Too Easy: Kristen Stewart Is Too Sad To Shower

As Robert Pattinson leaves sparkly tear stains on Reese Witherspoon’s country couch (read that as “Reese Witherspoon’s country cooch” if you need a more interesting visual today), the Health Department is knocking on Giovanni Agnelli’s door after getting complaints from the neighbors about the rank scent of curdled armpit cream and dirty butt sweat coming from his place. It wasn’t from a bunch of squattin’ hobos having an orgy. It was from Kristen Stewart wallowing in her stank misery, because RPattz won’t call her baaaaaaaaaaaaaaack.

Some source tells Radar that KStew is in the Sunset Plaza area, hiding out in the house of her producer friend Giovanni Agnelli (not to be confused with Lapo Elkann’s grandpa). The source says that KStew has gone against nature and achieved the impossible by actually feeling real emotion. KStew is bawling, eating ice cream, bawling, eating ice cream and bawling some more, and she’s doing all of it far, far away from a shower.

“She is beyond mortified and humiliated and she is also broken hearted. She says she truly loved Rob. She says he was her soul mate, but she blew it and now she is scared that she has lost him forever. She is pretty much inconsolable.

Kristen hasn’t showered or changed or washed her hair in several days. She is laying around in her T-shirt and shorts and eating ice cream. She really wants to believe that she can win back Rob, but I think deep down she knows that isn’t the case.”

If who ever is in charge of KStew’s publicity shit leaked this, then they should’ve at least made it believable. KStew can’t cry and if she could cry out natural tears, she would only cry if her weed box was empty. Also, they should’ve said that KStew is so sad and confused that she accidentally wandered  into a place she never goes, the shower, and did something she hardly ever does, clean her body with a sponge. Bitch’s heartbroken misery drove her to shower! Now, that would’ve been a story.

Also, KStew’s people should’ve just released this as her official statement on the whole thing:

Here’s A Half-Naked Zac Efron Dancing With A Skanky Nicole Kidman In The Rain

The trailer for The Paperboy (aka the movie I’m hoping is 2012’s biggest piece of trash) is finally here, and in case you already forgot what The Paperboy is about, let me remind you that’s it’s that mess of a movie where Nicole Kidman washes off of a layer of bronzer from Zac Efron’s chest by pissing on him. That’s all you need to know. There’s also a plot in there somewhere, but who gives even one shit about that when you’ve got Nicole’s coochie raining on Zac’s face and Zac getting rained on again while swishing his hips in his chonies.

A little warning before you press play. Most of the butchered accents will make you wish Nicole Kidman would piss in your ears so you don’t have to hear that crap, but let’s focus on the positive like Nicole’s white trash skank look. I know I’ve said this before, but this is the hottest the Australian ice cube has ever looked. She looks like a hybrid of my two favorite True Blood characters: Randi Sue the alley skank and Ginger. Nicole’s hot look almost made me forget that her face is completely non-biodegradable. Watch the trailer below if you care:

Parasite Hilton Still Exists And Is Trying To Be A DJ Now

In case you needed to know that Wonky McValtrex is as good at DJing as she is at sucking dick, here’s that piece of trash pretending to push a bunch of buttons and turn knobs during her debut DJ set at the Sao Paolo Music Festival. Fucking a DJ (or two, or three, or forty) does not make this skank a DJ. Wonks probably thinks DJ Afrojack passed his mixing skills to her through his jizz stream. If that was possible, Wonks wouldn’t only be the world’s greatest DJ. She’d also be the world’s greatest drug dealer, reality show contestant, basic cable actor, singer, porn star, bass player, club doorman, bathroom attendant, Walgreens stock boy, homeless man living under a bridge and (insert the occupation of every man in the L.A. area).

Is there such a thing as dj-synching, because there’s no way Wonks made music come out of those speakers by herself. Bitch can’t even operate an Etch-A-Sketch. Wonks put on that craft project Lady GaGa outfit and pretended to DJ while one of her crotch crabs was really the one pressing play on the iPod under that table.

Tyrant Banks Has Basically Fired Everyone

America’s Next Top J. Jill Catalog Model’s ratings have been falling faster than Tyra Banks’ sanity and so she has pulled her defibrillator out to try to save it from completely flatlining. The New York Post reports that sometime yesterday, TyTy and the show’s executive producer Ken Mok fired noted fashion photographer Nigel Barker, noted sashayer Miss J and noted Tron unicorn Mr. J. All three of them have been with that shit since the beginning. TyTy confirmed on Facebook that the 19th season will be Nigel-less and J-less:

To my Nigel Barker, Miss J, and Mr Jay: Thank you for all of our years together on America’s Next Top Model! Working with you is always an absolute pleasure. Excited for what the future holds for us. XOXO, TyTy

Meanwhile, the deflating bag of cold farts that is Kelly Cutrone is staying on as a judge.

Apparently, TyTy is giving the 19th season a complete makeover and wants to bring social media into that shit. The producers are talking to a few fashions bloggers including BryanBoy.

Why doesn’t TyTy just get it over with and turn ANTM into America’s Next Top Tyra Is Tyra, judged by Tyra, styled by Tyra, starring Tyra and only Tyra? Nigel and Jay Manuel can go, but firing Miss Jay is like purposefully dimming the sparkle on a piece of glitter. TyTy has finally broken out of her straitjacket and gone full crazy bitch. But what’s even crazier is that I’ll still suffer through season 19, because I have major abandonment issues when it comes to reality shit shows (see: Survivor, Amazing Race, Dancing with the Has-Beens, The Real World, Cops, etc.. etc…).

Porta Potty Sex: The Butler Did It!

Please clap your ass cheeks for man skank for all seasons, Gerard Butler, reaching the pinnacle of dirty slutdom by probably sexing on a piece he just met in a porta potty at Coachella over the weekend. You truly haven’t wished that the person before you took a post-Mexican deuce until you’ve walked into a porta potty and burned your nostril tips on Gerard Butler’s after-sex fumes. I can practically smell it from here and now I can say I know what a boiled egg rotting in a tub of used tampons on a subway platform smells like.

Gerard Butler is ten seconds out of rehab and every newly sober hos knows that the best place to continue on your road to sobriety is Coachella! You know, because it’s not like most people who go to Coachella need to freebase sand to deal with the sea of hippie hipsters from the Urban Outfitters commune. Page Six says that as far as they know, Gerard kept his body free of the bad shit at Coachella and instead he focused on feeding his other addiction: CHOCHA!

A source says that Gerard hit on piece after piece, and at one point he got close to a mysterious brunette (who may or may not be in the pictures below) at the T-Mobile party. The source says that Gerry and the mysterious brunette did the bump and grind on each other before going into a porta potty together.

I know, Gerry’s acts of romance never cease to amaze me. There is something poetic about staring into an abyss of hipster shit as Gerard Butler hits it from the back. I bet Gerry’s mystery piece realized that was one of the most beautiful moments of her life when afterward he asked her if she wanted to wipe her coochie off with the bottom of his shirt. Always a gentlemen, that Gerry!

Not Even A Married Woman Can Resist The Butler’s Sexual Charms

Marriage vows are as sacred as an In-N-Out VIP black card in Hollywood, so it should set your emotion dial to “shock” to read that an aspiring actress/model (see: 99.98% of the popular in Hollywood) broke hers to slip and slide all over the oil slick with a peen known as Gerard Butler. But who can blame her? Stare at the picture above and try to tell me that you wouldn’t want to see that between your thighs?

Radar is calling out bona fide skankatarian Gerard Butler for using his sledgehammer dick to break down the walls of some trick’s happy home. Before Gerard dried himself out in rehab, he allegedly screwed on a married woman and was the reason why she dropped her husband. A source says that Gerard got friendly with the married ho and her husband before he started spreading his peen queso all over her muffin. They went at it for a while and when her husband found out, she called things off with Gerard for a quick minute to try to save her marriage. It didn’t work and the woman realized that she couldn’t live without Gerard’s “chomping on sardines covered in Thousand Island” sex faces and so she left her husband for him. But by then, Gerard was over that shit and was already passing his peen to other tricks in the land. The source put it like this:

“She thought Gerard wanted to be in a relationship with her but then she found out he was involved with other girls, and hadn’t been exactly honest with her about what was going on in his life.”

[The woman] began calling Gerard incessantly and he changed his cell phone number. She hasn’t been in touch with him since he decided to go to rehab. Gerard has obviously moved on but she is now going through a divorce and trying to support her son (from a previous relationship).”

Radar also says this stupid bitch screwed around on her husband with Dave Navarro while he was still married to Carmen Electra.

This star fucking bitch really needs more people in her life to tell her that you can’t turn a Butler into a housewife. You play with fire, you’re going to get burned. You play with the Butler, you’re also going to get burned and he’s not going to be there to massage topical ointment into the warts he gave you. We’re all taught in sex education class that Gerard Butler is a hit it, quit it, immediately to go the free clinic before the infection sets in kind of ho. I swear.

As my spirit animal Latrice from RuPaul’s Drag Race would say: I only have 5 Gs for you, GOOD GOD GET a GRIP GIRL.