Crackheads

Pervert extraordinaire Terry Richardson (aka the only photographer who takes Lindsay Lohan's picture nowadays) went to LiLo's free room at the Chateau Marmont to take her picture since she's got nothing else to do and stealing Ajax (to snort, of course) off of the housekeeper's cart doesn't take up her full day.

It wouldn't be a Blohan photo shoot if she wasn't dragging Marilyn and Elizabeth Taylor down with her, so there's that. In most of the pictures, Blohan looks like a 40-something bruised and busted desperate hooker who has been banned from every motel bar and now lounges against the cigarette machine in front of the Howard Johnson's hoping she can pick up some trucker dick. She's got that "If you ain't got cash, I'll give you a quick handy if you let me huff gas from your tank" matte twinkle in her eye.

In other words, I love this trashy shit. If you've had all your shots, you can see more of this mess at Terry's site (via IDLYITW).

The Fix's Maer Roshan spent months inside of Courtney Love's head poking at the malnourished rats, putting out the trash can hobo fires and trying to make sense of the scribbled thoughts that her brain spits out. Maerwrote an article last May about his time with Courtney, but there were so many strands of fuckery that didn't make the article so he used them in a new e-book on her. Even though Courtney threatened to ruin his ass, Maer still went through his old notes, interviewed people in her life and read legal documents to put the book together. There's some priceless pieces of it on The Fix, but one of my favorite is a quote from Courtney where she says crack transformed her brain into that of a calculus genius:

“The strange thing is, while the crack screwed me up in a lot of ways, it improved me in certain others. I’ve never been good with numbers, but when I was on crack I could do math really, really well. I became a fucking whiz at calculus.” 


This ho is crazy, but what I want to know is, when does Courtney Love ever come in contact with calculus. Like did she have calculus books laying around? You know how Snapple has facts written on their caps? Does a bag of crack rocks come with a mathematical problem? I can just picture Courtney scribbling all sorts of shit on the wall like numbers, shapes, Looney Tunes characters, the middle names of her enemies and thinking to herself that she's really making calculus her bitch when she's actually just drawing a bunch of gibberish. Calculus? More like Crackulus. Courtney is like the crackhead Good Will Hunting and I really hope Matt Damon plays her in the movie.

With all that being said, I still wish Courtney was the Secretary of Education when I was in school, because then smoking crack would've been part of our daily math curriculum! I still would've failed math, but at least I could've been fucked up on crack while doing so.

via HuffPo

Water is wet, I flicked at my nipple while using the neti pot this morning, Tommy Girl took his toast with a thick layer of nut butter and Lindsay Lohan allegedly snorted her way to fucked up and back on Sunday night. The headline "Lindsay Lohan Gets Loaded at Chateau Marmont" is about as shocking as the headline "Angelina Jolie Only Ate Air Today," but let's hear what Radar has to say about this mess anyway. Radar's source claims that at a SAG Awards party at Chateau Marmont on Sunday night, Blohan slurred her words and her eyes were so damn glassy that you could've cut a line on them. Apparently, she tried to look like the epitome of sober by only sipping on water, but her coke burnt nose told a different story. So said the source:

"Lindsay was spotted going to the restroom with a male companion on numerous occasions in a short amount of time. When the two of them emerged from the bathroom, Lindsay was giggling and her nose appeared red. Lindsay was spotted only drinking water in the lounge area, but she appeared to be loaded on something, and she seemed under the influence. Lindsay's eyes were glassy and her pupils were constricted. [She] was definitely on something. She was slurring her words, and needed help walking at one point in the course of the night. Lindsay was sitting on a chair adjacent to Harvey Weinstein's party - his was roped off and she didn't get past the rope. So she sat on the other side looking over. She looked bedraggled and desperate."

Of course, LiLo's rep denies all of this.

The only language Lindsay Lohan knows is Drunk Slur and her pupils are just naturally constricted now, so it would really be news if she was talking without a slur and walking without tripping over herself. But I CAN'T with her hibernating in the bathroom all night. Who does she think she is? Kim Richards from The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills? I hate that shit. That is why going to certain places is the worst. There's always some cokehead cokejacking the bathroom when all you want to do is take a quick caca, because you made the wrong decision of drinking a White Russian. You know how some bathrooms have a baby changing station? Chateau Marmont needs a coke snorting station just for Blohan. Let the non-snorters shit!

It's been a while since I've checked up on Pete Doherty and in case you're shooting up with the cold sweats in the middle of the night wondering about him, he's still a fingernail gunk of a mess. The Sun says that Dreamboat was strolling through a flea market in Paris with his girlfriend when his glazed-over eye marbles caught five of the most beautiful things he's ever seen in his entire life: a family of antique crackpipes from the 1930s! I'm sure that moment was like something out of a joint episode between Intervention and Antiques Roadshow. And of course, Dreamy's first question to the dealer was.......

"He loved them and said he would take them all – then asked the guy if the pipes could still be used to smoke with.

"Pete had a stunning girl on his arm who looked the spit of Kate Moss and he was very friendly, polite and funny."

In Dreamy's defense, he always asks if he can smoke crack out of it before he buys it. That should be everyone's number one rule in life: If you can't smoke out of it, don't waste your money on it! That's why I make sure all the butt plugs I buy can double as a bong.

Everyone who was backstage at the Coldplay concert in Abu Dhabi on New Year's Eve found out the painful way what it's like to witness a conversation between a tequila worm on meth and a pinched anus when Fishsticks Paltrow dropped some GOOP into Courtney Love's ear. I don't know why Courtney was in Abu Dhabi (Trying to sell herself at clearance prices to a sheik"), but she was there and somehow got backstage at the Coldplay show. Courtney's cheek found its way to GOOPY's cheek and as her system tried to fight off the "pretentious cunt" syndrome seeping into her face pores, she posted this on her Twitter:

Courtney Courtney Love Cobain
getting the best advise for the new years from a true friend, love you @GwynethPaltrow @Goop
31 Dec

What kind of advice could GOOPY give Courtney? Gently roll all your crack rocks in crushed lemon seeds before you smoke them? If you're going to write a threatening letter to your estranged daughter, do it on persimmon-scented papier from GOOPY's favorite stationary store located in the attic of a diamond museum on the outskirts of Paris.

And by the looks of that picture, the wrong ho is the one giving the advice. One of them looks like she only survives on eating nicotine patches and hasn't slept in weeks because the voices of her enemies keep her up at night. And I'm not talking about Courtney, for a change.

I mean, Fishsticks looks like hell. She looks like Kurt Cobain TODAY, which is probably why Courtney wanted a picture with her in the first place.

Have you ever tried to type while you're laughing your ass off??  Then you'll forgive the typos when I tell you that Lindsay Lohan is a changed woman ahahahaha no seriously hahahaha... AHEM!  SHE HAS CHANGED!!  TMZ says that Lilo has turned down numerous (hey, two counts as numerous) offers to host NYE parties because she desperately wants to change her party girl image.

Pure sea jasper, Red Bull, fake tanner, a Baccarat crack pipe, leggings with secret crotch pockets for stolen jewelry, Fix-A-Flat lip injections and the hole in the California Justice System she keeps fucking raw are just a few of the loves of Lindsay Lohan's life and you can add a kicking and screaming Heath Ledger to that list whether he likes it or not. Star Magazine (via Radar) somehow magically found Lindsay Lohan's private diaries in their paws and they may or may not have signed a scribbled contract on a T.G.I. Friday's cocktail napkin stating that they will not disclose that White Oprah sold it them for a few Mohegan Sun gambling chips and a grey goose. (Nobody tell White Oprah that contrary to what the drunk she gave a handy to in the parking lot told her, vodka does not come from the pee hole of a grey goose.)

In an entry from Memoirs of a Cokey dated January 22, 2008, LiLo cries about how she'll never feel Heath's touch again.

"Today Heath died. I’m in love with him…. He was the love of my life. He taught me so much, and he was everything I’ve ever wanted and more. I want to hear him laugh and hold me. I crave his touch and care.”

Shortly after Heath's death, both White Oprah and Michael Lohan claimed that LiLo was dating him and was supposed to fly to NYC to be with him just days after he overdosed. I think the coroner should update Heath's death certificate to read, "Cause of Death: Lindsay Lohan was about to visit him."

Blohan writes in other entries that she was having an affair with JFK, couldn't wait to start filming Something's Gotta Give, and suspected that her housekeeper was an undercover CIA agent who was lacing her barbiturates with arsenic. So all of this should be taken with a grain of coke.

Waking up to the crack house rats nibbling the pieces of shit and meth jank from her rotting butt corn teeth must have been the sign Lindsay Lohan needed to get her ass to a dentist, because she finally did and showed off her new Chiclets on her Twatter page last night with this little note:

Thanks Dr. Dorfman for the zoom... My gums are so sore though!

ZOOM?! Bitch, now you know you used that Playboy money from smiling your snatch on full-on veneers, not Zoom. If those aren't shiny white graveteeth covers, then that cup on her nightstand is soda instead of piss from a sober baby for future drug testing. I mean, if ZOOM could work that kind of miracle, then I'd use it on my bruised and battered no-no to restore it to its natural glory.

It says a lot when LiLo immediately runs out and gets her teeth situation fixed after we all said that mess looked like baked pumpkin seeds out of a dog's ass. But yet she doesn't do anything when the public yells at her to fix her life and shit decision making skills. I mean, this is the shit she chooses to fix? Priorities!

On a positive note, at least she has a new dazzling smile for her new mug shot of glamour.

And here's LiLo at the morgue on Friday, breaking in her new veneers with a cig.

NO! Madge wishes! This is the ghost of Lindsay Lohan's future (LiLo wishes!) Courtney Love scarring and scaring the students at Trinity College as she graciously accepts an honorary patronage of the pharmaceutical society (the photo agency tagged it as the "philosophical society" for some weird reason) in Dublin tonight.

The air in the theater was thick with crazy and queefs that contained an undertone scent of metal, and one member of the audience remembered to return his Planet Earth DVDs when he watched Courtney stumble across the stage like an albino otter with mange trying to swallow a catfish head whole. But believe or not, nobody ran out of the theater screaming for their Jesus, because Courtney gave them everything.

In this picture, Courtney showed the audience what most sober people do when they come across her in the wild in broad daylight. In this picture, Courtney is telling everyone to sit very still and not move, because she thinks she saw a coke granule float into the room on a sliver of wind. In this picture, Courtney forgot that she was in a room full of people and did some sucio shit that took 5 Catholic priests and a gallon of whiskey to cleanse off of the stage floor. In this picture, Courtney passed out again while standing up as her nose punctured a new hole in itself for air. Finally, in this picture, Courtney's complex thoughts became too much for her brain to take and she could feel it trying to slip out through her nostril holes. She can feel it! Can't you see it? She can feel it!

What I'm trying to say is that this fucked up bitch gave everyone a whore de force performance! This looks like a corner crackie performing a one whore version of The Birds for the hobos in the park. Courtney is playing Tippi AND the birds. The audience better have stood up and did what the free clinic doctor does after Courtney asks why her coochie looks like that: CLAPPED! Because Court gave them a show! Court also gave them nightmares to take them through the new year, which is why she was kind enough to sell them all sleeping pills she smuggled in from England. Courtney is a one woman EVERYTHING!

The only Whitney who should have her own show on NBC was up to her old bitch diva theatrics yesterday afternoon when she refused to fasten her seatbelt before taking off on a Delta flight out of Atlanta. You would think that the seatbelt was paper mache'ed with the receipts from her old crack dealers, because Whitney wasn't interested in laying one of her fingers on it.

TMZ reports that you can add the phrase "Buckle up, Miss Houston" to the long list of lines that turn on Whitney Houston's cunt switch. A source says that Whitney was sitting in her seat when a flight attendant asked her to put the top boy part into the bottom boy part, but she was not interested and ignored the request. Now, if one of us refused to buckle, we would've been tased in the mouth, kicked off to Guantanamo Bay and they'd still make us pay the $50 fee for checking in our luggage. But not Whitney. A second crew member approached Dionne's cousin and told her that if she didn't strap in she'd have to shoop shoop off the damn plane.

So Whitney had a choice: get kicked off the plane or buckle her seatbelt. Whitney took what was behind door number DIVA and allowed the flight attendant to fasten her seatbelt for her.

A source claims that Whitney is every type of sober and her nerves were just a little splintery from missing her original flight.

You have to be a brave bitch with some still hands to come at Whitney. Imagine having to buckle her in. It would be like trying to wrap a baby bib around a great white shark. It would've been a lot easier if the flight attendant told Whitney that as soon as she fastens her shit, the buckle will press against her belly and all her doody bubbles would pop out right away. Who needs Bobby B Bobby B?