Marky Mark Getting A Spray Tan

Here I was thinking that Marky Mark got his golden glow from working himself up into a heated sweat while drop kicking rubber terrorist dummies in his garage to prove that if he, a one-man al-Qaeda killing machine, was on those planes headed for the WTC, 9/11 would’ve just been another day. I was wrong! Marky gets his tan in a can. Marky Mark is still in Miami and he’s still shooting that non-porn gay porn movie with The Rock.

I’ve never had a spray tan and I hate to tell a professional skin browner how to do her job, but shouldn’t she be spending more time on Marky’s chichis zone? Homegirl should spray a little tromp l’oeil cleavage onto Marky’s chest to really make his titties pop. That way the rubber terrorist dummies in his garage will be so blinded by his bountiful breasteses that they won’t see it coming when he karate chops them in their rubber necks, sending them to their rubber god.

How Dare Aishwarya Rai Go Out In Public Looking Gorgeous

Bollywood star Aishwarya Rai has been described as the most gorgeous woman in the world by people who obviously have never felt their retinas curl from the sheer shock of Shauna Sand’s natural beauty. But when a picture of a fuller Aishwarya Rai, taken six months after she gave birth, made the rounds, some dim-brained shit bags told her to get out of the kitchen and get back on the treadmill! According to them, it’s her job as a Bollywood star to be skinny at all times…like Posh! Yeah, those bitches completely lost me when they compared Aishwarya Rai, a human being, to Posh, an alien amphibian who loses her 4 pounds of baby weight by shedding her skin on the plastic surgeon’s table while nurses from NASA suck tiny particles of fat from her gills with Dyson wet vacs. That seems unfair, but that’s probably just me.

At AmfAR’s Cinema Against AIDS gala in Cannes last night, Aishwarya Rai made her first red carpet appearance since dumb fucks called her fat and ugly, and guess what? She still looked hot. To me, Aishwarya Rai would still be gorgeous even if she had 50 extra pounds on her body and those 50 extra pounds were from wearing a floor length coat made of hideous glove shoes, boots made from Kardashian taint hair, three extra chins covered with UGGs fur, a CROCs top hat and a beaver backpack with Chris Brown’s face on it. I know, I went too far with whole “Chris Brown backpack” thing.

Catherine Scalia Is A Hot Dog Stripper, Not A Hot Dog Hooker

I’d never buy a hot dog with extra sauerkraut or extra cheese from Catherine Scalia, but I still count her as one of my newest idols and watch the clip above from MyFoxNY if you want to know way. The former HSOTD and the hot dog water-covered pride of Long Island was put into handcuffs last week after an undercover cop claims that she sold him a hot dog, a lap dance and tried to sell him a John Travolta special (aka a handjob). Miss Catherine was released from jail and celebrated her return to the wild by flashing her all-natural, hormone-free ball park beef boobies at the cameras.

One of Catherine’s sons told The Post that she served 4 years in prison for selling her ass on the stroll, but she swears that she’s the Hot Dog Stripper and not the Hot Dog Hooker. The Hot Dog Stripper will plead innocent to the prostitution charge and she also plans to keep baring her nipples for a $1 in her hot dog truck.

Oh, Hot Dog Stripper, keep hot doggin’ and keep ho’in! I can’t wait until Lifetime eventually does the Hot Dog Stripper movie starring Lindsay Lohan or Sue Hawk.

Marky Mark Is Officially Done With Shirts

Watching Michael Bay’s Pain And Gain is probably going to be like watching a neon-colored pile of shit blow up over and over again, but it has brought us two wonderful things: the return of Camp Beverly Hills glamour and certified asshole Marky Mark running around in his chonies everywhere.

Marky Mark was back on his balcony in Miami yesterday and he gave the paps a clear view of the funky bunch in his panties. Marky Mark is built like a genetically modified teacup bulldog who’s just coming off of an addiction HGH, so who knew he had it like that in the dick department?

On another note, why is my junior high school friend’s cholo cousin Lefty hanging out with Marky Mark and how did his right arm grow back? Yes, they called him Lefty, because a rival gang shot his right arm off in a drive by. Further proof that cholas should be in charge of naming EVERYTHING.

This Is The Look: Marky Mark On The Set Of Pain And Gain

The costume designer(s) of Pain and Gain should get their Oscar speech ready, because they have clenched the win by throwing this hot look onto the body of one-man terrorist killing machine Marky Mark. As Marky pumped up his brain with heavy beats (SPOILER ALERT: He was listening to this), he flashed one third of his nipple triplets and braced himself for the tidal wave of panty pudding that eventually hit him after hos got a good look of him dressed up like John Travolta’s private chef. Those aren’t rainboots. They’re pantycreamboots!

And I only have one tiny issue with this look. According to my Scientology spell checker, they spelled “cock” wrong. They should fix that in post-production.

Just Give “Pain And Gain” The Best Costume Oscar Already

Up until now, I was ready to campaign for that Spring Breakers mess to collect the Best Costume Oscar for filling its wardrobe closet with sophisticated ensembles bought at a Panama Beach City bikini store that also sells Pall Malls and piña Colada mix. But EVERYTHING has changed with these pictures from the Miami set of Pain and Gain, a movie about two bodybuilders involved an extortion ring (think Hans and Franz but way gayer) starring Marky Mark, The Rock, Ed Harris and Anthony Mackie. The vision of 80s perfection above is Spanish-Dutch (Sputch) actress Yolanthe Sneijder-Cabau and her ensemble was sprayed out of a pink AquaNet bottle.

From the Camp Beverly Hills half shirt to the Freestyle Reeboks to the high-waisted surfer pants, this entire look is a snap bracelet away from being the official uniform of every girl in my second grade class. That whole picture smells like Love’s Baby Soft. If the entire movie was just Yolanthe busting moves to a Deniece Williams song blaring from a hot pink boom box, I’d copy it to VHS and watch it until the tape snapped.