On Friday night, former Mrs. Texas United America and current humble rose of Houston, Theresa Roehmer, and her husband went to dinner at their country club and while they were filling their bodies with canary diamond lasagna and salads made of $100 bills and gold drizzle, a thieving theif broke into their mansion in the fancy Houston suburbs of The Woodlands and stole $1 million in luxury shit from her famous three-story, 3,000 square foot closet. The thief filled three of her Birkin bags (around $60,000 each) with priceless heirlooms and jewels. Before the burglary, Theresa Roehmer had 60 Birkin bags and now she only has 57. We should all take the rest of the day off and spend it standing near a freeway off-ramp while collecting coins in a Styrofoam cup, because this classy Botoxed daisy petal is down three Birkins and needs our help in rebuilding her life!

Theresa tells KHOU that the thief knew exactly what he was doing. He used a glass cutter and a patio umbrella to break through a window in a downstairs bathroom. He went directly to the closet Theresa calls her “female man-cave” (“Aww, that’s my nickname for Zac Efron’s asshole” – Michelle Rodriguez) and stuffed three of her Birkins with Rolex watches, diamonds and family heirlooms she can’t replace. Their alarm system wasn’t turned on and Theresa didn’t lock up her closet. Only one of their many security cameras caught the thief, but they didn’t get a shot of his face since it was covered with a mask. The former fitness center mogul (she owned a few gyms in Wyoming) and her husband, who comes from oil money, moved to The Woodlands after their last mansion got broken into. Apparently, the police don’t believe it’s an inside job.

“They say it doesn’t look like an inside job at all. They said it was very professional, like too professional. The police said it could have been somebody that, like I said, saw all the publicity, Google Earthed it, figured it all out, flew in here, who knows?

He took heirloom items that were passed to me from my husband’s mother that has passed away. I mean I don’t care about all this crap. I really don’t care about this crap. I care about the stuff that was passed to me. No one deserves this. I don’t care if you’re wealthy. I don’t care if you’re poor. Your personal belongings are your personal belongings.”

Uneducated whores have called Theresa’s closet “the biggest closet in the world” and those dumbasses obviously don’t know about the luxurious closet that John Travolta has lived in for years. Theresa regularly whores out the closet that’s bigger than most people’s house. Theresa gave Good Morning America a tour of it recently, it’s been in Elle Magazine and she hosts charity events in there.

Here’s Theresa’s face almost melting as she shows the news the empty shelves where her Birkins and jewelry used to be. Theresa Roehmer was obviously plucked from the same humble silicone rose bush that the Queen of Versailles was plucked from.

She is filled with so much grief that she can barely move her natural face and natural lips!

So, Theresa has been robbed before, she’s bragged about her opulent closet all over TV and yet she didn’t turn on her security system and/or lock up her treasure trove of luxuries before leaving her house at night? Do I need Detective La Toya to tell me this is an insurance fraud situation or should I just know that already since it’s obvious? NO! This is obviously not an insurance fraud situation. Theresa Roehmer’s spit balls are worth more than $1 million! Some cold-hearted, dead-souled criminal preyed on a beauty’s trust in her community and heartlessly stole 1/900000000th of her net worth. This is an American tragedy. If a tacky millionaire’s unsecured, ridiculous closet of overpriced luxuries isn’t safe, is ANYTHING safe?

And I’m with Theresa friends on Twitter, I am sincerely sorry for her loss.

How will she ever go on now that she only owns 57 Birkin bags?!

Pics: Neiman Marcus Blog

Here we go again; Michael Lohan is a drama-loving attention-seeking mess, take 8,303,472 (in the words of the great Mr. Lahey, the shit apple doesn’t fall far from the shit apple tree). According to TMZ, Lindsay’s deadbeat dad claims that his pregnant girlfriend Kate Major (seen above looking like Smurfette and Gargamel after 2-for-1 tequila night at Señor Frogs) is having a super shitty time in jail for her DUI. Michael says that Kate’s vagina has started bleeding on two separate occasions, but when she goes to the infirmary, they give her an ultrasound and tell her she’s fine. Michael is pissed off that the jail didn’t call in a specialist or rush Kate’s ass to the hospital, and Dr. Michael Lohan OB-GYN tells TMZ:

“You know damn well if someone has vaginal bleeding while pregnant that’s indicative of a miscarriage.”

Damn, those Lohans love to throw around the word “miscarriage”, don’t they? Again, shitty apple, shitty apple tree. Michael is also pissed that the jail has forced Kate to “carry her property back to her room” while bleeding from her down-lows. Oh my god, they made Kate carry her own things?? Who’s her CO, Pornstache? Anyways, Michael thinks something in the prison pruno ain’t clean and he’s hired Casey Anthony’s attorney Jose Baez to fight for a court order to have Kate treated properly.

I really hope that Michael Lohan’s attorney is able to get that court order, because I know that if Kate was seen by a professional doctor, he’d take one look at her medical history, see that she already has one child with Michael Lohan and is pregnant with another, determine that she’s clearly insane (she willingly fucked Michael Lohan, after all) and request she be transferred from jail to a psych ward. Then when she gives birth to Major-Lohan Baby No. 2, they can quickly whisk the baby away to a neonatal support group for newborns with extremely fucked up parents. Everybody wins!

Aspiring toddler-faced diplomat Selena Gomez is currently in Italy for the Ischia Global Film and Music Festival, but has taken a break from strolling the streets looking like a chola Mrs. Roper to express her thoughts on the conflict in the Middle East. Yesterday, Selena posted this vague-ish “Pray for Gaza” message to the mallrat teenager equivalent of The Guardian, her Instagram account (via TMZ), then elaborated on the picture by asking her followers to “Pray for those families and babies”. TMZ seems to think that the cryptic-ish message shows that Selena is pro-Hamas. But I have no clue if that’s true or not, because I’m a next-level idiot who can’t read the word “Hamas” without picturing a pita chip getting dipped into a delicious tub of Sabra.

Even though the first thing I do when I open a newspaper is flip straight to the Family Circus comic, I do have a rudimentary understanding of what’s going on in the Middle East. However, if any of my friends were to approach me and ask: “Allison, I’m dumber than you (“Impossible, but go on” – Me) and I don’t know how to Google. Can you tell me what I should know about the crisis in the Middle East?”, a look of terror would wash over my face and I’d start sweating profusely from my brain. What I’m trying to say is, anyone who willingly chose to date Justin Bieber for as long as she did definitely has a pile of POGS for a brain, and I’d love to hear Selena Gomez try to explain what’s happening in Gaza. I bet it would start with “So, like, here’s the thing about hummus…”  

Here’s the aspiring future Secretary of State at a press conference in Italy earlier today wearing some kind of see-through wedding piñata dress.

Pics: Instagram, Splash

Some pop stars will take a song they didn’t write at all and change one tiny lyric so they can get the songwriting credit, because: 1) The throbbing, pus-filled ego monster that lives inside of them tells them that the song is nothing without them and; 2) The throbbing, pus-filled greed monster that also lives inside of them wants that royalty money. Beyonce is known for pulling that trick. So during a Reddit AMA (via Vulture) to promote her new Vh1 show Make or Break, songwriter and 4 Non-Blonder Linda Perry was asked what she thinks about hos pulling that shit. As the BumbleBeys of the Beehive prepared their stingers for attack, she spit this out.

Linda, how do you feel about Beyonce changing one word on a song and getting writing credit. Does that bother you as a songwriter?

well hahaha um thats not songwriting but some of these artists believe if it wasnt for them your song would never get out there so they take a cut just because they are who they are. but everyone knows the real truth even Beyonce. She is talented but in a completely different way

That statement is dripping with pure, potent, sickening jealousy! The chola Erykah Badu is obviously just jealous of Beyonce’s impeccable writing skills, because she wishes she wrote the classic Christmas song Silent Night,  the haunting Ave Maria and the disco masterpiece Emotion like Beyonce did! How dare Linda Perry come for little, old songwriting artist Beyonce. I mean, Beyonce obviously writes her own songs. We all saw her scribble in her notebook in that insufferable propaganda piece masquerading as an HBO documentary!

Miley Cyrus’ living room altar to her fallen dog Floyd wasn’t a tribute enough, I guess, because yesterday during a party at her house she continued to honor him by getting his face inked into her body. But Floyd is shaking his head and spitting on that shitty tattoo from heaven, because that isn’t an honor, it’s a dishonor! That tattoo is offensive to Floyd, because a) It looks like it was done in 7th grade home room with a BIC, a lighter and a safety pin, and; b) That doesn’t look like Floyd, it looks a barrel-chested cat pig. The ultimate dishonor is making a dog look like a cat.

Miley getting a crappy tattoo is one thing, but her friends got the same tattoo and one of those friends is Wayne Coyne from The Flaming Lips.

What are you going through, Wayne?!

Wayne Coyne’s family needs to speak to an interventionist right away, because a mid-life crisis has taken a sharp, ugly turn down It Wasn’t Not Funny Blvd. when the mid-life crisis haver is partying with Miley Cyrus and getting her dead dog’s face tattooed into his body. Wayne Coyne is 53 years old and 53 years old is way past the point of Too Old For This Shit. Wayne needs to take his ass home and after he Googles the address to his nearest laser tattoo removal place, he needs to email Iyanla right away, because his life needs fixing. If you should ever find yourself around Miley and she offers you a joint, run away immediately, because whatever kind of dark-sided lizard witch craft herbs she mixes her shit with causes hos to do crazy things that they can’t come back from (see: WAYNE COYNE).

You know you’re far gone when emo pony Trace Cyrus, who didn’t get that tattoo, comes off like the reasonable and sane one.

Pics: Instagram

Billy-Tom O’Connor’s dick situation was already Hammaconda-sized, but he wanted a monster peenzilla that would make jaws break and vaginas close up just by looking at it, so he went to a plastic surgeon and asked for a salchicha that can be seen from Google Earth. I know, a man with a gloriously exquisite mullet, two first names and a dick that can poke your bladder out when he sticks the tip in? That shivering sensation you’re feeling down below isn’t from your sex parts shaking over the thought of taking on Billy-Tom’s crotch monster, it’s the feeling of being in love with this adonis.

Billy Ray Cyrus’ Irish-Traveller cousin and his plastic surgeon were on the British talk show This Morning to talk about how he took his dick from a kielbasa to an entire Hillshire Farms factory. Billy-Tom’s plastic surgeon said that there’s two kinds of penoplasty surgeries. A dude can either make his dick longer or he can make it girthier. Since Billy-Tom’s peen is as naturally as long as a toddler’s (or Matthew McConaughey’s) arm, he went thicker. Billy-Tom’s plastic surgeon lipo’d out fat from other areas of his body and pumped it into his dick. Billy-Tom ended up with a loch ness monster of a peen that’s 10 inches long and 7 and a half inches wide. It’s as big as this can of hairspray.

Billy-Tom’s got one of those multi-purpose dicks. So many uses! If somebody breaks in, just get Billy-Tom hard and then whack that thief in the head. If you and your friends want to play an impromptu game of baseball and you don’t have a bat, just use Billy-Tom’s dick. If a mongoose is in your kitchen and refuses to leave, just flash Billy-Tom’s dick at it, and that Rikki-Tikki-Tavi motherfucker will mistake it for a cobra on CGH (cobra growth hormones) and run away.

Billy-Tom does a little porn, but that’s not the reason why he Super-Sized his dick. Billy-Tom did it for him. And he said that some ladies throw holy water at it and run to the nearest church, but most love it.

“On two occasions I have got to the point where they’ve seen it and they’ve refused me…they just point blank said they’re not willing to go any further with that. But most other girls absolutely loved it.”

He went on to say, “Yeah, most of them died from death by impalement, but they loved it while they were on it!”

And since British morning television is so much better than American morning television, This Morning showed a picture of Billy-Tom’s peen in a sleeping state before and after he plumped it up. Click here to get a serving of that. And yes, yes, I’d hit it, but it’d probably hit me first.

Here’s Billy-Tom on This Morning. I hope this TV appearance leads to a producer setting up a Pay-Per-View wrestling match between The Hammaconda and Billy-Tom’s monster, because I need that in my life.

via Metro UK