There’s a hundred handfuls of famous dudes I can picture Jessica Simpson with (i.e. Huckleberry Hound and the Cuban Gynecologist), but Billy Corgan is not one of them. That’s why this little article from E! Online has me asking Jesus for some assistance here.

E! says that a Smashing Pumpkin and a smashed bumpkin are smashing each other. Let’s smash our heads in until this makes sense.

A source is saying that Jessica is completely “smitten” with Billy, and he’s telling his friends that they are officially dating. But one of Jessica’s “friends” isn’t about to send them a couple’s heart pendant necklace anytime soon. They told E!, “He’s just another in an endless string of Jessica’s boyfriends. They think he’s too old for her. No one takes any of her boyfriends seriously anymore because she has had so many. They’re sick of all of them being ‘the one.‘ ”

Jessica would fall in love one of my dog’s dingles if it sent her a nice text message, but what is going through Billy Corgan’s fetus-like head? Maybe Billy is freakier than we thought and he actually gets the tingles from cuddling with Jessica on the sofa while Papa Joe awkwardly stares at them from the corner with one hand “in his pocket” and the other hand twerking his nipple. Freaky ass freaky bitches!

Ever since “the slut dress,” retired from the spotlight and is now sipping on a daiquiri in a bag somewhere in Sarasota, FL, I’ve been waiting for its successor. Well, it’s likely that Alien Princess RiRi has found the next slut dress.

At a party for her new album in NYC last night, RiRi wore this stunning peek-a-nipple zebra tiger dress, which I’m pretty sure came from the Flirt Catalog’s “ladies who munch ass” section. This dress is worthy of such an honor, because it provides easy access for nipple pinching and it’s made from a fabric that is usually used to cover pillows from Z Gallerie.

Now if we can only get other celebwhores to wear this shit on the ho stroll. Somebody send it to Susan Boyle, Bobby Trendy, Beth Ditto, Noah Cyrus and Surprised Kitty.

And in other RiRi news, The National Tila Tequila Enquirer claims she’s got herpes. Maybe Tila’s a little jealous, because herpes is the only STD she hasn’t caught yet? Sorry, it was too easy.

So, Radar is saying that Rachel Uchitel told friends that Tiger Woods was hooked on having “Ambien Sex” with her. Apparently, Rachel said, “You know you have crazier sex on Ambien – you get into that Ambien haze. We have crazy Ambien sex.”

I feel like an innocent virgin again, because I have never heard of this shit before. My parts have been fucking with wrong bitches, I guess.

After doing some research (aka a ten second Google search and an IM conversation with one of my sluttier friends), I learned that when you’re fucking in an Ambien haze, you will do some kinky shit that you wouldn’t normally do when sober. When you wake up the next morning with a severed monkey paw in your anus and a butt plug in your mouth, you won’t remember what you did the night before. Cut to Gerard Butler saying, “Welcome to my world.”

The last time I took Ambien, the sexiest thing I did was hug my pillow really tight and slobber all over it. I need to ask my doctor for “that kind” of Ambien (wink wink).

Elle Magazine couldn’t choose between Lady CaCa as Vadge circa 1993 or Brit Brit’s Cheetolings for their January ’10 cover, so they went with both. That’s nice and everything, but they probably should’ve eased up on the Photoshop trigger. Homegirl’s eyebrows look like they are on loan from Grandpa Munster, but I’m glad they kept that sparkling “Ahs Will Kill Your Car Windows With Mah Umbrella” look in her eyes.

Brit’s Cheetolings look adorable despite the fact that SPF might have a broken neck now, and JJ definitely made a butt brownie (with roasted almonds) in his pants right before this picture was taken.

And here’s Brit celebrating her 28th birfday yesterday by dressing up as DJ Jazzy Jeff.

Just when I was hitting “publish” on my 10,678,978th Tiger Woods post of the week, he released a loooooonger than long statement on his website. The statement is so damn long that when you finish reading it, you’ll feel like Elin just busted you in the skull with an iron. Get an ice pack ready and read if you care:

I have let my family down and I regret those transgressions with all of my heart. I have not been true to my values and the behavior my family deserves. I am not without faults and I am far short of perfect. I am dealing with my behavior and personal failings behind closed doors with my family. Those feelings should be shared by us alone.

Although I am a well-known person and have made my career as a professional athlete, I have been dismayed to realize the full extent of what tabloid scrutiny really means. For the last week, my family and I have been hounded to expose intimate details of our personal lives. The stories in particular that physical violence played any role in the car accident were utterly false and malicious. Elin has always done more to support our family and shown more grace than anyone could possibly expect.

But no matter how intense curiosity about public figures can be, there is an important and deep principle at stake which is the right to some simple, human measure of privacy. I realize there are some who don’t share my view on that. But for me, the virtue of privacy is one that must be protected in matters that are intimate and within one’s own family. Personal sins should not require press releases and problems within a family shouldn’t have to mean public confessions.

Whatever regrets I have about letting my family down have been shared with and felt by us alone. I have given this a lot of reflection and thought and I believe that there is a point at which I must stick to that principle even though it’s difficult.

I will strive to be a better person and the husband and father that my family deserves. For all of those who have supported me over the years, I offer my profound apology. Blah…blah…blah…blah...

What’s with all the damn words?! If you’re going to talk, just be blunt. Tiger should’ve just issued a simple statement like: “I fucked some hos on the side. So if you see Elin smelling my crotch when I come home, you now know why. Now get off my dick (except for the cocktail waitresses out there) and leave me alone.”

End scene.

Harald Glööckler, a German fashion designer and one of the world’s legendary natural beauties!

There are really no words capable of expressing the love I feel for this glamorous German unicorn. Harald is something the angels queefed out in ecstasy one glittery night. Just gaze at his rings from the World of Warcraft fine jewelry collection at Spencer’s Gifts. Then let their sparkles carry you to his immaculate “mother of the bride” french tips. From there you can jump on his magical eyebrows of ABSOLUTE PERFECTION. It’s like a high-ranking chola queen scooted over his eyes and blessed him. They really couldn’t get any more beautiful. Sharpie deserves every Nobel Peace Prize for this.

And here’s Harald throwing the glitter and re-inventing the swish while selling his perfume on Germany’s HSN.