As Miley Cyrus ran around with her hitchin' ring not on her finger, January Jones landed at LAX from Paris and kept her mouth shut ("Oh now that home wrecking hussy whore keeps her slut mouth shut." - Miley Cyrus) about whether or not she screwed Liam Hemsworth the night before the Oscars. Then TMZ's camera dude got bold and said to January, "People think you're a homewrecker, January. I'm just saying!" Since a true homewrecker never loses her cool and will later get revenge by fucking that camera dude's husband or wife, the ice queen didn't lose her cool and didn't say anything.
But CDAN is saying that January has the sads about all of this, because she had no idea that Liam Hemsworth was engaged to Miley Cyrus. Someone told CDAN that January doesn't really keep up with what's going in Hollywood so she didn't know Liam and Miley were (or are) together. When January asked him if he was dating anyone, he shook his head no and so they went at it. January's all upset, because she feels like the homewrecker label on her forehead was starting to fade and now she's getting blamed for wrecking Miley's home.
Oh, please. Anybody who sucks on Liam's tongue knows that he's dating Miley Cyrus, because the inside of his mouth probably tastes like moonshine, pot brownies and chipmunk pellets. Besides, Sienna Miller and I refuse to believe that January would lick the face of a man she thought was single. The #1 rule of home wrecking is: don't fuck single men! January Jones is the current reigning home wrecking queen of Hollywood and nobody can tell me otherwise. Truthfully, Liam Hemsworth should be getting all of the shit. January's coochie is free to do whatever it wants. And yes, Chris Brown just fainted at the thought of an emancipated pussy.
It's a Happy New Year for Hugh Hefner. No, the medical community didn't introduce a colostomy bag that doubles as a Viagra injector. Crystal Harris' trick ass stayed around for their wedding last night! Hef, 86, and his engagement ring-collectin' ladyslave, 26, tied the knot in a small ceremony at the Playboy Mansion right before Playboy's annual NYE party. It doubled as their wedding reception, according to TMZ.
Can you blame Hef for going for the twofer on parties? The last time he put a ring on this fickle ho's finger, she took it, jumped the wall and told everyone how truly disgusting it was having sex with a flaccid mummy on a Hoverround. And then she pawned that ring! Cold-blooded.
He must really
need a titslicious bedpan attendant to work the midnight to 6 shift be in love to take her back and buy her another bauble. Either that or he has her family imprisoned in the secret dungeon under that grotto. Whatever works, Hef.
These pics are from Crystal's Twitter and Instagram. Check out the one from the ceremony. Hef has an equally ancient friend standing up for him. It's very Brothers Grimm, with the wizened warlocks and terrified-beyond-reason village slut being forced into marriage.
For all you bitches who are currently having issues with the IRS (which is a lovely organization so please don't audit me for mentioning you on a gossip blog), take heart. You still have to pay but discounts are possible. Just do what Ole' Swole Lips up there did. When the dude comes to collect the check, answer the door in your hottest fishnet bodysuit with a bottle of Mad Dog 20/20 clutched in your claw. Grab him by the tie, yank his ass in, get on your knees, and suck that dude's dick like you were scuba diving and his cock had the oxygen. Give that guy the best head he's ever had in his life. Make him feel like you just sucked his soul out through his cock. Yes, IRS workers have souls and they're beautiful like rainbows. And watch the amount you owe get smaller!
The utterly humorless Lindsay Lohan owed the IRS $100,000 because she snorted the 2009 tax payment for her house in Encino up her nose instead of handing it over. And E! sez they let her remove her lien for $93,701.57! Don't you just love a bargain, as the Christmas Tree Shop ads in my neck of the woods used to jingle? She was able to use the $100,000 she got from yuckmouth Charlie Sheen to pay her debt, AND she had money left over to buy scratch tickets for the rest of the Lohans as Christmas presents! The rest went to Roto-Rooter. Lindsay Lohan is a financial genius! Suze Orman better watch her ass. Cuz' Lindsay misplaced a crack rock and she'll go up an ass to find it.
This doesn't mean that Lohan's checking account is ready to bloom once again (if it was, she'd find a way to harvest and smoke that shit). She still owes $133,000 for her 2010 taxes AND owes for her 2011 taxes. That's a lot of cocksucking. Her jaw's going to be in traction. I'm sure White Oprah can chip in ("I'll take the 50 dicks on the right." - Dina Lohan).
Nana Lohan, don't answer any of Lindsay's calls for the foreseeable future. That shifty bitch would totally put her granny on the corner to cover her tab.
Speak of the devil. I just mentioned the Danny Devito and Rhea Perlman divorce at the end of the Courtney and Doug write-up, and then MK lands this little nugget in my inbox. So, nobody could possibly have guessed this, but the reason for their breakup is rumored to be a scorching case of wandering peen. That's a pretty common thread in breakups and I thought that might be it for a split second, but then I remembered it's Danny Devito and felt stupid. I mean who besides Rhea wants to get all up (or down really, unless you fail the "have to be this tall to ride" challenge) on that? Just look at his luscious little self up there with his strong broad shoulders, luxurious mane and the finest in footwear and tell me you wouldn't.
So in an exclusive, Radar.online lays out the whole sordid mess. Basically they say Danny's been an extra fucker since at least his Hoffa days, and he would promise to make these young dumb girls famous (spoiler: he didn't) if they would hop on his Wee Willie Winky (spoiler: they did). I don't know who is more disgusting, Danny for preying on these starry eyed hoes - who get extra points for doing the gold digging equivalent of the food challenge on Survivor - or the girls for pretending to be all into and humping on an old married gherkin for nothing. How completely embarrassing. And then there's poor Rhea over there, actually caring about this fool.
The anonymous source says that it was pretty obvious and common knowledge about what was going down (dramatic pause) on the Hoffa set and everyone felt sorry for Rhea, who was doubly humiliated because 1) her husband was openly cheating on her and 2) she was already famous when she started fucking on him so she had no excuse. Bummer.
At the Men in Black 3 premiere in Berlin yesterday, Will Smith, Josh Brolin and Nicole ScherMINGEr all received a lesson in sophistication and style when Germany's high priestess of class Micaela Schäfer floated onto the red carpet wearing a stunning couture ensemble exclusively made by your old shitty VHS player that ate almost every tape. Micaela, who was diagnosed with elegant-itis which causes beauties to overheat if they wear actual clothes, showed us all that it doesn't take much to look like the epitome of a lady. All you need is a dog chain collar from Petco, black panties, an 80s belt from the Salvation Army, barf from a VHS tape, a pair of camera-ready nipples and zero amounts of shame.
Yes, it's true that after the premiere, janitors mistook Micaela for a shredded trash bag that was ransacked by raccoons and threw her into a dump truck, but I'm sure she looked absolutely gorgeous as she climbed out of the landfill.
In case you missed it and really want to have a one-on-one with Xtina's Spandex-wrapped crotch biscuits, here she is giving us vacuum sealed realness while yodeling like a hyena in heat with her team on The Voice last night. "Fighter" isn't only the song Snookitina hollered out with her team last night, it's also what her top kept calling itself over and over again while it tried hard to keep her chest domes from flying across the stage. Yes, the anti-pantless groups are raising their protest signs for this shit, but I'm all about this look since I'm usually all about hos looking like the host of a Brit Brit-themed night at a strip club/truck stop gas station at an unincorporated county in Alabama.
And I heard that Xtina was actually wearing her signature red lip paint before taking the stage, but her outfit was so damn tight that the red popped right off of her lips.
(For Bradiful Bitch)
My new rock bottom blogging moment is opening these pictures of Mickey Mouse's former concubine, Adrienne Bailon, at a Caesars event in NYC last night and zooming in close to see how much of her shaved cheetah is showing. I stared so long that I think it winked back at me or maybe it got the last bit of her dignity in its eye and was trying to blink it out.
Adrienne Bailon was in 3LW in the early 2000s, The Cheetah Girls in 2003 and then she was mostly known in 2007 for being in Rob Whoredashian (yes, that's me suggesting that she fingered that bubble butt on the regular). And you know that saying? Once you go whore, you're shameless to the core! Adrienne brought that saying to life last night when she wore this snatchtacular dress thing. Adrienne told Celebuzz that this dress is in the fashion line she did with her sister, but if it was up to her, she'd free her vagina of its sheer dress prison and always be nekkid ass nekkid.
“If I could come out naked, I would. This is just some fancy stuff to throw over my little naked body.”
BITCH, you should've just come out with your coochie out, because that dress is just stupidly ugly. That peach part looks like the balloon valance from a nursery window. It makes her look like a second tier Las Vegas hooker who's pregnant with desperation. What is the point of that thing?
I will passionately defend a trick who is pushing the ho shit agenda by flashing her coochie to the world, but Adrienne just looks like an idiot. If you're gonna show it, really show it. I love how in some pictures she's holding that ugly peach part down all demure-like and then lets it go right before her chocha sneezes so everybody can get a look at the goods. Please, bitch. You know she put some pepper on her pussy so it could sneeze all night. Atchu!
Because JLo no longer has to face the controlling Puerto Rican wrath Skeletor vomits out at her every time she flop fucks the stage like a Real Housewife mermaid in heat, she went pussy-out wild at last night's AMAs. I thoroughly believe that there is no retirement age for doing ho shit, so I have no words of hate for 42-year-old JLo shoving her Thanksgiving dinner for 12 all over Pitbull's bulge. (Side note: Even though Pitbull's peen probably tastes like Drakkar Noir and he uses his own spit as lube, I'd still let him bite, lockjaw or whatever me. I so would. Judge me or report me to the ASPCA all you want.)
JLo started her performance by earning another Razzie for her staged breakdown and then she continued to strip like a lunch shift stripper until all she had on was Brit Brit's streched-out bodysuit. For real, though, JLo's performance was really nothing more than a joint commercial for Fiat and her liberated vagina. I kept waiting for this bitch to run over a Skeletor cardboard cutout with her Fiat to really drive the point into our brains.
We get it. JLo wants all of us to buy a car that costs less than her annual labia bleaching bill and she's HORNY! Keep fucking that Fiat, JLo, but nobody's ever going to believe that you actually drive one of those things when a camera isn't around.
What's that saying? A leopard can change its spots? Or is it, a Vanilla Gorilla can't stop being a whore? Well, whatever that saying is, Kat Von D has finally tattooed it to the outside of her brain after a self-realizing journey through the land of obvious showed her the light (and VG's 19th side piece). Kat slipped into the open confessional booth on Facebook where she admitted that she once believed that she could tame Vanilla Gorilla's forever wandering slut dick and prove to the public that he's not just a mutated, lie-filled anal wart with beady eyes and a philandering peen. Kat starts out her Facebook post by saying that if her relationship with VG was a reality show, it would probably be called 19 Skanks and Counting.
Never have I felt so strong about True Love, than I do today. I believe in Love more than anything else, and more than ever before.
Today I encountered the 19th girl to add to the list of people Jesse cheated on me with during this last year.
I kept going back and forth in my mind as to what the best way would be for me to release and let go of any residual feelings remaining from that toxic relationship. All of this may sound petty or immature to some, but I assure you this is coming from a place of pure honesty and love.
There was a time when I was confident and excited at proving the world wrong, because I believed so deeply in people's ability to change for the better. Although this was not a primary purpose in the relationship, I did feel like it would be a positive thing for those who judged Jesse solely based on what they read in tabloids, to see that change is always possible - even in the people who seem hopeless.
I still believe that, even if that change never occurs inside of him - because I see proof of change everyday - in others, and in myself.
I'm far from perfect, but am willing to examine myself, and my patterns of dysfunction, and then put in the work to better myself. It's a daily practice, but it’s working.
Sure, its easy to tell someone, "I told you so” especially if you're criticizing someone from the outside, but that attitude comes from a place called Ego, and not Love.
I know I deserve a big fat "I told you so,” from everyone, and wish I didn't have to say, "You all were more right than you'll ever know” but you were.
Not to worry, I've gladly paid the consequences for every mistake I've ever made, but learned so much from each of them.
Kat then goes on to write that she is sick of being compared to VG's original whore Bombshit McGee, but she's mainly telling us all of this as a way of making peace with herself....and because a bitch could really use some press now that her reality shit show is lying dead under TLC's hoarders pile.
I think it just made me sad today to imagine him still in that dark place - where seeking validation through the attention of women takes precedence over being a good father, a sincere friend, a better coworker, and a happy individual.
I tried my best to go through all of this without venting, or complaining, or fueling more tabloid mumbo jumbo - but this isn't about any of that.
This is about me making peace with myself, and forgiving myself for making some bad mistakes.
I don't want to sink into the feelings of regret, or resentment.
Because right now, for the first time in my life I have felt regret, (for someone like me, who's never felt that before, this is hard to say out loud).
Time is something you can never get back, and what we do with this very present moment is the most real thing we have. So if that's the lesson Jesse forced me to face and learn by all of this, than all I can say is Thank You.
It would be nice to move on now, and kindly thank you all in advance for your support, love, and positivity.
Life is far too grand to focus on the negative and put each other down.
Breaking news: a trash heap ho who tattooed her face so that it looks like the Milky Way gave her a facial had a huge lapse in judgement. Fuck me with a DUH.
Yes, Kat Von D should've seen this coming (the same way her pussy saw a lifetime of stinging as soon as VG's STD stick touched it), but there's really a lesson we can all learn from this. The first time he cheats, shame on him. The second time he cheats, shame on you. The 19th time he cheats, don't fucking WAH WAH WAH about it on Facebook, because we already know, bitch.
Or in this case, on the weeknight.
Lindsay "Out Calls Only" Lohan continued giving us the international remake of "How to Marry a Millionaire...or At Least Fuck with One So He Gives You 8-ball Money" in Paris last night when she left a club called Raspoutine with the owner Andre Saraiva. Community Service can go and eat itself, because Cokey du Jour is out there putting names in her little black book. LiLo's got Client #1 in New York, Client #2 in Milan and now she's got Client #3 in Paris. I knew there had to be a reasonable explanation for why Heidi Fleiss' parrot was always whispering into White Oprah's ear on the ho stroll's prime corner.
I can't even bring myself to sprinkle hate on LiLo. Snatching jooree is so OVER and it's all about snatching up a stack of hundreds on the nightstand with your snatch. Click clack, click clack. Yes, a bitch can argue that LiLo's snatch game is worth whatever the price tag on a box of stale PEEPS reads three days after Easter, but she is a MOVIE STAR!!! (I'm sure White Oprah wrote that exact line on her Craigslist ad).
Here's more of LiLo serving the community in Paris last night. The sight of her in that dress might make you sing "the cooookey in reeeeeed" to yourself and her dude looks like Mo from The Simpsons in Danny Zuko drag, but at least ho is keeping the bar stocked.