Ginge Beauties

No, this isn't a newly found still from Julia Roberts' screen test for Splash. This is Shaun White dressed in drag as The Little Mermaid.  The only thing that can top Carrot Bottom is anything that's 7 inches or more is The Flying Tomato dressed up as Ariel for Halloqueen. You can tell Shauna White is all about this and I'm sure his back door ginger star fish is tingling something extra. You all should take the rest of the day off so you can go home and be left alone with your emotions.

via Buzzfeed

I hate myself for a lot of headlines, but I really hate myself for that headline.

Three seconds ago, Taylor Swift was going from Barnes & Noble to Barnes & Noble, stuffing her head shot and bio into every copy of The Kennedy Women, because what she wanted more than anything in the world, besides a white pony with heart-shaped pupils, was to become a Kennedy. But now, the bitch is over it. Conor Kennedy dumped her Taylor, because she kept showing up to his homeroom wearing a replica of Jackie Kennedy's wedding dress. Taylor Kennedy spent a whole day crying into the fire as she burned the towels and sheets she had monogrammed with the initials TK, but she's done crying over a Kennedy and has already moved on to a new piece.

The Daily Mirror (I know, I know) says that fast-moving tramp trollop is now wrapping her heart around British singer/songwriter type Ed Sheeran. Taylor and Ed worked on a song together for her album Period, which proved that talking shit about your exes in sing song form is a money maker, and he's going on tour with her next year. Some source said that Taylor and Ed are getting really close and they're getting so close that he tattooed the word RED on his arm. Normally, I'd think that getting anything Taylor Swift-related tattooed on your body is like begging your family to 5150 your crazy ass,  but Ed's tattoo isn't that big of a deal. Ed can change it to REDRUM when she eventually breaks up with him, because she needs new inspiration and has to move on to the next trick.

Taylor Swift was hard up on getting in with the Kennedys and now it looks like she's hard up on getting in with the ginger Hobbits. Tramp is trying to get into the Shire. If Taylor really wants in, she better move slow, because ginger Hobbits hate it when you make sudden, quick moves. It makes them scatter down into their hobbit-holes. Taylor better not screw this one up by trying to marry him in his sleep, because this one is a keeper. I'm only saying that, because if you smear actual raw ginger over your eyeballs and squint, he kind of sort of looks like the angel goddess of gingers Rojo Caliente.

See if you can tell the difference between the two. If you can't tell the difference, then please run to your nearest church, throw yourself on the altar and beg God to forgive you for not recognizing his greatest creation.

I'm in L.A. and:

- It's only 7:15 in the morning and it's already so damn warm that I can run down the side of the freeway with nothing but ass lip mittens on.

- I'm so going to make french toast out of a Double Double and chutney out of off-ramp oranges for breakfast.

- And I've already been baptized as a born again citizen of Southern California by getting flipped off and called something that starts with an "f" (I'm thinking he called me a "funtabulous rascal," but I'm pretty sure he called me a "fucking asshole") when I tried to cut a Yaris off while driving out of the airport.

So, you'd think because of all of that I'd be spitting out smoggy rainbows of happiness. Well, I was until I saw these pictures that reminded me one very, VERY, very important thing: THERE'S NO ROJO CALIENTE IN LOS ANGELES! I was so blinded by the shine of weed cards and Jack In The Box dollar tacos that I completely forgot about this. Why didn't any of you bitches remind me! Sure, I can troll the aisles of some Home Depot, find a fat chola butchie and ask her to please put an orange Tupperware bowl on her head so I won't be so gingersick, but it won't be the same. WHAT HAVE I DONE? We have to go back, Kate! We have to go back to the island!

And these pictures of Cynthia Nixon, Rojo and Little Rojo Christ strolling around NYC were taken in the middle of the night. Yes, the curly rays of sun on Little Rojo Christ's head are that illuminating.

Monday has happened to all of us again and some of you are sitting in your cubicle prison looking for a reason to go on. Well, stop making a noose out of paper clips, because there is a reason to go on now that international supermodel and Hot Babe forever, Phoebe Price, is taking her signature pose game across state lines! Everybody on television keeps telling my ass that NYC is going to be hotter than a freckle on a ginger cat's pussy today and now I know why. The heat is rising from the piping hot poses Chicken Cutlets threw down in Miami yesterday afternoon.

Looking like a photo shoot for Chickens Magazine: Swimsuit Edition, PP posed for the paps despite the fact that a flock of raver birds died on her ginger mane after crashing into the side of her head. Glamour doesn't stop for bird carcasses clinging to your weave. I checked CNN and they haven't yet reported on why Chicken Cutlets is in Florida, but I'm guessing she's there on a goodwill mission as the official Ambassador of the Ho Stroll. Oh Florida, you just keep finding new ways to keep your title as the fuckery capital of the world.

You'd think I'd be all into the WWE since they're in the business of serving up drama queen theatrics, staged cat fights, man nipple-to-man nipple action and Spandex-swathed crotches, but I'm not. So this is the time first that my retinas have been singed by the glorious ginger god from Ireland Sheamus! (My ho stroll nickname is Shame Ass. It's meant to be!)

The only thing I know about Sheamus is that he body slammed a trick at the WWE Smack Down in Dublin last night, has epic thighs that look like a whole chicken getting pulled out of a can, can make lighting by clapping his ass cheeks (I read this in the mythology section of Wiki), can keep a small village warm with the flaming hearth on his head and when he flutters his eyelashes it looks like two fireflies dancing in the night. I know that last part, because I made a flip book with these pictures. Yes, that's Sheamus' cue to head directly to the restraining order office.

And to answer your question, yes, I already Photoshopped my smiling face and gut on this picture.

So that's why it's almost like summer in NYC. It's isn't from global warming (it's totally from global warming)! It's because the apparent heir to the American ginger throne, 1-year-old Max Ellington Nixon-Marinoni (Prince MEN-M) is heating up the sidewalks with the curly halo of flames on his head. No, Cynthia Nixon's hair didn't burn off from being that close to Max's short fro of sparks. Cynthia shaved it all off to do Wit on Broadway.

The rapture has been re-scheduled for a later date, because the world can't end now that a miniature Rojo is here. Prince Max saved us all!!! (See also: ginger babies are the best.)

Here's Prince Hot Ginge making what some would call the "Ginge on a Cross" or "King of the Ginges" pose, but what I call the "imaginary blowjob and double finger bang" pose, because I'm romantic like that. PHG stretched and flexed with Olympic gold medalist Usain Bolt in Jamaica this morning as part of his royal tour to up the production of panty pudding in the Caribbean.

You know, earlier I was at my favorite place on the Internet, The Daily Fuckery, and read some of the comments people made about this blessed event. A few people said that PHG is nothing but a ginger-crusted scab who gets paid to pose in silly photo-ops while they're slaving away in front of the broiler making meat pies out of human flesh to pay their rent! (Everything I know about the British economy, I learned from Sweeney Todd.) Those people are so off base that they're licking dirty jockstraps in the dugout with the Kardashians. PHG is doing the work of a saint. Every nation deserves to know what it feels like to quiver in the loins at the sight of PHG sucking off an invisible peen made from the same air they're breathing. It's life-changing. If I didn't already think Phoebe Price is the Mother Teresa of gingers, I'd say PHG is.

I would write more slobbery words pulled from my ass about PHG, but these pictures and I have a date with Photoshop.

Last night this picture of Rupert Grint allegedly starring in a one-ginge version of The Sorcerer's Stoned (or Chambers of Sassafras, or Order of the Bong, etc...) at a Harry Potter cast party went around and some are saying it's a look-alike and others are adding this to the reasons why they get a heart-on for Ron Weasley. The Study of Rupert Grint's Facial Features class starts as the same time as my Sketching DanRad's Dick class, so I lack the expertise needed to make a qualified decision.

Either way, this picture is still a gift, because it has a mop of ginger, a bong and arm muscles that look like hard ass cheeks. At least, I see a pair of hard ass cheeks when I look at his arm muscles, but that could be the contact high typing.

Source: Stupid Celebrities via ONTD

That's if you're not already on the floor from "stop, drop and rolling" after being hit by a flaming ball of scorching hot loveliness flying out off of the tips of Rojo Caliente's delicate eyelashes. Just when I thought another weekend was going to roll by without being blessed by rays from the gayelle sun, these pictures bear hugged my eyeballs and gave me a reason to go on. Because we all know that Rojo Caliente is the cure for the common everything! This is totally me right now.

Here we have the always beautiful human soul defibrillator and her queen holding court at the Royal Home Depot Ball in Vermont yesterday. No, they are really at the Susan G. Komen Global Awards at the Kennedy Center in DC last night. The new Goddess of Fire looked beautifully handsome in another handmade, one-of-a-kind tuxedo from Men's Warehouse exclusive "Sharp As All Fuck" collection. And only Cynthia Nixon can pull off a gown made from bed sheets charred by Rojo's touch.

How those men behind Rojo and Mrs. Rojo can just sit there like nothing is beyond me. This is some "get on your knees and worship until you pass out" shit.

True fact: That is not a light behind Olympic gold medalist Shaun White. That's the bright beam of light that radiates off of his ginger fall of follicles. If you're ever caught in a blackout, make sure Shauna White is with you. Not only will he light the room, but if you pull your top up, his ginger fire will warm the nip out of your nipples.

So how does Shaun White keep his hair Rojo Caliente fresh? People asked the US snowboarder this majorly importante question, and he answered:

“My secret is an awesome new product – called water. It’s pretty curly on its own. I just use the hotel shampoo and conditioner and wash it every other day, because otherwise it gets huge. Two days of snowboarding in a helmet helps — it looks better dirtier.”

Shampoo and water? Uh huh. Translation: Shaun's beauty secret is just that.....A SECRET! You know Shaun marinates his hair in a bowl of saffron water every night and sleeps with a cap full of chili oil and hot sauce. We know the ginge truth!