her tears, stared at her hand and screamed, "I didn't know I had the ability to make these."

UsWeekly's fanfiction department reports that yesterday afternoon, Kristen Stewart and a friend drove to Taylor Swift's house in Beverly Hills after visiting another friend's house. A source says that KStew and her friend spent all day there before driving back to her house.

WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?!

Well, it probably means that Taylor Swift ran out of famous (or famous-ish) white dudes to date and write songs about, so now she's writing about other people's break-ups instead. She already got a few songs out of Selena Gomez and now she's moving on to Kristen Stewart's latest break-up. (WARNING: Taylor Swift's next album will have a Twatlight theme.) This also means that the unicorn and rainbows wallpaper in Taylor's Lisa Frank-themed parlor slid off the walls, because that much insufferableness in one room could melt hardened glue.

Or maybe Taylor just wanted to mend KStew's broken heart with a little, good old-fashioned scissoring.

When January Jones got knocked up and wouldn't say who she made a baby with, Merv Griffin Productions almost greenlit the "Who's January Jones' Baby Father?" game show and Maury Povich told friends (no, he didn't) that his career isn't complete until he says "YOU ARE THE FATHER" to the true father of her baby. "Who shot a load of baby batter up into January Jones' ovaries?" became the biggest question since "Who shot JR?" Some guessed Jason Sudeikis, some guessed Bobby Flay and some guessed (and got threatened with a lawsuit for it) Matthew Vaughn. January Jones never said, and in an interview with The New York Times, the iceberg with blond hair says that it's really nobody's business.

“That’s my son’s business. It’s not the public’s business.

Jack Nicholson once told me: ‘You should never give your personal life away, otherwise people will pick you apart. They’ll never believe in your character. Women should have lots of secrets. It’s our right to have secrets. Otherwise, what would we write in our memoirs?”

What I'm taking that to mean is that Jack Nicholson is probably the father. What I'm also taking that to mean is that January Jones won't tell us if Jack Nicholson is the father or not until she can't even get cast as a park statue in a Lifetime movie and has to get attention by writing the name of her son's father in her memoirs. Bitch is thinking ahead.

If you're still hungover and didn't read the headline, you're probably wondering why I posted a picture from 2004 of Portia De Rossi and Ellen DeGeneres. These two peroxide-haired beauties aren't Portia and Ellen. It's Nicole Kidman and Sun-In's most loyal customer Keith Urban kissing and loving on each other at the Cannes screening of Inside Llewyn Davis over this weekend.

I had to check to see if there's been any recent break-up rumors about these two, because why else would they canoodle on each other like two 15-year-olds whose parents just dropped them off at the school dance. Nicole and Keith's STUNT QUEEN PDA show for the photographers is cute and everything, but I want to scream at them the same thing I wanted to scream at the couple in Olive Garden who sat on the same side of the booth and kissed on each other throughout my entire meal, "You're loved-up grossness is putting me off of these delicious breadsticks."

And if I squint my eyes, Nicole sort of looks like an albino predator who's trying to swallow an angora ferret whole.

Somewhere in Hell, Lucifer is crying out "NOOOOOOO!!!!" while huddled around a space heater with his Snuggie-wearing minions, because the Ninth Circle and all of the other Circles dropped below the freezing mark when the dark orb of darkness in Posh Beckham's chest cracked open during David Beckham's last football home game with Paris Saint-Germain last night. Posh hasn't gotten this emotional since she was knocked up and gained 1/100th of a pound.

While watching her husband's team win, a single tear trickled out of Posh's eye hole and dropped down onto the ground before burning through the cement and falling through all the levels of the stadium. When her tear reached the basement, it burned through the floor, burned through all the layers of the Earth and eventually fell into a fiery pity in Hell, causing the entire underworld to freeze over. And it's all because of this:

I see his teammates came up with an excuse to touch his ass.

Shit, my no-no's shedding a tear too, because Becks retiring means that there will be less pictures of his bulge and nipples. And Becks must be shedding several tears, because now what will be his excuse to visit his side tricks in other cities?

I'm typing this from a make-shift raft made out of a door, because all of the Twihards have flooded the world with their tears after finding out that ROBSTEN ARE BROKEN (For now)!!!!!! You'd think that all of the Twihards would've cried out all the water in their bodies when Kristen Stewart did dry butt sex with Rupert Sanders, but I guess they must've replenished their fluids since then, because they are crying like they've never cried before! People (aka Voice of the Publicist Weekly) has announced that RPattz is done with smearing his hobo cheese all over Kristen Stewart's body for now. Just like KStew and RPattz, People's article about this shit is kind of awkward and wishy washy:

As rumors of relationship trouble continue to swirl, a source tells PEOPLE that Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart have called it quits after more than three years of dating. Reps for the two could not be reached.

But the source says it would not be surprising if the on-and-off-again pair got back together again.

What I'm taking that to mean is that since the final Twatlight movie is already out on DVD, their contract is expired EXPIRED and they might renegotiate..... but she's going to smoke a few bowls (or a few hundred bowls) and think about it. They'll get back together whenever one of them has some shit to promote. But right now, the only thing I care about is Nutty Madam's response to this shit:

Nutty Madam has either exploded and pieces of her are falling all over Britain right now or she's hiding in the bushes in front of RPattz's house and is ready to attack him now that he's single.

Earlier today, I wrote about how Brooke Mueller sent her lawyers to court to try to take temporary custody of her twin boys from Denise Richards and give it to her brother in Orange County. Charlie Sheen wanted Denise Richards to keep temporary custody of his kids and his lawyers argued that Brooke was only after the $55,000 a month in child support. A MESS! And when Charlie Sheen, whose brain is a pile of coke mush, comes out as a voice of reason, you know shit is a real mess.

Well, they all argued in front of a judge today and the judge told Brooke's lawyers the same thing an ATM told me when I tried to get $120 out of it the other day: "DENIED!" The judge basically told Brooke's lawyers that knitting a peen cozy out of their own pubes would've been a better use of their time than coming into court to ask for some dumb shit. A source told Radar:

“[The judge] flatly denied Mueller’s request to to have Denise stripped of temporary custody, and placed in the care of her brother in Orange County. There was absolutely no reason that could justify the move, which would only uproot the twins yet again

Brooke’s claims that Denise was only taking care of the boys for financial gain fell flat because the actress signed a sworn declaration that she had refused money from Charlie. Denise’s declaration also went on to say that she didn’t want any money EVER for her care of the boys.

Brooke just doesn’t seem to grasp the seriousness of the situation involving custody of the boys. She is used to just snapping her fingers, and having her lawyers work their magic, and make the problem go away. This isn’t being heard in family court, the fact it’s in child dependency court because of her actions is extremely serious. She should stop wasting the courts resources and focus on what is best for the boys, and not her self-interest.”

And after Brooke told her rehab mate at Betty Ford, Lindsay Lohan, about this, LiLo's mind boggled around for a few seconds before she said, "The judge denied you? They can do that?"

Some of us are looking at that picture like it's the opposite of sexy, because Katie Holmes looks like she's in the middle of taking an extended dump and just realized that there's only one wipe worth of toilet paper left. That is totally a "Do I pull up my panties and chance it or do I risk dripping on the floor by squat walking to the next bathroom?" face. But dudes on the NYC set of Katie's movie are looking at the sight of her sitting there and telling themselves that they want to see that on their toilet the morning after.

Katie and Luke Kirby are currently playing manic depressives in love in the Spike Lee-produced movie Mania Days and it's a damn miracle that they get any work done, because every dude on set keeps trying to get on her. A source tells Page Six, “There were crew members and extras just chancing it. It really got on the nerves of director Paul Dalio. Needless to say, she said no to everyone.” The source says that so far seven dudes have asked Katie out.

Katie should give her publicist a bonus for getting that little story in Page Six.

Those crew members and extras asking Katie out need to know that it takes a special kind of dude to date the former duchess of Scientology. Not just any dude can date Katie Holmes. In order to date her, you have to be okay with Suri Cruise dry heaving every time you show up to her apartment wearing sneakers you bought on clearance at Foot Locker. That's one thing you have to be okay with. You also have to be okay with dying young, because Tommy Girl will probably have you killed. If you're okay with both of those things, ask away!

Here's more pictures of Katie Holmes and Luke Kirby as manic depressives in love. I'm already learning things from this movie! I just learned that a symptom of manic depression is wearing a t-shirt with jeans.

Way before the Fastpass existed, I worked at Disneyland and my friends who worked the rides would complain to me about the fraudulent, shady whores who'd fake an injury to get to the front of the line. They'd tell me about schemers who'd roll up into the handicap line in a wheelchair and act like they had a broken ankle or some crap like that. My friends would tell me that the only thing broken on those whores were their sense of morals. While they went on and on about how disgusting those fakers were, I thought to myself, "That's actually a smart scheme." Sigourney Weaver's Heartbreakers character is one of my idols, so that explains why I have those thoughts.

Well, the New York Post says that some tour guide companies have taken that scheme to a whole new level and are renting out disabled tour guides to richies who can't be bothered with waiting in long lines at Disney World. Dr. Wednesday Martin (that's a hot name) found out about the underground network of "black market" Disney World tour guides while doing research for her book Primates of Park Avenue.

Some richies used to pay $310 to $380 an hour for a VIP guide and Fastpasses from Disney World's own tour department. But now some of those richies are paying a disabled tour guide from an outside tour company $130 an hour to pretend to be a member of their family. Disney World allows each guest who needs a wheelchair or motorized scooter to bring up to six guests with them to a special handicap entrance. Some rich Manhattan moms say that it's easier and cheaper than using a VIP guide.

Dr. Wednesday says that not everybody can call up and rent a disabled tour guide. You have to get a referral, so some Upper East Side twats see it as fucked up status symbol. Dr. Wednesday explained it to the Post:

“Who wants a speed pass when you can use your black-market handicapped guide to circumvent the lines all together? So when you’re doing it, you’re affirming that you are one of the privileged insiders who has and shares this information.”

Dream Tours Florida, one of the companies named by Manhattan richies as a provider of disabled tour guides, denied taking part in the scheme. The dude who runs the place, Ryan Clement, said that his tour guide girlfriend Jacie Christiano has an auto-immune disorder and uses a motorized scooter on the job, but that she isn't exploiting her disability for profit.

I don't know about this mess... Wouldn't the employees at Disney World realize that something in the milk wasn't clean every time Jacie rolled on in with new family members. How many times can you say, "Oh, these are my second cousins from my father's side"? But then again, I can say that truthfully since I have at least 30,000 cousins.

And this scheme is giving Pimp Mama Kris ideas. Rob Kardashian's sock line tanked and he's eating more money than he's worth, so it's only a matter of time before PMK dangles a piece of bacon at his face with one hand and Tonya Hardings him in the knee with the other. Then he can go work for Dream Tours and add something to the Kartrashian family fortune.

The Bumblebeys (yes, I get pus-filled hives on my fingers every time I type that) of Antwerp, Belgium won't be able to see their Queen of the Beyhive (there comes those hives again) make overexcited dog faces (see: the face above) in concert, because she has canceled tonight's show and she might cancel tomorrow night's show too. According to UsWeekly, Beyonce's spokeswhore tells the AP that she's come down with a serious case of the tireds and a serious case of the thirsties. Beyonce just needs to put on her restin' wig and have a seat. (Yes, some of you have been telling her to have a seat for years and she's finally answering your prayers.)

Beyonce is one month into her Mrs. Carter Show world tour and she has three more months to go. Beyonce's rep says that doctors ordered her to lie down on a pile of freshly plucked swan feathers as her minions bring her hand-carved ice balls on a gold platter. I'm really supposed to beylieve that Beyonce's doctors ordered her to rest? Beyonce probably went up to her doctors and said, "Hi, I'm Beyonce, write me a sick note now. I'm waiting, whore."

Beyonce's rep also said that Beyonce's doctors will decide soon if she's going to perform tomorrow night.

Usually when celebwhores use the "exhaustion" excuse, it means they're cracked out on crack or they don't want to tell people the real reason for why they're canceling shit. So of course this is just giving more life to the rumor that she's expecting another chosen one. If that's the case, then I totally believe that Beyonce is tired and dehydrated. Because walking around with a pillow strapped to your belly is really tiring and just thinking about it makes me thirsty for a cold pop.