Prince Hot Ginge Is About To Tame The North Pole

Prince Hot Ginge is about to put the Arctic through a greater test than global warming when the fiery halo of hot follicles on his head floats over the North Pole in a couple of weeks with the Walking with the Wounded team. The 200-mile expedition is to raise awareness and funds for service men and women who were severely injured while fighting in battle. The winds of the Arctic are pretty much pre-orgasming right now, because they’re about to get the heat of a ginge on their wisps.

In the May issue of GQ UK, PHG along with Private Jaco van Gass and Captain Guy Disney (no relation to Mickey Mouse), talk about how they are going to get shit done even though experts give them a 40 to 50 percent chance of completing their mission.

Royal Patron Prince Harry, who is joining the other eight men on the ice for up to a week, said in a message of support: “This extraordinary expedition will raise awareness of the debt that this country owes to those it sends off to fight – only for them to return wounded and scarred, physically and emotionally. The debt extends beyond immediate medical care and short-term rehabilitation. These men and women have given so much. We must recognise their sacrifice, be thankful, so far as we can ever repay them for it.”

During the exclusive photoshoot, Prince Harry commented: “Can I do most of my training wearing this thing in bed?” while examining one of the team’s weight vests – used primarily to strengthen upper-body hauling muscles. When it comes to having his photograph taken by David Bailey for the cover, his Royal Highness jokes “Well, so long as I can have one for the dartboard at home, I’m happy to oblige.”

Inge Solhiem, the expedition’s Polar Guide, adds “Harry’s training has been going very well: he has the right attitude. I’m sure Harry has healthy concerns about the dangers – as he should. You have no idea how different the pole is from everything else on the planet. The old Norwegian explorers called it the “devil’s dance floor”. It is unpredictable. Deadly. If you’re not paying attention it will just slap you… You can walk ten miles in one day, pitch your tent overnight, and the ice will have drifted you back eleven miles in the opposite direction.”

“The devil’s dance floor” is also glory hole nickname for my around-the-corner privates. If you’re not paying attention, it will slap you! But you know, Prince Hot Ginge and the rest of the team should not be concerned! Since he’s PHG, the penguins will hover around him like an egg, the polar bears will zip off their fur coats for him to wear, Santa Claus’ drunk ass will warm his insides with spiced absinthe and Snow Miser will entertain him with song. How do I know all of this? Well, you can ask me when you see me on a London street corner with my ass out and a sign that reads “North Hole Pole Here” hanging over it.

And yes, I’m blogging this from a Kinko’s while waiting for this cover to print on a cotton body pillow case.

Zac Efron Can Grow Armpit Hair?!

Are we sure those aren’t armpit wigs? Sigh. Our princess is growing up so fast. The Zac Efron of yesterday was a delicate Twink who could balance a bubble on the tip of his eyelashes, and the Zac Efron of today is almost as built as one of Kellan Lutz’s nipples. It’s as if Cinderella got in Hercules’ drawer of growth hormone supplements and testosterone boosters. Dude must be putting extra weights on the bottom of his bronzer sticks.

Australia’s NW Magazine published a few pictures of Zac casually working the pole with his nipples out and flashing a new arm tattoo. When I squint my eyes to see what his tattoo is, I get off track and focus on his copper penny nipples instead. But since Zac is the epitome of butch, I’m guessing the tattoo is two swan feathers twirling in a unicorn’s air kiss. That must be it.

Kellan Lutz Leaving The Gym

Of course Kellan Lutz is leaving the gym in North Hollywood yesterday. When his ass isn’t leaving the gym, he’s going to the gym. When he’s not going to the gym, he’s driving away from the gym while doing sit-ups behind the wheel. When’s he’s not doing sit-ups behind the wheel, he’s doing squats over the toilet. When he’s not doing squats over the toilet, he’s eating Muscle Milk out of a cooch while lifting hand weights. When he’s not eating Muscle Milk out of a cooch while lifting hand weights, he’s doing side twists (a meat head’s version of “tossing and turning”) in bed in the middle of the night.

Dude is built like one of A-Rod’s girlfriends. Kellan could seriously bench press the entire Kardashian Klan on his nipples and he wouldn’t even break a sweat. Kellan doesn’t have wrinkles on his nutsack, he has a six-pack.

But you know, Kellan should spend more time working out his head so it catches up with his Power of Greyskull body. The body says “Green Giant” but the head says “chickpea.”

Not Just His Spidey Sense Is Tingling

Who cares if Spider-Man is getting the jizz web humped out of him by the dude from Nickelback? This is all I needed to see in order to come to the conclusion that I will be first in line to see this Spider-Man mess when it premieres at the Pussy Cat Theater.

John Travolta must be the fight coordinator on this reboot, because Spider-Bottom is working that bad guy like a Scientologist when his wife is out of town. Legs up! Ass out! That other Spider-Man movie can keep their stupid upside/down kiss, because this one is awakening every nerd’s gay tendencies by giving us a 69 in a parking lot.

And I might have included one wishful thinking picture below, but judging by Spider-Man’s yoga twink bottom moves, I’m probably not far off.

Johnny Depp On St. Angie And Playing A Gay Pirate

Mickey Mouse gives Miley Cyrus a slow clap every time she pops her crotch like her clit’s a paddle ball champion, but yet he sticks his gloves in his ear holes and scurries from the room if he hears that one of his creations is GAY!

In an interview with the one and only Patti Smith for Vanity Fair, Johnny Depp says that the Disney executives threw holy water and hissed at his portrayal of Jack Sparrow in Pirates of the Caribbean. Johnny says that Michael Eisner wanted to know if Jack Sparrow’s tongue regularly slid along the crotch plank of another pirate. Johnny basically disguised a giant FUCK U with his response, “And so I actually told this woman who was the Disney-ite… ‘But didn’t you know that all my characters are gay?’ Which really made her nervous.”

It probably made her nervous in an “I might cream my chonies right here” kind of way, because who wouldn’t want to see Jack Sparrow in a gay porn version of POTC called Pirates of the Caripenis?

Here’s the full story on that foolery plus a few quotes about St. Angie:

Johnny on Disney’s gay phobia: “They couldn’t stand him. They just couldn’t stand him. I think it was Michael Eisner, the head of Disney at the time, who was quoted as saying, ‘He’s ruining the movie.’ Upper-echelon Disney-ites, going, What’s wrong with him? Is he, you know, like some kind of weird simpleton? Is he drunk? By the way, is he gay?… And so I actually told this woman who was the Disney-ite… ‘But didn’t you know that all my characters are gay?’ Which really made her nervous.”

Johnny on playing Hamlet one day: “[Marlon Brando said,] Why don’t you just take a year and go and study Shakespeare, or go and study Hamlet. Go and work on Hamlet and play that part. Play that part before you’re too old…. So what he was trying to tell me was: play that fucking part, man. Play that part before you’re too long in the tooth. Play it. And I would like to. I’d really, really like to.”

Johnny on the paps always being on St. Angie’s ass: “Poor thing, dogged by paparazzi, her and her husband, Brad…all their kids. There are times when you see how ridiculous is this life, how ludicrous it is, you know, leaving your house every morning and being followed by paparazzi. [We’d have] to hide, sometimes not even being able to talk to each other in public because someone will take a photograph and it will be misconstrued and turned into some other shit.”

Johnny on how St. Angie’s got some Elizabeth Taylor in her: “I’ve had the honor and the pleasure and gift of having known Elizabeth Taylor for a number of years. You know, you sit down with her, she slings hash, she sits there and cusses like a sailor, and she’s hilarious. Angie’s got the same kind of thing, you know, the same approach.”

St. Angie as the next generation Elizabeth Taylor?! Johnny better wash his tongue out with White Diamonds bar soap! As if St. Angie could ever deliver the iconic line “NotsofastTomRyan” with grace and conviction like Elizabeth Taylor! St. Angie would probably fuck Tom Ryan right there and snatch him away from his happy wife! Err. Dame Liz did that too, you say? Okay, nevermind.

In Case You Missed It: New Kids On The Backstreet Boys

New Kids on the Backstreet Boys sounds like the name of a gay parody porn from 1999 that I would’ve spent 197 hours trying to download off of Napster thanks to my dial-up internet connection always getting interrupted by stupid ass phone calls! So last night was the American Music Awards and I still can’t believe I watched the whole thing in its entirety. It felt like I was the only sober bitch at a rave circa 2000.

Enrique Iglesias tried to stroke out my endorphins with a glow stick light show, but it did nothing for me. The Black Eyed Peas (who make me want to give myself a damn black eye) tried to take my hand and lead me to the speaker so that I could put my ear to it and feel the bass hump my senses, but I left them hanging. And EVERYONE tried to get me to skip under a confetti money shot, but I couldn’t even bother to get up. And seriously, what the hell was up with those confetti canons?! Is it necessary to bust out a confetti canon AFTER EVERY SINGLE PERFORMANCE?! A confetti canon is like a hard dick, after popping out its 10th load of the night on top your head, you start to think yourself, “When is it going to stop, because I really need to go and watch the Pawn Stars marathon.” The only time I felt that the confetti canon CAME WITH FEELING was during the best performance of the night: NKOTBSB! And that’s the only time I dropped E and started to feel the roll.

Seriously, when that line-up of hot old bitches grabbed at their crotches at the same time, every 30-something’s panties blew off. Yup, that’s why your panties ripped themselves off last night. And there you were thinking that your daily kegel exercises simply made your queefs stronger. Nope, it was the all-mighty simultaneous thrust of NKOTBSB! Staple your panties down to your desk and relive it all over again!