Olivia Wilde's marriage to that Italian prince dude ended about a year ago and Jason Sudeikis' marriage to his first wife ended about two years ago, but I guess they're both ready to try that marriage thing again. Jason gave Olivia a hitchin' ring during the holidays and after she said yes, they celebrated by putting on their track suits (with holes cutout for their genitals), tying on their running shoes and then fucking like Kenyan marathon runners. Olivia and Jason have been fucking like Kenyan marathon runners for a little over a year now. Olivia went on Twitter this morning to confirm that Jason will be her second husband:
Thanks for all the sweet congratulatory love, friends! And may I compliment your savvy use of that nifty engagement ring emoticon.
It felt like Olivia's divorce from that Italian prince dude was only finalized six seconds ago. Don't hos know that it's okay to hump each other naked without being married? Don't let my abuelita's words get to you. You won't ride on an orgasm wave to hell if you let the dick in before marriage. But then again, Jason's EMT dick did give CPR to Olivia's coochie and brought it back to life. Oh well, he'll make a perfect, and brief, second husband.
After Olivia Jane Cockburn's marriage to that Italian royal dude ended, relatives she hadn't seen in years brought her casseroles wrapped in aluminum foil, her family hired professional crying ladies to constantly weep at her panty drawer and the choir at her local church sang "My Heart Will Go On" while pictures of her pussy flashed on a screen above them. Because Olivia Wilde says that her coochie went to heaven when her marriage went to hell.
Glamour hosted a night of monologues called These Girls at Joe's Pub in NYC on Monday night and Olivia Wilde got up to say things about her down low parts including this piece of poetry about her marriage ending:
“I felt like my vagina died. Turned off. Lights out ... And you can lie to your relatives at Christmas dinner and tell them everything on the home front is just peachy. But you cannot lie to your vagina.”
I don't know if you can't lie to your vagina, but you can lie FOR your vagina. Don't act like you haven't hollered out a wave of "OHHELL YES OHSHIT YES OHDOMELIKETHAT YESes" while your vagina is barely staying awake and keeps hitting the snooze button.
Olivia went on to say that when she met Jason Sudeikis, who was at Joe's Pub that night, her punane rose from the ashes of woe. It was the second coming of her pussy. Now once a year, we celebrate the resurrection of her vagine by painting a picture of her coochie on hard-boiled eggs and the Crystal Cathedral presents a show called The Glory of Olivia Wilde's Cooch.
Olivia said that her box is making up for lost times and she and Jason "have sex like Kenyan marathon runners." Olivia then told this story about OliviaLand:
In Olivia Land, relationships can legally only last seven years, without an option to renew. That way it never goes stale. Can you imagine, if we only had seven years? We’d be so nice to each other, so kind, and appreciative and enthusiastic, like we were eating a really expensive bowl of pasta! And in Olivia Land people wouldn’t cheat nearly as much because there wouldn’t be the threat of spending forever with one bedfellow. It just wouldn’t be legal. There’s the issue of kids. Okay this is fun.
In Olivia Land, all the kids go to boarding school at seven. It’s like in Harry Potter!
I would like to legalize prostitution. Hiring a sex worker in Olivia Land would be as easy, hygienic, and inexpensive as getting a pedicure. That way when away on business or just not in the mood, we could just hire a hooker for our loved one and keep them uninterested in cheating and keep them satisfied. These particular hookers would obviously have to be mute and possibly cross-eyed.
In Olivia Land, the streets are paved with dark chocolate, and all the people are free of body hair and menstrual cramps.”
But back to the Kenyan marathon runners thing. How in the hell do Kenyan marathon runners do it? My guess is that they pray to God beforehand and then they start out real slow. Just as they start to get into it, they stop and Olivia gargles her coochie out with whatever water is sponsoring her sex times with Jason. Then they go for a little bit longer before they go really hard at the end and Jason squirts out the finish line. Then they fall to the floor and start crying as their family members throw their country flag on top of them. Isn't that how everybody fucks? Now I feel weird.
File this under: Riveting news is RIVETING!
Jason Sudeikis and Lindsay Lohan, seen here looking like a (don't click on that) prolapsed anus wearing expired eyeliner, were both at a party for Purple Magazine on Saturday night when one thing led to them trying to bust a nut into each other's mouth holes. A ho who witnessed this important moment in peanut history gave this first-hand account to Page Six:
“Jason and LiLo were sitting across from each other, then Jason started throwing peanuts or paper at her. Lindsay kept ducking to miss them until she decided to throw them right back at him. Then they began throwing nuts at each other trying to get it into each other’s mouths. Once finished they got up and hugged and started laughing together.”
This is the part in the post where I come clean and admit that I only posted this non-story so that I could use that naturally gorgeous picture of Blohan looking like hot death warmed over a plate of dehydrated scab skin. I also posted this so that when the Clinica Mobile nurse lets you know that you have once again contracted Chlamydia of the retinas, you can blame it on that headline.
A long time ago I was dating this total asshole who was hotter than me in all ways, drove a better car, was liked by all, made more money, had nicer towels, was never the recipient of an EWWW face by a nurse when he took off his clothes for an exam and was basically the kind of piece of shit who could anything he wanted by winking and flexing his perfectly shaped 8.5" peen. I truly believed that he was only dating my ass, because he made a bet with his friends that he could transform me into winning Mr. Gay West Hollywood or some other kind of beauty pageant. I should've known something was amiss when he took me shopping and made me try on a bunch of outfits at a rapid speed to a Roy Orbison song. Anyway....
One weekday afternoon, we were driving around his immaculately detailed BMW when he got a call from his office that they needed him to stop by and sign a few things. A look of fear, not unlike the one Mel Gibson makes when he accidentally drives into a Hasidic community, plastered across his face and he swallowed hard like his saliva was made of nails. We drove to his office in silence and he told me it was only going to take him less than 10 minutes so I should just wait in the car. Bastard parked way too far from the office,took the keys and skipped off toward the building.
As I sat there like an overheated dog waiting for its owner to return, I realized that I had been dating the bitch for three weeks and I had only met one of his friends and never stayed the night. That's also when I looked at the building and noticed they had an air-conditioned lobby and waiting room. THIS BITCH didn't want his co-workers to know that he was waving his Adonis dick in the face of a homely, skinny gay with bad highlights! I should've stomped in there and caused a scene, but I really wanted his eighth world wonder wang to stomp on my b-hole later on in the night, so I kept my lips shut. Sigh. It was one of the only times in my lifetime that I regretted being a dumb slut with no self-respect.
Well, that's basically what Jennifer Aniston did to Justin Theroux at last night's Horrible Bosses (aka The Workplace Bad Teacher) premiere in L.A. The paps say that Justin stayed in the car while Aniston worked the carpet. Once she was done, Justin slid in through the backdoor to sit with her in the theater. This move actually surprised me a bit. Jennifer wants the world to know that she's finally got a man! So I figured that a completely clothes-less Justin Theroux would show up wearing only a naked Jennifer Aniston frontpack that attached to his peen. That Aniston! Always full of surprises!
Here's more pictures of all the hos who got to show their faces while Justin had to hide his in the car: Aniston, Chelsea Handler, Joey with Andrew Lawrence, Alyssa Milano, Jason Bateman with Amanda Anka, Jenna Elfman with some elf and Jason Sudeikis.
If that isn't a "This Barney Rubble looking motherfucker better not be telling my new piece about the time he walked on in me breastfeeding Beanie Babies", then I don't know what is.
At an MTV Movie Awards after-party at SoHo House last night, Jennifer Aniston found herself in the middle of her current fuck piece (Justin Theroux) and her former fuck piece (Jason Sudeikis). Jennifer usually reserves her side swept shank eyes for when she gets a response to her eHarmony profile from a man who loves long photo-op walks on the beach and knitting dog boleros (the work of Maddox, obviously), so this is totally some rare shit. But sadly, I don't think Jason Sudeikis realized he was on the receiving end of an Aniston side-eye. Jason was too busy wondering why Charles Manson is out of prison and if Anastasia does his eyebrows.
The nursery of mental asylums everywhere will be full of empty crib cages today, because all of the Beliebing toddlers will be in the computer labs, sending ALL-CAPS death threats to Jason Sudeikis. Jason better set up his e-mail settings to automatically reply with a link to buy chewable Prozac to any e-mail that contains the words "Jascunt Slutdookie" or "DIE." Because Justin Bieber's insane fans will be out for virtual blood.
Jason was on Jimmy Kimmel Live! last night and the two talked about the time they were on opposite teams for the NBA All-Star celebrity game. Jimmy was on the same team as Justin Bieber and asked Jason if he trash talked the lesbian baby Jesus. What Jason said will make every mentally unstable Belieber bite their pacifiers in half while Ina Garten toasts to him.
Jason: "Trash talk him? A little bit. Just a little bit. I didn't even know it was him for the first two quarters, I thought it was a Make-A-Wish situation."
Jimmy: "You were trash talking a Make-A-Wish kid?"
Jason: "Yeah, easy target."
I see what Jason is doing. Dude is obviously a Selena Gomez fan and is trying to take the heat off of her while rounding up some material for himself. Because who wouldn't want to get a virtual death threat like this:
You know, this Belieber is actually giving Selena major credit, because they think she can suck and fuck an ass at the same time. Some hos (John Travolta) go to yoga just so that they can stretch themselves into that position!
When January Jones announced out of nowhere that she's pregnant with her first child ("You'll never make it as a baby in this town!!!" - Ashton Kutcher to January's fetus), most of us subliminally threw her a "You've been Sudeikis'ed" side-eye like the one Julia Louis-Dreyfus is delivering in the picture above. January hasn't said which dude got an awkward call in the middle of the night that started with "Um, so remember when you said that maybe a little dribbled out?", but the baby-making suspects have been narrowed down to Jason Sudeikis, Lil Wayne (Lil Wayne is always a suspect in cases like this), Bobby Flay and one of Benicio Del Toro's rogue sperm fishes that jumped out of Kimbo Stewart's ovary chamber and hid in the nearest safe place (aka January's ovary chamber).
The Washington Post slyly tried to get more information out of one of the suspects at the White House Correspondents' Dinner and the awkward conversation went something like this.
When I asked if he had any comment on the recent news about Jones, who split with Sudeikis back in January, he said, “I’d rather — yes but no.”
Was he surprised to find out she was pregnant?
“No, I —,” then he paused and stammered. “No, I didn’t have anything [else to say].” He stammered some more.and that was the extent of our conversation on the subject. Sudeikis seemed comfortable being asked about the situation, just unwilling to say too much.
Stuttering. Nervously shuffling around. Tripping over words. BITCH BE GUILTY! Those are the actions of a man who is already preparing himself for a future visit from an 18-year-old with a Frankenforehead and a past due child support invoice in hand.
Or maybe Jason is saving all of his energy and emotions for when he has to bust out a "You're Not The Father" jig after January's baby comes out with ginger hair and a three layer salsa chin.