Hopefully, Alec Baldwin’s “sometimes mommy” Hilaria Baldwin was on standby at the Vancouver International Airport, waiting to creepily cradle his perpetually petulant ass in her lap as soon as he touched down because he recently whined like a big ol’ baby on Instagram about his flight there getting delayed by 7 ½ hours. Naturally, most commenters had no sympathy for him. But at least no one was hurt over it (this time).
Paris Hilton exists in pop culture largely because of her sex tape from the early aughts, croaking “that’s hot” in her sexy baby voice at every opportunity, and her revolving door of relationships and engagements throughout the years. Though I’d believe Paris if she decided to come out as photosexual since she’s prone to eye-fuck any lens that points in her direction, it’s surprising that she says she considered herself asexual until she met her current husband/baby daddy, Carter Reum (FYI, the “ct” in the middle of his last name is invisible, but not silent!).
Spooky Season is in full swing, and if Terrifier 2 making people faint and vomit wasn’t disturbing enough, now we have to find a way to reconcile the mental image of Joy Behar having sex. And not just sex with anyone–because like Paz de la Huerta, Anna Nicole Smith, and Bobby Brown who came (wah-wah-wee-wah!) before her–Joy has rubbed uglies with a ghost. And not just one, several.
Since the rebirth of the love story and eventual Vegas marriage of Ben Affleck and Jennifer Affleck (née, Jennifer Lopez), it seems like their publicity machine has been hard at work attempting to manufacture shits for anyone to give–just one solitary, single shit–but so far the most interesting thing about their union is that they’re the owners of a soda machine that dispenses both Diet Pepsi AND Diet Coke. They’ve definitely tried it though since linking back up: we heard about their Valentine’s Day gifts; our brainspace has been invaded with the knowledge that Ben proposed while Jen was in the bubble bath; we’ve been made privy to their love nest search. They even tried to bring some levity and relatability to the table when Ben’s son made a public and very bougie oopsie right in front of the paps. Alas, the quest to win over the people’s interest has gone about as well as Gigli did, so today’s news is that TMZ “obtained” (AKA JLo’s people sent over the receipts) their marriage certificate.
Last week, professional cool cousin Jennifer Lawrence wrote a long essay for Lenny about how pissed off she was about the Hollywood wage gap. Thanks to the Sony hack, JLaw discovered that the numbers on her paycheck for American Hustle were a lot smaller than those of the guys she worked with, and that made JLaw frown harder than the time she released a massive pizza burp and there was no one around to hear it. Now the director of American Hustle and JLaw’s upcoming film Joy, David O. Russell, is chiming in with his thoughts. Because just like their dramatic on-set screaming matches, David O. Russell always has to get the last word.
Ah, the greasy beady-eyed sex possum fuckstare of The Deaner – how I’ve missed thee! Its been far too long. “Too long? That’s what she said! Just kidding, nobody’s ever said it’s too long. Well, maybe the time The Deaner chugged an expired Bubba and it took me 4 hours to nut.”
Leprechaun-looking TV chef Bobby Flay is currently in the middle of some divorce drama, the latest being that his marriage to Stephanie March might have died because he was getting his 28-year-old assistant to prep his chorizo. Since getting caught cheating is a skill that is practically at the top of The Deaner’s resume, he decided to reach out to his Food Network brother-in-sleaze and offer some relationship advice. Unfortunately, because being a straight-up dumbass is The Deaner’s second greatest skill, his advice is garbage. While promoting his cookbook The Gourmet Dad (Hooters special edition title: But You Can Call Me Daddy – Wink!), The Deaner told the New York Daily News:
“He needs to make some get out of jail meals for her. I would hope that they would be able to work things out because I was fortunate enough to be on that side of things working out.”
Considering he spent one of his most recent meals with his wife pulling her melted Barbie doll body off a Benihana hibachi, The Deaner is the last person who should be giving advice on how to woo your woman with food.
But I’d really love to know what kind of shit he was cooking for Tori Spelling in order to ‘get out of jail‘. Oh, what do you know? I happen to have his email to Bobby Flay right here!
“What’s crappenin’ dawg? I got a relationship-saving recipe for you. Sometimes your wife catches you basting another ham, and the best way to apologize is with a pot of homemade chili. Cutting up onions will make it look like you’ve been crying, while your farts mask the scent of strange on your dick. Relationship saved! Can I have a job now?“