Squinty Zellweger not only resembles a lemon-sucking blonde version of Liza Minnelli, but apparently she's got the same thirst for (allegedly) gay husbands. See Kenny Chesney.
Page Six seems to think that Squinty is planning on marrying her Bradley Cooper, because she went wedding dress shopping at Carolina Herrera in West Hollywood last week. A witness type said that she looked at dresses for nearly two hours, and coyly smiled whenever someone asked her if she was getting hitched. Squints left with a garment bag in hand.
Squints is going for some kind of professional fag hag record! Maybe she actually likes spending her wedding night nibbling on a piece of cake in the corner of her suite while listening to her new husband sloppily eating another dude's ass in the next room? Or maybe she just likes weddings. And the best way to party at a wedding is to do it next to a gay!
While a straight man might roll his eyes or let out a mouth fart when they release the white doves into the sky, a gay's heart will flutters right next to yours. And while a straight dude might not give a fuck what you look like during the reception as long your ass puts out that night, a gay will make sure you look like elegant perfection from top to bottom at all times! So I get it, Squints. I get it.
Here's B.Coop and his Pledge-scented beard going to lunch with their parents in NYC yesterday.
Tommy Girl gushing from every single orifice about the man whose face is on the body pillow he cuddles and humps on nightly:
"I really admire David Beckham as a person, father, husband and athlete. He's absolutely fantastic. He's got a great competitive spirit and he's a tireless worker with a clear mind and a solid body."
How many times do you think his mouth slobbered while he was saying that? And I'm not talking about the mouth on his face.
via 3am (Thanks Jessica)
Evan Likesdadick tells Radar that he's in the market for a brand new girlfriend to keep him company. Well, Sex and the City 2 is coming out this weekend and nobody wants Evan to coo at Jason Lewis' nipples by himself, so he better get on that shit. Evan says:
"I'm lonely. I need a girlfriend. I’m looking for funny, someone who can deal with a busy schedule—which has been a problem in the past. And I don't know, just a cool girl. I need someone to hang out with me.”
That sound you just heard was Johnny Weir's glitter hole spitting sparkles into his fur panties after reading Evan's mess of a quote.
(Image via Warren and Derrick)
Performance fartist, Yale student and sometimes actor James Franco refused to answer a question regarding his sexuality at a Q&A for his documentary Saturday Night at the Tribeca Film Festival. Bitch dodged that shit like he was Vanilla and the question was a yarmulke.
Apparently, some nosy ass ho in the audience asked James about a dude-on-dude kiss he shared with Will Forte on SNL. James' publicist shot the question down and told James to keep all his lips shut.
A witness tells Gatecrasher, "One of the guests asked James a few things that alluded to his sexuality. Franco's rep stopped him from answering, and the crowd got really uncomfortable."
The witness says that James later laughed about it with Will while they took pictures of themselves at the after-party, "And then James turned to Will and joked, ‘Uh-oh, this one is going to make people talk!' Will even told a passerby, 'James is a very passionate kisser!'"
How rude and disrespectful of that bitch to ask James such a personal question! If James prefers the cock to the cooch (or vice versa), it's still not going to stop hos from massaging their fuck parts to his movies.
That dumb bitch should've asked something more important like: "James, is your peen shaped more like a burrito, a taquito or a churro?"
Or: "James, can you please show us the face you make when you're about to nud all over a pair of succulent ass cheeks? Oh, and can you scream 'Here comes the fiesta, bitch!' right before you make that face? Thanks."
Those are the kind of questions that will further our cause. Not the stupid gay question. I swear, some people are so fucking tacky.
I finally know why Lady Gaga exists! She was put on this planet to write "Telephone" and record it so that these U.S. soldiers stationed in Afghanistan could spread the glitter to it in the video above.
My favorite is the ginger thrusting his everything like he's trying to woo Bin Laden out of a cave. That ginge is the REAL Sexual Napalm. Boom.
And it's all fun and sparkles until they all get DISCHARGED. I'm joking. If anything, they should all get ranked up for this.
UPDATE: They got shy and made the video private, but you can watch it over at Gawker.
via The Daily What
It's always a tragic day when a drunk fly flitters away from her juicy and honeyed fruit friend. People confirms that the original Lindsay Lohan known as Tara Reid has canceled her engagement to internet entrepreneur Michael Axtmann (that's "Michael Assmann" if you keep a bottle of lube in your medicine cabinet).
Do you hear that "ding ding ding" sound? It's the sound of a dozen blind items finding their answers. It's also the sound of a hundred glazed b-holes clapping at the thought of Michael Assman's return to the grand party.
Tara didn't given an explanation as to why the wedding was called off when she released this little statement of words (read it in a vommy slur to get the full effect): "Tara Reid has confirmed that she will not be moving forward with her May 22 nuptials."
I had high hopes for these two. With his nipple-twerking brows of glamour and her allergic reaction to dignity, they could've taken every gay club from here to Eyjafjallajokull BY FIRESTORM!
And a little fact for a Wednesday morning: "Eyjafjallajokull" is also the original statement Tara typed out to People before one of her sober friends translated it.
When Kenny Chesney and Squinty Zellweger quit each other after only 4-months of marriage, they cited "fraud" as the official reason for their annulment. Everybody figured "fraud" was just a legal word for "Renee has a vagina." For the first time since their split, Kenny spoke to Oprah (via Toronto Sun) about why their marriage didn't work out. It's because Kenny's box was way too full! Power bottoms and their problems!
Kenny, who is tangier than a rack of honey barbecued pork ribs, said, "I look at it as a box, my life as a box... so everything that I put in ... learning how to play guitar - put in that box, friends I made - I put in that box. My career grew and everything around me, all the awards and all the songs I wrote and all the success, everything, I put in that box. And that box grew to this wonderful house. You protect everything and all the relationships and all the people that helped you build that house... I protected that box and I didn't know if I could do both. She was a sweet soul, no doubt about it."
Kenny and his damn box. All he had to say was that Squinty didn't know how to make his box burst (aka bitch's strap-on skills are whack), which is why he shaved her off and sent her back to the barber shop. And speaking of hot boxes....
While I was looking for pictures of Squinty, I came across this piping hot piece who is speaking my language:
As if the pictures of the Jersey Shore whores filming in Miami aren't homoerotic enough, here's Ronnie looking like he's biting through the ecstatic pain while getting his butt bone pounded by a friend. From the department of "Face down, ass up, broke down!" Yes, that Kiely Williams song is still overstaying its welcome in my head.
The truth is, Ronnie was getting a tattoo on his down low area while his castmates watched. I'm sure Ronnie got something totally macho and masculine like a tattoo of the phrase "FIST PUMPIN" on his ass cheek.
The Crystal Enchantress of the Ice took a little time out from romancing his foot massager to shoot the glitter with Chelsea Handler last night. After Johnny admitted that he's not exactly skipping through lavender fields with his arch rival Evan Lysacek, he insinuated that Lysacek likes the dick by throwing a big wink at Chelsea.
It's fitting that Johnny said it with a wink, because my no-no winks, too, at the mention of Evan Lysacek's name. Clip beeeelow:
Remember this headline from last year: "Pink-Clad Pooch Stolen from Gay Bar by Man With Britney Tattoo"? How could you forget? The taste of strawberry lube hasn't left your mouth since and the color pink has dimmed its shine in honor of the pink-clad pooch. Well, your no-no can exhale soon, because the alleged poochnapper has been caught!
Last July, Hudson Hayward Hemingway was stolen from a gay bar called Georgie's Alibi in Ft. Lauderdale, FL by an evil ho with a Britney Spears tattoo. Triple H's owner Brian Dortort begged for his safe return. The Sun-Sentinel reports that the police in Florida followed the pink rainbow from Triple H's glitter-hole and it led them all the way to Northampton County, Pennsylvania. That's where the alleged dognapper lives.
34-year-old Channing Reynolds was taken into custody on related charges (yes, I lied about the pink rainbow thing) in Pennsylvania, and a warrant search showed that he was wanted in Florida. Channing will be extradited to Florida this week to face a grand theft charge. If found guilty, Channing will never ever be allowed to upload a video of him dancing around to a Britney song AGAIN. To a gay Britney fan, that's pretty much the equivalent of life in a prison without the possibility of parole.
The Sentinel caught up with Brian at his place of business called (pinch your nipples for this one) Bottoms & Tops. They let him know that Triple H's captor has been arrested. Brian wasn't exactly queefing out disco balls over the news, because he has since replaced Triple H with Hudson Hayward Hemingway II. Apparently, Triple H Jr. doesn't throw as many theatrical cunt fits as his namesake. How soon those queens forget!
Unfortunately, police still haven't located Triple H, but they are hoping Channing Reynolds spills the anal beads on his whereabouts.
This story just keeps giving on giving. Just when you think it maxed out on the gay scale, we find out that Triple H's owner works at BOTTOMS & TOPS! There ain't no stopping us now. Fred Phelps just raised a pink flag and screamed, "We surrender!"