And just like that, Dustin Diamond was able to yank back his ‘Messiest Post-Saved by the Bell Career’ crown from Lisa Turtle’s head. Although I doubt it sat on his head for very long; I’m sure Kevin the Robot has already traded it in at the Cash-4-Gold shop closest to the jail and deposited the funds into Dustin’s commissary account. (Kevin was programmed to be stupid loyal).
So, remember last Christmas when Screech from Saved by the Bell gave a dude his heart – and by heart, I mean a switchblade to the body – during a bar brawl in Wisconsin? Well, he’s going to jail for that shit. According to TMZ, Zack and Slater’s forever definition of “I don’t know him” checked into the Ozaukee County Jail in Port Washington, Wisconsin on Friday night to serve a four-month sentence.
Dustin is only doing four months in the little house (prison is the big house, right?) because he claimed he totally didn’t mean to stab Casey Smet back in December 2014, and a judge ruled that he wasn’t guilty of stabbing. He was, however, guilty of being a dried-up dingleberry clinging to humanity’s longest asshair. No, he was found guilty of two misdemeanors: carrying a concealed weapon and disorderly conduct.
No word on whether or not Screech will be sharing a cell, but I’m guessing he’ll probably be given his own room. After all, I can’t think of a crime serious enough that would warrant a punishment like sharing a jail cell with Screech from Saved by the Bell. Actually, now that I think of it, I could totally see them putting Screech in solitary and using him as a threat. “One more shot, and you’re spending 24-hours alone with the most annoying TV character from the 90s, and I’m not talking about Steve Urkel or Joey Gladstone’s Woodchuck puppet.”
During a recent interview with The New York Times, feminine odor’s arch nemesis Robin Thicke confessed something anyone with two ears and a basic understanding of shame already knew: that his pathetic attempt to win his estranged wife Paula Patton back after she left him was beyond embarrassing. Robin has finally realized that releasing an entire album dedicated to the woman who finally got tired of finding random thongs in the laundry wasn’t such a great idea. The same goes for promoting it with the desperation of a “Can I Borrow A Feeling“-singing Kirk Van Houten. Robin knows now.
Robin says his “Aha!” moment (or maybe it was more of an “Oh shit” moment) came shortly after he dedicated his performance of “Forever Love” at the 2014 BET Awards to Paula. Robin was confronted by a friend who got real with him and not-so-subtly told him he looked “like a sucker“.
“What I thought was romantic was just embarrassing. And he said, “You should just go away for a while.” So I shut everything down. I took some time off to be with my son, and to be with my family and close friends. And the more time I took off, the more everything became clear.”
Even though every song on Paula was a damn disaster, Robin doesn’t have any regrets about recording them. Because that’s how Robin is.
“Look, my songwriting has always been autobiographical, and always will be. The ‘Paula’ album was no different. I was struggling through my toughest time, and I decided to share it. And I remember my team and my record company didn’t want me to put it out, but they stuck by me. In hindsight, the only thing I would have done differently was, I wouldn’t have promoted it or sold it. I would have given it away. That would have kept the purity of the message intact.”
“You mean I could have gotten this shit for free?” said all six of the people who bought Paula. A group that includes Robin’s horny papa Alan Thicke, who was no doubt responsible for 2/3 of the sales. At least Robin can sleep well tonight knowing that someone, somewhere is trying to make his wish come true by giving away their copy of Paula for free. Sure, so far nobody but the trash can will take it, but at least that somebody is trying.
Seen above doing her best impression of Canada’s King Joffrey trying to rap like the big boys he sees on TV, Emmy Rossum made an appearance on SiriusXM’s Sway in the Morning on Wednesday and she admitted something that made me instantly feel so so bad for her: that her next-door neighbor is Justin Bieber. It all happened when Emmy was asked to describe the one thing she’d do over in her life if she could, and it sounds like she’s about to say “I would live anywhere but next to that brat Justin Bieber“, but instead she told the story of the day she met her new neighbor. Warning: noxious levels of douchery ahead.
Once Emmy discovered that Justin had moved in next-door, she decided to do the good neighbor thing by going over to his house to introduce herself and say hello. Unfortunately, she didn’t get very far because she was stopped by his army of bodyguards, because Justin Bieber is far too important to say hello to the chick from Shameless. Also, he was too busy trying to act tough: according to Emmy, Justin rolled up in his Bentley and and started rapping along to the baddest song on his Kidz Bop CD:
Emmy also says she doubts she’ll be invited to any of Justin Bieber’s clubhouse ragers because she’s 28-years-old and that’s probably too old. I don’t know about that – he’ll definitely want an adult on hand to help him use the oven if he decides his party needs some Totino’s pizza rolls.
Here’s the Mrs. Wilson to Justin Bieber’s Dennis the Menace arriving at LAX yesterday:
File this under: “DUH! Of course that hay-haired control freak does!“. Even though human water cracker Gwyneth Paltrow and come-to-life cashmere scarf Chris Martin have been separated for what feels like years now and he’s moved on to shedding a single tear while slow-humping on Katniss Everdeen and she’s moved on to rubbing her bland parts on the Jonathan Cheban-looking dude who created Glee, Grazia UK (via The Daily Mail) says that Gwyneth still has Chris on a tight $900 imported leather leash.
A source (the lead singer of The Nappies) says that Goopy is happy that Chris has found someone to poke with his melancholy penis, but she doesn’t want him to forget about his co-parenting priorities, so she’s drawn up a schedule to make sure Chris spends enough time at Castle Goopskull with her and the gooplets. But how does Chris Martin feel about it? The source says you can call him “Natalie Imbruglia”, because he’s TORN:
They say Chris is ‘torn’ that Gwyneth has this much power over him, even though she was the one who ended their marriage. “Gwyneth still has a lot of control over him, which isn’t exactly desirable to prospective girlfriends,” the source tells the magazine. “The way things are are the moment, no sane person would want to be an accessory to their conscious uncoupling.”
I have no idea what Chris Martin’s Goop-approved schedule is actually like – it could just be like “Saturday, 10:30 – go organic meyer lemon picking with gooplets“. But since everything Gwyneth writes is a hand-dyed linen bag of bullshit, that schedule is most likely the worst. I bet even the gooplets look at it and roll their eyes. “Jesus Christ, mom…2:30-4:45 – watch Gwyneth work out to Tracy Anderson’s Awkward White Girl Hip-Hop Dance DVD? Again?“
Usually when Gwyneth Paltrow has to plan a birthday party for one of her children, she’d simply remember back to the birthday parties she had as a child (she had a Sweet pre-16 party every year till she turned 16, at which point, she then had a coronation) and go from there. But Gwyneth is a struggling single mother now, and according to Us Weekly, on Saturday she was forced to throw her son Moses a basic 8th birthday party in (shudder) the backyard with (super-shudder) hot dogs:
“Everything took place in the backyard,” the insider tells Us, adding that the set-up of the driveway included blue ombre-faded balloons spelling out the letters “M-O-S-E-S” beside the number “8.” The guest list included 20 of Moses’ friends and a few of 9-year-old Apple’s pals, too.
For lunch, the kids and adults enjoyed delightful treats catered by food trucks, including gourmet hotdog vendor Dogtown Dogs and L.A.’s beloved “chow truck” India Jones. Specialties included hot dogs topped with Fritos and Indian street food like samosas, curry and Indian tacos, the source says.
Then after all the guests left, Gwyneth locked herself in the bathroom, where she spent the next 24-hours dry-heaving every time she remembered that time a Frito touched her son’s lips and wailing “I AM SUCH AN UNFORTUNATE SINGLE MOTHER!!!”
I know Gwyneth is trying to make down-to-earth Single Mom Gwyneth happen and wants us to believe that she had a backyard birthday party with hot dogs and balloons, but I’m calling organic cashmere bullshit. Let me pull out my crystal ball and tell you what really happened in the backyard of Castle Goopskull on Saturday. It began with parents dragging their kids up the driveway as they assured them “It’s only 2 hours, you’ll be fine”, followed by a couple party games like Musical Imported Chairs and Wash Your Hands, then everyone singing “Happy Birthday” in French before Moses blew out the candles on his glass of cold-pressed kale juice. Then the children were given a gift bag containing a Restorsea hand cream and a Tracy Anderson Method DVD and told to GTFO.
And no, I’m not talking about his face; life took an effed-up shit on that a long time ago. And then the sun dried it out. And then God sprinkled it with douche-salts and cured it like a piece of jerk-flavored jerky. And then your dog found it in the park and threw you a LIGAF?-face when you screamed “Scooter NOOO! Don’t eat that!”
TMZ is reporting that they have the exclusive details of a domestic dispute between noted anal wart, Michael Lohan, and his girlfriend Kate Major at their home in Florida. It all began Monday evening when Kate locked herself in the bathroom after a fight with Michael, and mistook Twitter for 911 by tweeting:
Threatening to take our son. What judge would rule for him??? Stuck inside a house with this guy? He has a knife.
You know, just typical Twitter stuff. “Just tweeting about that time I locked myself in the bathroom with my son because my boyfriend was brandishing a knife! LULZ #SoRandom”. TMZ then says that a source close to the couple (Michael holding his finger above his lip like a pretend moustache) claims that Kate’s erratic behavior worried Michael enough to call 911 (…right after calling TMZ). When police arrived, Michael told officers that Kate was drunk and he worried for the safety of his son, but neither Michael nor Kate would leave the house.
Because being a hysterical attention-starved mess isn’t against the law in Florida, police left the Lohan-Major home without arresting either of those dum-dums. Kate went on to delete the crazy shit she said on Twitter and tweeted a weird apology, while Michael kept hitting TMZ’s number on speed dial until someone picked up so he could sell out his girlfriend as a drunk, crazy mess. Michael told TMZ that Kate is a lie-telling liar who’s drinking has gotten so out of control that she tried to kill herself this weekend and that if she doesn’t get help, he’s going to seek sole custody of their son, Landon. And because I hope it NEVER gets to that, I’m crossing my fingers that there’s a family of kindly swamp gators who will step forward and snatch baby Landon from his stroller in the parking lot of a Waffle House and raise him as one of their own.