Conan O'Brien ended his week of shows in NYC last night with a grand finale featuring the ginger giant with hair like a wave crashing in the sunlight officiating the wedding of his costume designer Scott Cronick and Scott's parner David Gorshein. Some cynical hos have put a STUNT QUEEN crown on Conan's head for doing this for ratings, but it looked genuine and sincere to me. I mean, don't get me wrong, it wasn't as genuine as a 10 hour-long, $15 million TV wedding shittacular between a hallow fame eater with butt meat for brains and a rock creature oaf in a tux, but it still seemed genuine to me and it's progress! Besides, Scott and David probably wanted to get married on TV, because they wanted as many eyes as possible to see their Say Yes To The Blazer ensembles. You cannot argue with this. And I've never noticed, but Conan is so damn tall that he makes everybody around him look like they came from the Shire.
Okay, maybe I have one problem with this shit. I am mad at Conan for letting an opportunity sashay by him. The opportunity I'm talking about is spelled R-O-J-O-C-A-L-I-E-N-T-E! The ratings scale would've set fight to itself just thinking about Conan, Rojo and Cynthia Nixon on the same stage together. As soon as that ginger trifecta assembled in the name of ginge gayelle love, Daylight Savings would cancel itself, winter would stay in its frozen demon hole and it would be summer for the rest of the year.
When you're breathing hot air into your palms to rub on your freezer burnt culo lips this winter, curse Conan's name as you do it.
On Sunday afternoon in the Nappy Valley (my fingers really wanted to type "Nappy" instead of "Napa" so please let me keep it), Steven Spielberg, George Lucas and Billy Crystal all watched as half-shaven silver bear Robin Williams made his graphic designer girlfriend of 2 years his third wife. All shovels stand up and salute Susan Schneider for proving that the perseverance of a late-in-life gold digger always pays off.
Page Six says that right before Robin Williams underwent heart surgery two years ago, he started giving Susan's body carpet burns by rubbing his bear rug body against hers. Susan stayed with him and nursed him back to health.
Robin's first marriage died a slow death when he down low dicked a cocktail waitress. Robin's second marriage ended up in a shallow grave after he allegedly dow low dicked another trick. So I'm sure history is just history and Robin will not cum hairy sperm balls on another woman's chest. To be sure, Susan should only let Robin hang out with women who are allergic to cats since he's so damn hairy that I'm sure he sheds dander.
Here's Robin and his new wife Susan entertaining Paris with a kiss and ass show while on their honeymoon yesterday. Being around spastic Robin all of the time is probably as frustrating and annoying as trying to scissor a lesbian in a Smart Car, so I'm sure this time next year we'll see pictures of Susan making out with a Valium bottle and lifting her skirt to get a Xanax injection in the butt.
Carrying a bouquet of peach pits and wearing a garter belt made of Kelly Taylor's dried lonely tears, Shannen Doherty became a wife for the third time yesterday when she married a dude who looks like a community college English teacher that always keeps wet-look gel and a bottle of Preferred Stock in his desk drawer. Since Shannen is TV bitch royalty and we need an exquisite wedding of taste to cleanse our retinas of the thick layer of skank piss left by the Kuntrashian wedding, her glide down the aisle was shot for her new reality show. People has all the little details you really don't care about. Seriously, did Shannen wear a re-worked version of Brenda's prom dress and did she sing "It's My Party" at the reception? That's the shit we want to know!
The TV actress, 40, who most notably played Brenda Walsh, said "I do" to her fiancé Kurt Iswarienko at sunset, PEOPLE has confirmed.
The black-tie affair took place at a private estate nestled in the hills.
The nuptials reportedly are airing on the season finale of Doherty and her new hubby's upcoming WEtv reality series about planning for the big day.
Shannen was married to George Hamilton's son for a quick second, but their love died after they unleashed the crazy on their house and destroyed it. Shannen then married Rick Salomon and they were together for at least two seconds before he went on to do Lucifer's evil work by making the dead fish equivalent of a sex tape with Parasite Hilton. So hopefully Shannen's third marriage doesn't end with an eviction notice or a fuck tape that doubles as a terrorist threat. I'm sure this one will stick! Shannen is all grown up now and way more educated thanks to Education Connection!
On what would've been John Lennon's 71st birthday, Paul McCartney threw himself into the marriage thing again by making the serious businesswoman daughter of a New Jersey shipping magnate (Daughter of a New Jersey Shipping Magnate should really be a band name) his third wife in London. 69-year-old Paul and 51-year-old Nancy Shevell said "until the cunt wrath of Heather Mills" does us part in front of guests including her cousin Barbara Walters and Ringo Starr at the Old Marylebone Town Hall, the same place where he married his first wife Linda in the 60s. Well, maybe he got married there again because they waived his marriage license fee since he's a returning customer.
Both Nancy and Paul wore outfits made by his daughter Stella McCartney. Paul and Heather's daughter Beatrice was the flower girl and he gave his new wife Nancy a fancy 5-carat diamond wedding band by Neil Lane. People says that after the wedding, everyone went back to Paul's mansion to slurp on vegan food as they nervously looked for Heather Mills to fly in on a broom that doubles as her other leg.
You know, Nancy and Paul look so happy that they could fart out heart-shaped clouds (and since they're eating vegan food, they probably will) and she has enough money to bathe in hundred dollar bills every night so I doubt she's putting her shovel under his fortune, but I just can't get into them. They are so damn boring! Nancy is the human equivalent of a Kate Middleton yawn. Just look at those shoes. Those shoes are straight out of the memaw of the bride collection at Payless. If Nancy was a toddler getting her First Communion, then wearing those shoes would've been okay.
I mean, if this was Heather Mills' wedding, she would've already karate-pegged a bitch for throwing petals instead of money and she definitely would've ripped off the head of a white to dove to pour its blood on the paparazzi. Those were the days. As boring as they are, I'm sure Nancy and Paul will last FOREVER! But mainly because Nancy is going to do whatever she can to NOT join Heather Mills in The Paul McCartney's Ex-Wives Club.
Duchess Kate is ripping out whatever hair is left on her husband's head this morning, because her reign as the most famous royal bride of the year came to a crashing end as soon as the mummified Rhea Perlman who was brought back to life with an air kiss from Voldemort floated above a dirt aisle at her wedding in Sevilla, Spain today. Fuck your life, Kate, because today the Duchess of Alba got all the points by wearing a stunning gown made by Chico himself using her crib skirt from the turn-of-the-century and the green ribbon she snatched out of Luke's hand right before she turned him into a mouse. The Duchess of Alba's guests would've gasped but they were told to keep their mouths closed for the entire ceremony, because there was a good chance she would've transformed into a funnel of smoke and entered their body to eat their souls from the inside/out.
HOLA! Magazine is pleased to report that 85-year-old (suck in your eyeballs for 5 seconds.... and release)
María del Rosario Cayetana Paloma Alfonsa Victoria Eugenia Fernanda Teresa Francisca de Paula Lourdes Antonia Josefa Fausta Rita Castor Dorotea Santa Esperanza Fitz-James Stuart, Silva, Falcó y Gurtubay
became (suck in your eyeballs for 6 seconds.... and release)
María del Rosario Cayetana Paloma Alfonsa Victoria Eugenia Fernanda Teresa Francisca de Paula Lourdes Antonia Josefa Fausta Rita Castor Dorotea Santa Esperanza Fitz-James Stuart, Silva, Falcó y Gurtubay Diez
today when she married her 61-year-old commoner love toy Alfonso Diez at one of her castles in Spain in front of almost all of her six ungrateful children (her ungrateful bitch of a daughter came down with chickenpox so she couldn't make it). These are the same ungrateful bitch children who would not bless the Duchess of Alba's marriage until she gave them all of her billion dollar fortune to prove to them that Alfonso was not marrying her for money. Alfonso was obviously marrying the glorious duchess, because when the rapture comes next year the great swarm of locusts will not come near him if he's standing behind their queen! But those dumb children did not know this.
Alfonso, who is now known as the Duke of Alba, already signed away any right to the House of Alba should his beautiful love affair with the duchess end. But for now, the Duchess of Alba kicked off her sensible Easy Spirit flats and danced in the streets to celebrate the gods accepting her love with Alfonso. Did that bland bitch Kate Middleton do that? I think not.
Congratulations to the most regal dandelion in the royal garden and allow me to end this post with these words for the duchess:
De mayo de Alfonso Diez suavemente la joroba del brillante polvo zombie de por eternidades, o hasta que la tierra Klingons en la tierra para volver a su planeta de origen. A ustedes, mis BELLEZA! Ahora, conseguir que los jóvenes polla!
And in case you're not fluent in Google Español :
May Alfonso Diez gently hump the sparkly zombie dust out of you for eternities to come or until the Klingons land on earth to take you back to your home planet. TO YOU, MY BEAUTY! Now, get that young dick!
After 28 years together and hundreds of nights of Gene Simmons coming home with his tongue covered in the crotch sludge of one of his side pieces, he and Shannon Tweed have gotten themselves married. In a ceremony at the Beverly Hills Hotel that was probably more awkward than their interview on Joy Behar, Gene promised to love and to cherish Shannon in sickness and in health until death do them part or until she finally snaps by pulling an Elin Nordegren when her man whore husband gives her crabs again.
The most tragic thing in the world besides a groupie slut willing to wrap her ass tunnel around Gene's tongue is a 54-year-old Shannon Tweed getting crabs the "non fun" way. People has all the details you care about (you don't care about these details) Gene and Shannon's late-in-life wedding:
Tweed, 54, walked down the aisle in an ivory Priscilla of Boston gown – one of three dresses she chose for the big occasion – and carried a bouquet of ivory garden roses.
The couple exchanged vows they wrote themselves in front of 400 guests including Hugh Hefner, Bill Maher and his fellow KISS members (Paul Stanley was in the wedding party). The wedding will appear in the new season of Gene Simmons Family Jewels on Oct. 18.
Also in attendance were the couple's two children Nick, 22, and Sophie, 19, who was the maid of honor.
From watching a few episodes of Family Jewels (which I ONLY watch because Nick Simmons does things to me) I've learned that Shannon and Gene's relationship is not as sturdy solid as the King Tut headdress of gorilla fur around Gene's face. But maybe Gene's just playing the role of a "geezer skank asshole who only cares about where his next piece of coochie is coming from" for maximum dramatic effect. Whatever the case may be, I hope this marriage lasts for eternity. And by "eternity" I mean until their reality show needs a ratings pick-me up in the form of a very special divorce episode.
Detective La Toya Jackson's long lost son (HE WISHES!) Cheyenne Jackson, who your eyeballs might have fallen on during 30 Rock, Glee or Xanadu: The Musical, married his physicist piece of 11 years Monte Lapka on a beach in New York yesterday. Cheyenne let their dog Zora know that she's no longer going to get "you bastard out of Gayolina" eyes of judgement from the religious bitches at the dog park when he Tweeted this after the wedding:
It's official, after 11 years together, Zora's no longer a bastard. Married the best man I've ever known.
Congratulations to Cheyenne Jackson and the dude who looks like he spends precious hours meticulously manicuring his sharp as fuck beard with a protractor, pinky shears and a picture of Norwood Young's hairline as inspiration. Also congratulations to white button down shirts and white pants. You're no longer mostly known as the ensemble of choice for boy bands of the 90s and Christian family portrait sessions. You're now known as the ensemble of choice for gay beach weddings. UPGRADE!
The South of France was turned into a walking Anthropologie catalog yesterday when Mark Ronson married French model type Josephine de la Baume in Aix en Provence in front of guests including Lily Allen, Kate Moss and one of his sisters Charlotte Ronson. No word if SamRo was able to pry Lindsay Lohan's leech lips off of her taint so she could get on a plane to France. But I'm sure if SamRo was not able to make it, Mark put a fedora on a Sam the Eagle puppet parked in front of an iPod so it felt like she was right there with them. And I'm sure the Sam the Eagle puppet played better music too.
Mark wore the Good Humor Man's first Sunday church outfit and that Josephine trick wore something she pulled out of Joan Holloway's wicker dirty laundry basket. A source tells UsWeekly that during the reception, Mark paid tribute to his friend Amy Winehouse by toasting to her (with a plastic flute full of melted ice pops and ballet slipper smegma, of course). Then he really paid tribute to her by making all his guests crawl on the floor to sneakily steal drinks off of each other's tables. It's the new wedding tradition of choice!
Today true love is not knowing what your new husband's retinas look like since his ass never takes off his fucking Wayfarers.
As Urinal Kake Kardashian initiated Kris Humphries into the Kardashian Kult chapter of the Illuminati by pulling his heart out with her teeth and offering it as a sacrifice to the devils, country singer and blind item star Chely Wright married her piece Lauren Blitzer in Connecticut.
Chely tells People that they married at Lauren's auntie's house and chose to keep veils off of their heads because they didn't want to fuck up their mops. Chely is a Christian and Lauren is Jewish, so a rabbi and a minister worked together to bond the two in gayelle matrimony. Chely said this to People about her new wife:
"The freedom of being out and open about who I am allowed me to find and fall in love with Lauren – the most amazing woman I've ever known."
Never mind that Chely and Lauren's wedding picture looks like one of my friends trying to talk a tanked me from the edge of letting out a drunk barf in the middle of the bar, this is wonderful news for one important reason. The reason being that maybe this will inspire Rojo Caliente and Cynthia Nixon to make the gayngels cry flannel tears by getting married STAT.
And John Rich now knows the reason why every single one of his credit cards got declined at Home Depot yesterday. Don't fuck with the gayelles!
No, this is not a page from the "Buy 1 Get 1 Free" clearance section of a Russian brides catalog that caters to gerontophile gentlemen who are in the market for a pre-owned model. This is Lindsay Lohan (on the left) and White Oprah (on the right) looking like if Jerri Blank brought Aunt Magda as her date to her winter formal. If Florida public access did a low-budget version of The Real Housewives of Boca, this is what it would look like.
Blohan and White Oprah peeled themselves out from under the heat lamp on the Sizzler buffet line and Crisco-ed themselves into the finest gowns from Frederick's to watch Kim Kardashian make a Geico caveman her second husband (and counting). Kim's invitation said that all hos must only wear black and/or white, so it's not like Blohan tried to hump the spotlight away from the bride. I wouldn't put it past her, but she had more important things to worry about. Like trying to sneak as many centerpieces into the trunk of her car so she can sell them later on eBay.
To see more priceless and coked up pictures of the Orange Chicken Sisters, click over to ONTD or Gossip Center. Those who don't already know will probably spend a few minutes trying to figure out which one came out of the other one's vagina. They're both on the wrong side of 48. But my favorite part of those pictures isn't that they both have the complexion of a chicharone. It's that they both obviously looked into the mirror of delusion and said at the same time, "Damn, bitch, we're going to make dicks rise tonight!"
Here's more pictures from Kim's second pre-divorce ceremony of her bridesmaids, Gaycrest, Julianne Hough, Brody Jenner and Avril Lavigne. This mess looks like one of Charlie Chaplin's black & white bowel movements.