Mariah Carey

Ryan Seacrest is having himself a midget boy pout party right now, because FOX had to cut his high heels and highlights budget now that they're slipping over $12 million into Mimi's pink diamond-encrusted Lisa Frank fanny pack to replace JLo on American Idol next season. The good news for fans of foolery was announced at the TV Critics Association Summer Press tour in Beverly Hills as a herd of lambs let out thousands of heart-shaped queefs of happiness. Mimi wasn't at the Summer Press tour today, but while lounging in a Hello Kitty bathtub, she called in and said in so many words that she can't wait to deposit that check into her account. via TVLine:

“I am so excited to be joining Idol. I wanted to be there today and I wish I could have been there myself to tell you. I can’t wait to get started in a couple months.”

Nothing can replace Paula Abdul barfing up jumbled critiques while trying to keep herself from coughing up pieces of Vicodin pills, but Mimi will come close to topping that crazy. I can't believe I'm typing this in the year 2012, but I'm actually looking forward to watching American Idol next season. There's something wrong there. Now FOX just needs to get Aretha Franklin, so we can all bow down to the three queens (Mimi, Aretha and Gaycrest) of primetime shit shows.

"I'm really going to miss.... I'm really going to miss.... all that monaaaaaaaywaaaah!" is what was going through JLo's head this morning when she called into Ryan Seacrest's radio show and faked a tearful voice to tell him that the middle chair at the American Idol judge's table no longer needs two seats to fit her football field ass. JLo is following Steven Tyler out the exit door and won't be back next season to judge tricks whose burps are more pleasant to the ear than her natural singing voice. Cut to Randy Jackson changing his cell phone number, putting his home phone off the hook and praying that he won't get fired, because the producers forgot that he still exists.

JLo told Ryan that she's just way too busy terrorizing the music industry, the movie industry, the fashion industry, the Dragon Tales twins and she just doesn't have time to terrorize TV audiences too. There's so many things that JLo wants to do and the show that successfully gave her dying career mouth-to-mouth is not one of them.

As for JLo's replacement, the producers could replace her with a single Jell-O Jiggler and it would be an upgrade, but People says that lamb herder and Hello Kitty's adoptive mother Mimi is in serious talks.

And any post that has the names "Mimi" and "JLo" in it, isn't complete without this:

If Mimi takes the job (she probably won't), she better ride in on glitter-covered unicorn and say, "I am so happy to collect millions upon millions of dollars by replacing I Don't Know Her."

While most singers try to sing from their diaphragm, Mimi goes way deep and sings from her coochie. Now, that is how it's done! During the closing concert at the Ischgl ski resort in Austria yesterday, Mimi prepared to let out a 32 octave butterfly yodel by breathing in so hard that her Spandex ski pants practically polished her damn cervix. Mimi's poon will be spitting out Spandex for days! I refuse to call it a camel toe, because Mimi doesn't do camels, darlings. It's more like a lamb toe. Hell, it's the whole damn lamb's foot! It also looks like a unicorn putting its hooves together to pray, and two butterfly cocoons hanging next to each other, and Homer Simpson with red lipstick on, and a fortune cookie molded from Play-Doh. Basically, Mimi's cooze flaps look like everything. Who knew that Mimi has the Rorschach test of pussy lips?

Even though Mimi's got an entire stampede up in her pants and her coochie could be a star in the world of competitive pants-eating, CoCo is still the Queen of Camel Toes. I mean, who would you put money on in a camel toe wrestling match? Exactly.

Looking like my third favorite Wuzzle after Hoppopotamus and Butterbear, Mimi wobbled out of Gotham Hall in NYC last night after hollerin' out her butterfly yodel for the first time since she birthed out Baby Lohan (haven't you heard that Lohan is the new Monroe) and Baby Couscous. Mimi's quest to look as damn helpless as possible continued last night when she messed with her vision by putting on sunglasses with lenses the size of pancake nipples and wore a Divine dress that was so tight all the blood in her body pushed down to her ankles, making her almost immobile. That's just the way Mimi loves it, because she needed the help of two grown men to guide her down an extremely steep and dangerous 6-inch high curb.

Of course, Mimi is the delicate and fragile one even though her husband Nick Cannon is suffering from the sicks. Nick told People the other night that the "mild" kidney fail he suffered from earlier this year was the result of an autoimmune disease that doctors found in his system.

"They kind of say [my] autoimmune [disease] is – like a lupus type of thing, but no one else in my family has it. I feel blessed to be alive. If it wasn't discovered, I don't know [what would have happened]."

Thank the Butterfly Rainbow Unicorn Glitter Queef Sanrio Surprise Gods that doctors discovered Nick's disease and are treating it so he doesn't end up laid up in the hospital again. Not because I care about Nick's health or anything, but because I care about Mimi's delicate nature. If Nick wasn't well enough to help her down the damn curb, she'd still be standing on the sidewalk aimlessly waiting for a save-a-ho hand to guide her to safety. Thinking she's Blanche DuBois and shit.

Apparently, there's such a thing as a mild case of kidney failure and Nick Cannon's got it. I guess Nick's kidney hasn't completely went the way of his music career (aka died a fast death), but it's just lying there, paralyzed and has temporarily forgotten how to form emotions. Sort of like Mimi's twins when they glance at this portrait hanging over her Hello Kitty bathtub.

Nick had a kidney situation while the two were spreading their cheese in Aspen (see the foolery below) and is now laid up in a hospital bed. And in true Mimi fashion, she jumped into the hospital bed and forced some tortured nurse to take a picture for her Twitter followers. That nurse now knows how to take a picture while trying hard to control her eyeballs from instinctively rolling out of their sockets. Mimi posted this long ass message with the precious portrait:

Please pray for Nick as he's fighting to recover from a mild kidney failure.

This is us in the hospital - role reversal; Last year it was me attached to the machines (after having dembabies) and Nick was there with me through it, and now here we are.

We're trying to be as festive as possible under the circumstances but please keep Nick in your thoughts because this is very painful. They tried to kick me out of the hospital but here I am pon de bed with Mr. C.

We're doing OK but we're "straaaaaanded in Aspen". #DramaticDivaPlace (I know, we could be in a lot worse places) but the truth is as long as we're together, we're OK. I'm not trying to make light out of the situation because it's a serious moment that's very tough on all of us so please keep us and our family in your prayers. LYM.

Nick must have the sicks in a serious way, because his facial expression is brought to us by the letters FML. Or maybe Nick's feeling the pain inside something extra, because his kidney has more than mildly failed after Mimi put that assholian hat on his head for this picture. It'll be okay. That bitch Kero Kero Keroppi owes Mimi, so I'm sure he's good for a kidney.

In 1994, two things happened: Mimi released the Christmas song that will be played in every single store from October to January for centuries to come, and a surrogate Canadian beaver gave birth to Usher's daughter. Cut to 17 years later, those two things have come together to turn your eardrums into wet coal. The rotten eggnog of a video for Justin Bieber and Mimi's remix of "All I Want For Christmas Is You" is pretty much just a shameless commercial for Macy's and a public service announcement for why trying to hit high notes while going through puberty is not a good idea. I can practically hear Justin's balls drop and pop up again with each note and that's not right. That's not Christmas.

Never mind that Mimi's spreading some HO HO HO shit on the fake stone wall that your elementary school used in every holiday pageant, why does Justin look like the mom from Webster (or like a live mannequin in Talbots' window)? The only thing that saves this shit is the PUPPY!!! at the end who temporarily distracts you from the bleak scene Mimi and The Lesbeaver are giving us. That end scene looks like a final days Mae West picking up boys at the local junior high school. WHY, MIMI, WHY? (answer: $$$)

via Vulture

Mimi's body was invaded by twin unicornlings and enough water to keep a synchronized swimming troupe of whales going for years, and it has finally returned to her as you can see from this week's cover of UsWeekly brought to you by the Adobe family of products.

Mimi was unveiled as the new body of Jenny Craig on Rosie O'Donnell's show last night and she cooed about how during her pregnancy she was as bloated as a soft dick inhaling a fart. Once Monroe and Moroccan slid down her rainbow birth canal, she dropped 40 pounds of water weight within one week. With Jenny's help, Mimi lost another 30 pounds of chunk in 3 months and she has donated her old industrial-strength Spanx girdles to Xtina since she can fit into a size 4 or 6 now.

If you can stop rolling your eyeballs to a size 0 for a minute, read what Mimi had to say about the emancipation of her fupa. A page from the Memoirs of an Imperfect Gunt courtesy of the Daily Mail:

Speaking to Rosie, she explained of her fight back to form: 'In the beginning, when I first had the babies, I had so much edema … water and swelling. 'Most pregnant woman have that just in their feet,' she explained.

'One day I was doing my thank-you notes and I noticed it started rising up the leg, so I had edema. … I didn't think I would ever be the same person.'

After shedding some initial weight, Mariah started the strict Jenny diet plan, for which she is now a spokeswoman. She said: 'The first week, I lost 40 lbs. … of just water. It was just water, initially. When I started with the programme, I lost at least 30 lbs of weight that needed to be lost. The whole point of this is not just like: "Oh, hey, look at me and my weight loss, I'm fantastic." It's really health.'

She eats calorie controlled meals, including soups, and also did gentle exercise - walking her dogs and doing workouts in the ocean. And rather than weighing herself constantly, she would judge her progress based on how she fitted her clothes.

See. If a multimillionaire celebrity like Mimi can drop 30 pounds in 3 months, so can you! Put down that fried chicken and donut breakfast sandwich and get yourself an in-home Hello Kitty lipo machine, a private team of Photoshop artists, a maid who straw feeds you zero calorie pie-flavored water and a lifeguard who will stand by while you roll around the shore and floss your down low scales with a seaweed boa like a slutty mermaid in a rap video. That last part is Mimi's idea of an "ocean workout." Or instead of doing all of that, we can just spoon feed Mimi some BITCH, PLEASE porridge made by the chefs at Jenny.

Subtle hate aside, I'm happy that Mimi's body has returned to her. But mostly because now she's really going to bring the HO SHIT by dressing like a shot girl at Senor Frogs (see cover above) and a stripper in a Spearmint Rhino commercial (see Jenny ad below).

On last night's 20/20, Barbara Walters (who I swear is slowly morphing into Michele Kleier from HGTV's Selling New York) introduced the world to the faces of the BABIES!!! that will soon grace Japan's national flag and will soon be covered in more body glitter than a go go dancer at a gay club. Moroccan and Monroe (I can't, you can't, we still all can't with those names) made their public debut six months after a light pink Pegasus delivered them to Mimi and Nick Cannon in a basket made of rainbow kisses.

You know, I was completely ready to give one of those awkward smiles and shifty eyeball moves you give when you see a newborn baby that looks like it just burst out of John Hurt's stomach. Every part of me knew that the Sanrio twinlings would look like you shouldn't give them water after dark, but then a Lisa Frank sunshine ray hit their faces and I completely melted into a giant puddle of ovaries. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?! Yes, the bong smoke was operating my emotions, but still. This shouldn't happen. Most babies look like an old man ass with possum eyes to me, but Mimi's newborn lamblets are pretty adorable. Roc and Roe look like cartoon mice that should be singing "Somewhere Out There" to each other and shit.

Mimi told Barbara that after her first miscarriage, she got on progesterone to conceive her Hello Twinsies. Mimi's pregnancy was as pleasant as watching Glitter sober and she had several false labors and toward the end she could barely move her beached whale ass without help from the coast guard and volunteers. If you care, you can watch the entire interview here. There's also a billion more pictures on a website Mimi burped up called DemBabies which is devoted to her twins. Yes, it's a mess.

And now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go find pictures of Kardashians wearings Krocs to get my emotions in the right cunt place again.

When Mimi rides the rainbow glitter caravan into the HSN studios, you know she's going to give us MOMENTS upon MOMENTS upon MOMENTS! Moments that make you feel like you're trapped in an airless butterfly sanctuary with a poetry slamming drag queen who keeps spraying you in the face with lamb piss. Moments that make you wonder if all of HSN's carbon monoxide detectors need to get their batteries changed. Moments that can be found in the psychiatric file of an insane lamb whose in a catatonic state from a lollipop overdose.

"I'll have the moment she's having." - Oprah and every damn Precious Moments figurine

I don't speak fluent Lambanese, so I can't even begin to translate the candy coated ridiculousness that slid down her unicorn tongue. You know how when someone gets heatstroke, they spit out a word salad with a side of nonsense dressing? The scrambled words that come out of their mouths make more sense than what came out of Mimi's. But I hope whichever Lisa Frank folder in Mimi's head that these thoughts come from never closes, because this shit is gold right out of a swan's ass.

I mean, I don't know what the hell a "camouflagian moment" is, but I feel my life will be bleak if I don't have at least one, dahling!

Thanks to Matt at Gawker for sitting through all of Mimi's 2-hour-long insanity parade and shrinking it down to 4 short minutes.

Giving us shades of Hottie from Flavor of Love (thanks to that miso-glazed microwaved mop on her head), the Unicorn Siren of the Rainbows stepped out in NYC yesterday afternoon while answering the question: How many people does it take to escort a fragile teddy bear princess three steps to her apartment building? I swear, I've seen 90-year-old paraplegics handled with less care.

I know that Mimi gave birth to Baby Boo Boo Bee Doo and Baby Ishtar only 3 months ago and I also know that she's had all of her human bones replaced with fairy cartilage, but this is a little thick on the much scale, dahling. Most lambs are out frolicking across thee fields just seconds after their young baaaaahs out of their vaginas, but this one has to be safely guarded like she's wearing 9-inch stiletto platform heels made entirely of shellacked rain drops (which is totally possible, by the way).

Instead of using their energy to make sure Mimi doesn't trip on the tiny sidewalks cracks, her handlers (Note: I've got fapping dibs on the one in the ebony tank, so DON'T!) should've punched themselves for putting her in a regular NYC cab. YES, Mimi sat on a seat that is mostly covered in the thick smegma that forms when various kinds of butt sweat marinate together. ILLEGAL! Just for today, I'm going to give them the benefit of the doubt and assume they brought a stuffed animal carcass for Mimi to sit on so her immaculate nalgas wouldn't have to mingle with the stank syrup of peons.